John Booker Smith
Copyright© 2010 by happyhugo
I watched her as she came up the path toward me. She had a ponytail that was swinging and she was moving along at a good clip. Damn, I didn't need the interruption.
I figured she was probably selling something. I was into the next to last chapter in the book I was composing. I was finishing the final conflict and soon all would be right with my hero. Soon I would be writing the epilogue. This was the last book in a series of three. I was putting this particular character to bed.
Oh well, I had better see what she wanted. I just knew from the way she was moving that she wouldn't hesitate to bang on my door. I waited as she ran up the steps. I opened the door and it surprised her so much she nearly fell into the room.
"Yes Miss, what can I do for you?"
"There is a man following me. I lost him in the dense woods, but I'm sure he will come here when he gets to your path. Why don't you have a road? Where is your car?"
"Well Miss, I don't own a car, so I don't need a road."
"How do you get into town? I need to get away from here."
"There is a bicycle in the shed, you can use that. You'd have to leave some money with me before I would let you take it."
"You're a horrible man. Don't you trust anyone?"
That set the woman back enough so she was speechless, but not for long I soon found out. She tried a different tack. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to be suspicious of women who arrive at my door demanding I do something for them."
"Are you afraid of women?"
"Some of them. I trusted my mother and I trusted my sister."
"What about your wife? Most men are married by your age."
"Her I didn't trust. You appear to be a lot like her, ergo, I don't trust you. Why don't you leave? I'm sure your imagined stalker is just that."
"He is real, but you don't seem to care if I was attacked and violated."
"I'd mind if I knew you maybe, but I don't know you. There are many tragedies that go on in this world that I don't know about. When you go down the path, I'll forget you were here and anything that happens to you is not my problem." She stared at me in disbelief at my uncaring attitude.
She spoke now in a rush. "My name is Pamela Becker and the man I spoke about was my boyfriend. I'm twenty-two and I just broke up with him because he was seen doing things with another girl. We were engaged, but he cheated, and the man I want to share my life with can't do that.
"I just graduated from college, majoring in English and journalism. Top three percent of my class, I might add. My father is dead and my stepmother, whom I love dearly, didn't like my boyfriend because she didn't trust him and I have to apologize to her because she was correct." She paused out of breath and then continued, "There, you know me now and that puts some responsibility on you to look out for me." Defiant, she looked at me.
"I guess it does, doesn't it. Too late to go into town and it will be dark before we get there. You'll have to spend the night. Are you afraid to stay here with me?"
"Maybe a little. I don't know your name or anything about you, or not much anyway. I know you live alone out in the woods and hate women. Would you pretend I am your sister visiting you, and you are glad to see me?"
"I could do that, I guess. 'Course I've lied a bit. I don't have a sister so wouldn't know how to treat you. Oh hell, here is my cell phone. Call your mother or a friend and tell them you are staying overnight with John Booker Smith, the author."
Pamela screamed, "You're JB Smith? I've read all of your novels. In fact you are the author who has inspired me to want to make writing my career." She backed off and examined me. "You don't look as old as I thought you would. Nowhere near as old as the pictures on the jackets of your book covers. Can I call Mom now? She loves you as much as I do. I mean she loves your novels." Always nice to know I have fans out there!
Pamela stepped outside so she wouldn't be overheard. I wondered if she was ever going to come back inside. I had to break her call off, telling her the meal was getting cold. I served her some macaroni and cheese cooked on top of the stove and a hotdog, ending the meal with an apple for dessert.
I never did get back to writing this evening. I mean when you have an adoring fan arriving the way Pamela did, you have to sit and entertain her. She told me a little more about herself. Enough anyway to know she was serious in becoming a writer. Mostly she asked me about what it was like to find myself a renowned author.
"You don't find yourself an author. I have been serious about this ever since I was an early teenager. I took some correspondence courses and sold my first book when I was nineteen. Thank god it is out of print now and it is best forgotten. Not that it was bad, but because it was good. Profitable as well. My wife..." I stopped and went on in a different vein. "At the time, it boosted my ego and kept me from giving up writing. I have been fortunate to have some editors take the time to work with me.
"The downside was that I didn't pay attention to my childhood sweetheart and lost her two years after we were married."
"She cheated on you, is that it?"
"No, I can't say that about her. It was more that I cheated by focusing so heavily on my work. Writing was and is my mistress. My wife gave me plenty of warning, but I wouldn't listen. My addiction to writing was stronger than my love for her. She did cry as she left."
"Do you ever think about her?"
"What happened to her? Don't you have any contact with her at all?"
"No contact. When we met to settle things for the divorce, it was the last time we were together. A mutual friend told me she is married to a man older than she is. Other than that I know nothing about her. I'm sure with the success I have had writing, she knows about me. Even though it hurts me to say this, she was wise in divorcing me. I'm just not husband material. Case in point, a beautiful young woman right now is sitting across from me and I'm resenting the fact that I'm not in my office pounding on a keyboard."
"You're hateful, and you hate women!"
"That's the way I am."
"I'm shocked, I thought John Booker Smith was straight. You are able to write such steamy love scenes, but I don't ever remember reading any gay passages in any of your books."
"I'm not gay. Those steamy sexual scenes come from pure research on the female gender. Physical as well as otherwise."
"I'm tempted to get you to prove it."
"No, you won't. We'd start a relationship and then you would get to thinking I was husband material. You couldn't help falling in love with me and I'd break your heart. You're too nice and beautiful for me to do that to you."
"God, do you ever have a huge ego! You did pay me a compliment though, and I thank you for that. Where am I going to sleep? If I'm going to brag about this, I have to be able to describe everything about John Booker Smith and where he lives and works."
"You know I could run you into town if you'd rather. I kind of lied about that as well. I do have a car parked the other side of the lawn behind some bushes. You came up the back way. There is a road going down to Rt 9, which is only a mile from here. Haven't you heard the cars and trucks on the highway?"
"I did, but I thought the road was further away. I'd like to stay, if I may. My mom will kill me if I don't. I know she reads your books, but she has always sounded as if there was more than that when she was asking about you."
"Maybe your Mom likes my work a little too much and fantasizes about the creator. That happens. Not too often, but I have had a woman rush up to me and try to kiss me. It is embarrassing for both of us. When that happens, I usually buy the woman a cup of coffee and sometimes we become friends. Nothing ever more than that."
"Oh come on, I don't believe you."
"Think what you want, it is true. If I want a woman, be assured I'm the one that does the hunting. I'm not one to begin a relationship on the spur of the moment either. The boundaries are laid out well before I become intimate with the opposite sex."
"Do you ever have any fun in your life? It seems as if you live a sterile existence here. Oh, I think you do experience everything, but you have to have a plan before it happens. Don't you ever let it all hang out?"
"Enough about me. What about you? Tell me about yourself."
"Typical person in today's world. Had some unhappiness losing my mother at fourteen. Dad filled in for her until he met my stepmom. She turned out to be a wonderful choice for both my dad and me. I have come to love her as much as I did my Mom. I think she must be about your age, only eight years older than I am."
"It sounds as if you were extraordinarily lucky in the choice your father made. No money worries?"
"None. Dad made his pile before my real mother passed away. He was chased by a couple of women for a few months before he met Janis. She came to the marriage with some money of her own. There was a prenup, but that was mostly to protect me. I have been well protected and I still am. Janis has set up a trust for me with most of my father's money, even though I was left some outright. That's the kind of person she is."
I guessed I had better delve into this stepmom a little deeper. "What was this Janis' name before she married your father? Where was she from?"
"You are as bad as Mom. You ask questions, just like she did of me earlier. I think her maiden name was Gamaele--that's pronounced with a soft G. She was born in Connecticut and moved to New Hampshire as a child. She took her maiden name back when she divorced and I don't know what her married name was. Does that answer all of your questions?"
"I guess I was getting personal about something that doesn't concern me." (It did concern me, because Janis Gamaele at one time was my wife.) "What about you? Why are you in Brattleboro and where are you staying?"
"I am staying in a motel on Putney Road. My ex-boyfriend followed me here and foolish me, I agreed to talk to him and listen to the explanation of why he was cheating on me. I got in his car and we started to ride around. He parked at a wide spot beside the highway and we talked. When I wouldn't believe his lies and take him back, he became abusive. Not physically, but verbally. I jumped out and ran into the woods. I circled around and that's when I found your path."
"And here you are."
"Here I am, yes. This has to be the most interesting experience of my life." She wasn't done. "I have met one of my favorite writers and got to know some things about him. One of which, he is not above lying to a person. It makes me wonder just what kind of a person you really are. I think your profile may be somewhere between what your book jacket tells me and what you have said about yourself this afternoon."
"You could be right. You still haven't said why you are here in Brattleboro. I'm assuming you went to school at UVM?"
"Yes I did. The thing of it is, a bunch of us were looking for different local authors on the Internet. Your name, of course, came up. You don't use Vermont for a location in any of your books. You use the wide world for that. There is one author that has several stories set in and around Brattleboro. He has no profile on the website he posts his stories on. It made me curious about the town. Do you know who I'm talking about?"
"Yes, I think you are referring to Hugo. He is a friend of mine. It was I who encouraged him to begin writing. He didn't start until after he was seventy. His preferred genre are westerns, although he has never been west. He claims he has read enough westerns so he is confident enough to write his own. He sticks mostly to romances with happy endings, hence the name Hugo that he uses as his pen name.
"Westerns aren't his only settings. History plays some parts in his stories. He is pretty good at taking one situation or one of his ancestors and building a story around it, or them."
"I know all of this. It took me awhile to realize sometimes he seems to write for his own enjoyment, letting the words just land on the page. Other times he has more meat to the story and does some research, building the fiction with his characters."
"You are so right. I do the same thing and I post on the same website. The stories I post have more sex in them than what I write in my books. Does that tell you anything more about me?"
"I guess I'll have to think about that before I can say. I know the website, tell me what name you write under."
"No, not tonight. You'd think me a dirty old man and wouldn't want to stay here."
"Hey, I'm just out of college. You don't think I studied all of the time, do you? UVM is a great party school. Remember too, I'm just coming off a two-year relationship. We did more than hold hands."
"Do you miss him?"
"It is weird that I should after how he disrespected me so, but I do. Oh well, I'm sure I will find someone. You know what, it could be you."
"No way. I'm just not the right person for you. I will say I am interested in your career as a writer and I'd like to keep in touch."
"Okay, then. Have you got a tee shirt I can put on to sleep in?" I found her one that had JBS embroidered on the pocket. She looked at me. "May I keep this?"
"Sure. More bragging rights for you. Who am I to deny a fan."
"Thanks from a fan who thinks you have a great big ego that is boundless, but I will take it anyway." I showed her my bedroom, which left me the smaller room. I heard her banging open my bureau drawers and looking in my closet.
I spoke through the door. "Are you having fun in there?"
"I am. High school reunion is in two weeks. I'm going to wow my classmates."
"Careful young lady, you're going to be growing cojones of brass and you won't be the sweet young thing I have come to know and love."
"Who cares," came floating through the door. "I'll never have another chance again like this."
I suppose if I hadn't found out my ex-wife was this girl's stepmother, I wouldn't have offered her my bedroom. I rarely thought of Janis now. What I had felt for her at one time now came rushing back. I wondered if she had aged well. I was pleased that Pamela thought so much of her. Why?
I thought back to Janis and our breakup. I could see her point now after so many years had passed. At the time I thought she was being too unreasonable. One conversation led to another conversation and soon we were shouting at each other. Things were said we couldn't take back.
She just couldn't understand that I had to write. How else was I going to support her? It still burned me when I thought about the first book I had published. Wonders, it turned up on several must read lists and was very profitable. Profitable for her, anyway. She asked for the royalties in the divorce settlement and received all that the book generated. This left me starting again from scratch, but that wasn't all bad either. I could concentrate on my chosen path.
Again it was a blessing to be so focused for it let me forget Janis and what our marriage had deteriorated into. So had she done well in her second marriage? Must be. That was good and I was glad to hear about it from someone who had feelings for her. Pamela still hadn't said where home was. I assumed she and Janis lived together, or would now that Pamela was finished with college.
I went into the bathroom, showered, shaved and went into my bedroom. I heard Pamela shower while I was drifting off to sleep. I was up at three for a pee break. Her underwear was draped over the towel rail. It had been a long time since this had happened here in my workplace. Not unusual at my downtown home, although not that often there either.
My thoughts swung to Janis again and a longing came unbidden into my mind. I cursed Pamela for bringing up her name and the return of pain I thought I had stripped from my memories. My plan now was to get Pamela into town and forget her and her stepmother as soon as possible.
Pamela came into my little kitchen and I asked, "Eggs, bacon and toast, or cereal?"
"Egg please. One, over easy. One toast and no bacon. You got coffee?"
"Coming at you. Would you get the plates in that cupboard to the right of the sink? Silverware in the drawer under it." I was pouring coffee when I glanced at Pamela as she reached for the plates. Two globes appeared as her tee rose while stretching.
I was struck silent. Pamela turned around and realized what had happened. "Sorry about that. My underwear isn't dry. I forgot I wasn't with my boyfriend. Forget I did that." Yeah right!
Her face flamed. "You must think I'm terrible. I'll be good from now on."
"I'll probably work this little situation into a story sometime. Nice!"
"I could say nice situation only, but you wouldn't believe me, would you?"
"Eat your egg."
"Chicken." Pam was good and stopped teasing until the breakfast was finished. "I'm using the microwave to finish drying my underwear. You don't mind do you?"
"Not if I can use that in a story too?"
"Who cares?" She returned in a minute with a rolled up towel and put it in the oven. She stood there tapping her foot for three minutes. Smiling at me she went off to the bedroom, coming out a few minutes later completely dressed. "Shall we go? I want to see if Bob is still in town."
I got on at entrance number two of I-91 and got off at exit three, taking the round-about without slowing. I pulled into the parking lot at the motel. There was a police car sitting in the back row. Pamela informed me, "Bob is sitting over in his car by the police vehicle. At least he thought enough about me to be worried when he couldn't find me. Walk over with me, would you please?"
Pamela went to Bob as he got out of his car. I went around and spoke to Maryann, the female police officer. We were friends and had at one time dated. She rolled her window down. "That the woman who was missing?"
"Yeah. She spent the night at my place. Those two broke up and she is all done with him. He wants her back and she isn't having any. Too bad you can't tell him to leave town."
"I could do that, but it wouldn't mean anything legally. I'll sit here and see how they get along. How have you been John?"
"Fine. Busy. I'm almost finished with another book. It'll be out in a few months. Lot to do to get it ready before it is printed. How is Sam?"
"Good. Married life agrees with us. You should try it. That woman looks kind of young for you though."
"She is. She just graduated from UVM and wants to write for a living. It was great talking to her last night. Strange we have the same interests, meeting the way we did."
"How and where did you meet?" I explained about the last sixteen hours. "She hasn't said how long she is going to be in town. I do know she wants to meet Hugo. I may introduce them."
"I bet she would like that. What a sight he has from his place. Even if they don't connect, at least she will have enjoyed the view. It was claimed when he moved there you could see as far as Boston. Too much thick air to see that far now. You still can view three states at once though. Oh look, her boyfriend is pulling out and leaving. I'll find out if everything is cool."
Pamela came up to the car announcing to me, "Bob has given up. I won't be seeing him again. He finally admitted he was seeing some other girl at the same time he was seeing me. I did thank him for being concerned enough to have you come here to see if I was okay."
"You weren't really listed a missing person. You weren't missing long enough to make a report on. It was unusual enough though for the chief to send me out here. What do you think of John? You couldn't have fallen in with a nicer person."
"He's okay. I have discovered he has a giant ego, though." Pamela was smiling. "Seriously, I'm glad I met him. I love his books and my Mom does as well."
"I like them too. He even put me into his second novel under a different name. I'm on page 71. Of course this was before I met my husband. My husband still doesn't know if what John wrote about me is true. It might cause me problems if he knew for sure. Hey, I have to get back to the station. Have fun you two." The cruiser pulled away.
"Do you want to come up to my room? It's on the second level."
"No. I have to get back and work on my novel."
"Does this mean I won't be seeing you again?"
"I don't know. How long are you going to be in town?"
"Not sure. As long as I want, I guess. You have to eat. I noticed your cupboards were nearly empty. You have one egg left in your refrigerator. If I was home, I'd invite you in for dinner."
"I'm a great cook. Dinner would be better than that soupy mac and cheese you fed me last night."
"You ate it though."
"I have good manners, that's why I didn't say anything."
"Make a deal with you, if you'll cook me a good dinner. You sign out here and I'll put you up in my home. Not where I work, but where I live when I'm not writing. You can stay as long as you want. I won't be around during the day, but I will come down for a good meal."
"Do you have a washer and dryer I could use?"
"Washer only and you have to use the microwave to dry your underthings."
"You got a kick out of that didn't you?"
"Yeah I did. I'll never use the microwave again without remembering."
"And I thought you were gay! Okay I'll pay up and move. God this is weird. I'm not believing this. Wait ten minutes, I never unpacked so I'll just gather my suitcase."
Pamela followed me back to West Brattleboro and up Greenleaf Street where we turned left onto another street. It was the second house in. I hit the garage door and she pulled right in beside of me. I took her suitcase and put it into the upstairs bedroom. She came in behind me. "Nice room." She looked puzzled. "It is almost as if I remember it, it looks so familiar. I know I have never been here. Strange."
It might have been strange, but maybe not totally. This was the bedroom that Janis and I used. Janis probably had a picture of it and Pamela had seen it. I wonder what Pamela would say when she found out I had been married to her stepmom at one time.
"Pantry and fridge are fully stocked. There is a freezer out in the garage. It has roasts and stuff in it. I'm leaving. What time is the dinner you promised?"
"Six would be just about right."
"Okay, I'll see you then."
I had many distractions before while writing, but this time I couldn't concentrate the way I usually was able to. It wasn't Pamela either. Thoughts of Janis kept intruding the way they hadn't for years. I finally shut the word processor down and flopped down on the bed that Pamela had slept in the night before. There was her faint scent on the pillow. I recognized it as one I remembered Janis wearing.
I finally, after a crazy little day dream of "what if," got dressed and left for town. I was early and when I went into the kitchen, I surprised Pamela, who jumped, and then almost screamed. She said loudly, "John I didn't expect you this early. Dinner isn't ready yet. You'll have to wait."
"I can do that. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"As a matter of fact, there is. There are two towels in the microwave. Would you take them up and toss them on the bed for me?"
"Are they what I think they are?"
"Take them upstairs. Look if you want to. I'm not in them so it is nothing to me."
I was shaking my head. I suppose I had started this this morning by taking note of what my oven was being used for. I tucked the towels under my arm and headed up. I glanced back and could see a smirk on Pamela's face. I smiled back.
The bedroom door went back against a chair positioned behind it so a person could look out the nearby window, looking down on the flowerbed below. I paid no attention as I waltzed in and tossed the towels on the bed. The blue one sprung open exposing a pair of panties. I didn't go near them. Not my thing. If I wanted to see panties, I wanted a woman in them.
"It has been a long time since you have gazed on anything of mine like that, hasn't it John?"
I knew the voice and I knew the person that it emanated from. I turned to where Janis was rising from the chair. "Janis, I didn't expect you. I should have, though. Pamela has had me off balance ever since I met her." I stopped speaking and looked at my ex-wife. She looked much the same as I remembered, only more mature of course. The one thing I took note of was she wasn't wearing the angry look of the last few times we were together. That was other than the tears she had tried to keep hidden from me when we left the lawyer's office so long ago.
"It must be a surprise finding me here. Pamela called me this morning after you left to go write. I live near enough so I could drive and be here for dinner. You don't mind do you? I'm hoping what drove us apart is behind us and we can be friends."
"That would be nice. When did you tell her we were married at one time?"
"Not until I arrived. She is so thrilled about it. Oh the panties in the microwave, that was her idea. She wanted you to be shocked because you hadn't told her about our past."
"Let's go downstairs. I wouldn't want her to get any ideas about us."
"No ideas at all, John?"
"Not at this time. I am pleased to see you again, though. You haven't changed that much. Still the beautiful doll I fell in love with in tenth grade."
"I was your beautiful doll at one time, wasn't I? That is how you used to refer to me. I'd forgotten. Time has softened some of the harsh feeling I had against you as well. I suppose I was curious how I would feel seeing you again. I must say, I'm glad I came down today."
"Where is down from located?"
"Rutland. I work for the city administration as a clerk in the lister's office. I can only stay until tomorrow. This is a busy time with tax rates being set in June."
I didn't ask how she felt now that she had satisfied her curiosity. I knew how I felt. My mind was a jumble of opposing senses. I wanted to hug and kiss her, and at the same time, I wanted to slap her for leaving me. I think I hid the turmoil that I was nearly overwhelmed with. "Let's go down. May I take your arm? The staircase is wide enough."
I hadn't needed to say that. Janis knew this, for we often in previous years had gone down together when going out. This was a new/old experience for me. My arm tingled where hers was nestled with mine. She must have felt something like I did, for she was grasping my arm as if she didn't want to ever let go.
"Is dinner ready?" I wasn't going to make my acceptance of what she had surprised me with easy for Pamela. "Mrs. Becker claims to be hungry." A disappointed look crossed her face. I relented. "Pamela, you sure do know how to please a man. First the food looks and smells wonderful, and then you arrange for me to have two beautiful women to dine with. Thank you."
She was grinning broadly. "How did you like the way I set up you two meeting and coming together after being apart for so long?"
"It was masterful, but what would have happened if we couldn't get along again?"
"That wouldn't happen and I knew it. You forget I've lived with Mom for five years and I know you are a pussy cat. Even if you still harbored resentment against your wife, you have too much class to show it." What could I say?
Pamela loaded the dishwasher and said, "I'm going to go up on Putney Road to get eggs. You're out and I like ham and eggs for breakfast."
"You could find eggs at the 7-Eleven just down the street."
"I could, but that wouldn't give you time to romance Mrs. Becker. Oh, I mean your ex-wife, Janis. You must have some catching up to do. I'll give you an hour at least."
"Okay Mom, I'll leave, but you have to admit that this is quite a coincidence the way I met an author I have admired and find out he is your ex-husband. Hey have fun, I'm gone." The door slammed on the laughter that was trailing her exit.
I took Janis' hand and led her to the next room. We sat on the living room couch. We didn't get close, but this way we could turn and look at the other person while we talked.
"Have you had a good life Janis?"
"Without you, you mean?"
"Yes, that is what I meant."
"It hasn't been too bad. The first couple of years I wondered if I had done the right thing. Then I met Pamela's father and things got better for me. I loved him and I love Pamela. This made my life whole and almost complete. I seldom thought about you. That is not until I lost Brian. You know death can bring about closure and a person can move on because he or she isn't here anymore. It is different with a divorce. There isn't ever any real closure. You know you can call your ex up and say something to him or her. A million times in the first year I almost did that."
"You wonder if you made the correct decision. Is that it?"
"Yes. It might be different if there was some cheating going on, but in our case there wasn't."
"But there was, Janis. I was cheating you. Not sexually. Hell, I didn't take care of you, so how could I have an affair with someone else. I cheated by not giving you my full attention. My attention was directed to my work. I don't blame you for leaving. I wonder if when you took the royalties from my book if that wasn't meant to be revenge. If it was, it backfired because it only drove me harder to become the author I am today."
"So you are saying you had closure and I didn't?"
"Mostly. I have lightened up in the last couple of years and don't work all of the time. Right now I am trying to get a book finished, so having Pamela come by my workplace is a distraction I resent. The same resentment as when I was married to you. But that is going to end in a couple of weeks. I'm booked for a flight to Spain where my next book is being set. I'll spend a month there. I'll probably take up with a local woman and enjoy myself. Then I'll say good-bye to her and travel to another place the book needs for a setting."
"Do you always find a woman?"
"I haven't had any problem yet. Look at me, Janis. I'm a well-known author. I keep myself in shape. I spend money freely and I'm sexually accomplished. Why would I have a problem finding someone for my bed?"
"Put that way, I guess not. What about when you come home and start writing? You must get lonely."
"Sometimes, but only when I can't move my story forward or I know my plot is weak. It goes away. I do have friends I can call for a dinner out and some of them pay me with favors."
We sat silently for several minutes while Janis was thinking over what I had just told her. "John, I'd like to have you call me to go out for dinner sometime. The other, the payment, well we could come to terms on that."
"I may do that."
"I have one question. What about Pamela? She said you had invited her to stay here in your house. What are your intentions concerning her? Are you going to get her into your bed?"
"None of your business, that. I will tell you though, I won't for now while I'm finishing my book. Then I'm going abroad, so I won't be here. I admit she is cute and I suspect from our conversations she is pretty hot. With the break up between the two, it wouldn't be difficult to get her into bed. More to the point for me though, and this is something about morals I suppose, she is your stepdaughter. "I'm not kinky and I haven't thought about this yet and won't unless she pushes me. On the surface, it would look like me screwing a woman and eight years later doing her daughter. That's not me."
"I guess she is safe then, but if you examine the situation, there isn't really any reason why you shouldn't make love to her, but I don't know as I want you to."