Chapter 2

I used the internet to map the street address Staci had left me and virtually sprinted to the parking lot. I worked downtown Milwaukee and parked about a 5 minute walk from the building. Even while hurrying it allowed me enough time to have second thoughts about my current course of action. As I drove towards what a growing part of my mind was thinking of as "my destiny," the second thoughts started becoming alarming in their intensity. I knew I had to address these thoughts before going any further so I parked in the first available spot in the residential neighborhood Staci lived in. I tried to focus on my misgivings; I thought that if I could bring the clear light of discrimination to bear on them I would be able to dispel them. And if that didn't work perhaps I would sweep them under the mental rug of justification.

However, I found that the constant images coming into my head of Staci were making it impossible to concentrate. I meant all those things I had said to her back at the office. It wasn't just some kind of line. I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind since the day I had met her, not completely. Thinking back I realized that the only times I could remember being completely oblivious to her over the past year were the times I was arguing with my wife. We had been having the kinds of arguments that made me feel as if I was fighting to save my marriage. And I was fighting the person I was married to! It's as if she had given up on us and I had to convince her that our marriage was one worth saving. And I had fought hard for it. I had explained, cajoled, entreated, begged, and even wept during my efforts to convince her that we belonged together. I didn't regret my efforts, and I didn't feel resentful towards her for having to make them. It was worth it, and I truly believed that we belonged together. As these thoughts played themselves out in my mind an image of the ease with which Staci and I communicated and connected would pop up.

After going back and forth maybe a dozen times between remembering the emotional investment I had made in my marriage and the pleasure of Staci's company, I realized I was getting nowhere. Light spilled onto the sidewalk from one of the ubiquitous neighborhood pubs on the corner. Laughter, music and goodwill coming out of the bar mingled with the rays of the setting sun coming in. I paused where they met on the sidewalk in front of the open door and was warmed by the interaction.

Staggering under the weight of my tortuous thought processes I fell gratefully into the miasma. The noise of friendly conversation washed over me and started soothing my clamoring mind. Starting on a double scotch, neat of course, furthered the soothing action. Feeling bolstered against the internal storm of my guilt and confusion, I steeled myself to turn inwards again.

I reasoned that there was essentially no way I was going to stop myself from breaking the vows of my marriage. The attraction and affinity between Staci and I were too strong to resist. So I focused instead on easing my guilty conscience. Then I remembered that all the strife in my marriage was caused by my wife's affair over the last year. Now my guilt and confusion started becoming righteous anger. I ordered another whiskey and fed the flame of my indignation. How dare she cheat on me? How forgiving was I expected to be? She had always claimed that if I had cheated on her she would leave me. What a hypocrite! I was really working myself into an internal rage by this point. A part of me knew that I had already processed these emotions and that I was dredging them up again now because they were helpful to me at the moment. They helped me assuage the guilt.

Then I was struck by the thought that I wanted to have less drama in my life. I wanted to express my love to whomever I felt it for. I wanted to be less possessive of my wife and wanted her to be less possessive of me. I wanted to give and receive more affection in my life. Suddenly I was reminded of the fleeting and ephemeral nature of our time on this earth. I didn't have time for pettiness and jealousy. I wasn't going to waste any more time worrying about whether somebody owed me anything or that my wife had previously felt affection for another man. And I certainly wasn't going to worry about the fact that I held affection for another woman. I vowed to embrace all of life and the experiences presented to me within mine. Feeling much relieved I finished my drink, used the restroom, and headed back onto the sidewalk, signaling my thanks to the wizened bartender on the way out.

Staci lived in an older brick apartment building a few blocks away. The cool autumn air was a welcome contrast to the smoky, hot bar. I savored the slight buzz from the two drinks in quick succession. Whiskey never clouded my head; beer and other drinks always made me feel thick and heavy. Good single malt seemed to open my mind to the endless possibilities offered by the universe. My perceptions seemed heightened rather than dulled. As I walked I pondered. Gratitude flowed through me as I reveled in the exquisite chain of circumstances that had led me to this precise point in time. I marveled at the eternal unfolding of the present moment. My reverie was broken as a golden retriever being walked by its owner snuffled his cold wet nose under my hand and insisted on being petted. I joyously obliged. I knelt down in order to more fully appreciate the dog's luxurious fur and fill my nostrils with that wonderful dog scent. This dog was obviously loved and well cared for. I discovered it was a male while rubbing his belly.

"Wow, talk about instant rapport" his owner interjected. I had been aware that the person walking the dog was female but hadn't paid attention to any further details. When she spoke I instantly realized it was Staci. As I broke contact with her dog and stood to face her I realized we were in front of her building.

"What a wonderful dog, what's his name?"

"Hunter, because he can find a downed duck in nothing flat."

"You hunt?"

"I do. Not as often as I'd like though."

"I didn't know that about you. There are so many things I don't know about you."

"Likewise, and I'm constantly struck by the fact that we are, for all intents and purposes, complete strangers and yet address each other as ancient friends."

"Well, I might be ancient; but you are certainly anything but. What are you 22, 23 years old?"

She laughed "36."

"No fucking way." I was so surprised that the epithet slipped past my lips unbidden. She laughed long and hard at my reaction. Her laughter was liquid and genuine and obviously heartfelt.

"Honestly, I thought 24, maybe 25 at the outside. I said 22 to be polite. But 36? No fucking way." This time I swore on purpose for our amusement. I chuckled along with her waning laughter. When we were quiet again we simply smiled deeply into each other's eyes and didn't stop until Hunter whined his desire to go inside. It was at this point that I became aware of the fact that I had been slowly allowing myself to fall in love with this woman. Disallowing myself may actually have been impossible. I had no idea where this was headed and yet somehow I knew it was right. This was one of the rare instances when I decided to allow things to happen with no interference from my big brain; no anguish about what might be happening next; and only appreciation of what was occurring in the moment. And in that moment I remembered fondly another of these rare instances occurring when I met my wife. I was again overflowing with gratitude as I enjoyed the view while following Staci up the three flights to her apartment.

At this point I would like to digress a bit, yet again, from the central theme of this story. If my (alleged) reader would indulge me I would like to hold forth on the wonders of the female body. I feel this is an appropriate point because I remember that as I climbed towards what I was certain would be a wonderful evening, I was indeed marveling at the beauty of nature. There is no other way to put this: Staci had a hot ass. I guess I'm an ass man by nature. The rest of her body was essentially perfect. But even if a woman has misshapen tits, a saggy belly, and a hideous face, I'm still going to drool over her if she has a nice ass. Staci's ass was unbelievable. It took all of my willpower not to simply bury my face into her butt crack through her jeans. I was able to stop myself because I was certain I would have cum in my pants the moment I touched her. That fear didn't stop me from staring though. I felt my face flush just looking at her derriere. Derriere was a good word for it; it was a delicate thing for a delicate part of her anatomy. Her ass was small enough that her pants didn't look as if they were straining to contain it. Yet it was big enough to fill them out nicely. Her hips were wide enough to cause her waist to flare most alluringly. Yet thin enough that they didn't stick out past her shoulders as some women's. Seen in profile her ass curved out in an exquisite arc from her slightly curved back and swooped into the back of her toned thighs that had a perfect curve of their own. Hers was for me the definition of a perfect ass. Others have differing opinions, or so I've heard, yet I find it hard to believe.

I leaned against the door jamb admiring her face as she did fumbley things with her keys and the door knob.

"Stop staring at me; you're making me nervous," she demanded and gave up altogether in her attempts.

"Does it? I'm flattered. You know Miss Lords I think you might have a thing for me." My fingers lingered on hers as I gently took her key ring from her hands.

I unlocked her door and stepped back to allow her to enter. Hunter gave a joyful bark after he was unleashed and rushed further into the apartment. When I turned back into the room after closing the door I found Staci silently gazing at me, standing just inside the doorway.

"I meant what I said back at the office." Her tone and demeanor made it clear that she was not in the mood for joking around. Looking at her vulnerability I felt almost guilty about my recent excursion into the stratosphere of joy and levity. I made an attempt to match her demeanor. Failing miserably I couldn't keep a huge grin off of my face. I was sure I looked like some kind of smiling idiot but I couldn't care less.

"I know you did. I believe you wholeheartedly. I meant everything I've said to you also. I've been doing some thinking on the way here and I'm absolutely thrilled about this turn of events. I'm scared shitless, I'm confused, I'm filled with joy, and I want to wrap you in my arms right now." Fortunately my smile faded as I said this. As I finished my little speech I was imploring her to believe me. I thanked all the gods in heaven as she smiled and moved towards me.

"This is what heaven must feel like," I breathed into her neck, "You smell wonderful." I made no suggestive moves during this contact, merely enjoyed the warmth and closeness. I was mildly surprised to notice that my dick didn't become instantly hard and explode in my boxers immediately upon touching her. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to move towards a more carnal knowledge of each other either. I wondered briefly about this; it certainly isn't what I expected.

She slowly and with obvious reluctance pulled away. "Would you like a drink? I'm going to make one for myself. All of this has been so overwhelming; I just need to relax for a while."

"I agree completely. Do you have any scotch?" I looked around her apartment as she headed towards a corner of the front room. She had an apartment on the top floor of the building so it had high ceilings. I guess it was actually a loft rather than an apartment. The kitchen, dining room, and living areas were all contiguous. The kitchen was in the far corner and there was an island countertop/eating area delineating it from the rest of the space. An ornate metal spiral staircase dominated the open area. There were sconces high on the walls which cast a subtle, diffused light throughout the room. The light was low enough to make the corners somewhat shadowy, creating a relaxing atmosphere. In the brick wall opposite the front door, on the far side of the staircase, was a shadowy archway that lent an air of mystery to the environs beyond. In the wall to the right of this opening was what appeared to be a pass-through fireplace. That corner of the space had a bar area, complete with overstuffed furniture.

As she moved towards the liquor cabinet in the bar area she started saying, "There's scotch, but that's..." and she stopped midsentence. Then she continued in a slightly strained voice, "I've actually got lots of different kinds of scotch, I don't know much about it though. What do you like?"

I became instantly intrigued and made a beeline for the bar. As I perused what turned out to be an extensive collection of fine single-malts, along with a few blends that looked inviting, I wondered what Staci had stopped herself from saying.

"Wow, I haven't seen a collection this size outside of a liquor store, in fact this is much better than most liquor stores. You sure have some high quality hootch for someone that doesn't know much about it. Do you mind if I help myself? Would you like me to mix you something? What's yer poison?" I did my best old-west bartender impression.

"I'll try some of whatever scotch you pick. My ex bought all that," she said as way of explanation.

"Coming right up. So you paused a second ago because?" I let the question linger.

She seemed pensive, "He never wanted me to share his scotch unless he was here. But then I decided 'Fuck that, it's my scotch now!'" And she laughed.

It had only taken a moment for me to pour a couple of drinks, mine neat with just a touch of spring water, hers with a bit more water. Whoever her ex-boyfriend was he certainly knew his whiskey. I found I couldn't quite hate the man.

She had made her way to the overstuffed sofa in front of the fireplace. She sprawled languidly on her right side against the big smooshy arm with her left leg straight out on the couch and the other on the floor. This afforded me another wondrous view of her body, this time with her legs spread. I couldn't stop myself from staring at her glorious crotch. I wondered what her pussy smelled like as I came out from behind the bar and handed her the drink.

"Good for you! Now that's the attitude to have; 'Fuck that!' Cheers!" I took a sip of mine and remained standing in front of her on the couch. I was still ogling her body and hadn't noticed the sly smile steal over her face until she said,

"Stop staring at me; you're making me nervous," but this time it was said in a knowing, playful and husky voice.

"You don't look nervous. You look 'delectable'" I returned her mischievous smile.

"Oh my. Mister King, I do believe you might have a thing for me."

I laughed, "Tell me we're not quoting ourselves already."

"It's only because we are so eminently quotable," she said as she laughed, "won't you please sit down?" And she bent the knee of her leg on the couch and patted the cushion between her legs with her free hand. I sat and leaned my back against her bent leg. She rolled further onto her back to face me and lifted her right leg off the floor and onto my lap.

We simultaneously hmmmnnned in contentment and laughed again.

"This is wonderful. I am so glad you begged me to come here."

"I would do almost anything to have this time with you. I am enjoying it even more than I envisioned." She sniffed her glass, "is this the Aberlour?"

"Wow, I am impressed. It is indeed the Aberlour."

She chuckled, "Don't be. It's the only name I remember. I just got lucky is all."