The Fourth of July was right around the corner. It was July First and I was busy in my home office trying to do the shit I pay my secretary to do. I had given her two weeks off during the busy summer season, and now was kicking myself.
I run an earth moving business. When I bought into the company we were capable of doing two jobs at a time. Now we are capable of doing as many as ten jobs at a time, although I usually limit us to six, just to keep guys and equipment from being over worked. Usually my secretary does the bid processing and payroll stuff. Since I gave her two week's vacation I was having to do it myself on my own time. She usually takes a couple hours on Wednesday afternoon to get the payroll done. I wasn't as talented.
This is how I came to be sitting in my home office pouring over time cards and bills, using three different programs on my computer. I had a cold beer on the desk and a baseball game on the TV, for noise more than interest in said game. I wanted to get done so that I could go fishing at a high mountain lake for the next two days, and then spend my Fourth sitting on my front porch, drinking beer and lighting bottle rockets.
Most people don't seem to realize how hot it can get in Colorado during the summer. I have talked to folks back east who think we ski year round, and wear coats all the time. They think "South Park" is an accurate depiction of Colorado life. The temperature had reached 105 today and I was still sweating my ass off despite the swamp cooler hung in the window behind me.
I had just entered the final numbers on Jim Zimmerman's paycheck when I heard my doorbell chime. Most of the time when my doorbell rings, it is Jehovah's witnesses or Mormons coming to tell me I sin too much and they have just the pamphlet I need to change my hell bound ways. On many occasions I would answer the door naked with a bottle of Jack Daniel's in my hand when I thought it was these folk. I decided just to be rude tonight, and let that suffice. If it is someone coming to me on business, they use the side door directly into my office. As I approached my front door I noticed a car I had never seen before in my driveway.
I opened the front door and was greeted by the sight of a beautiful young lady. She was about 5'7, petite, with shoulder length light brown hair with golden highlights. Her blue and white checkered spaghetti strapped top nicely framed her tits, which were likely a large b or smallish c. Her Daisy Duke cut-offs and pink Pumas finished the look. I could have stared at her legs forever, muscular and tan, athletic legs. A cute anklet strung around her right ankle proclaimed she was a "hottie". I couldn't argue that.
She removed her oversized sun glasses to reveal her piercing blue eyes. "Are you by any chance Donny Wagner?"
I immediately dismissed her as a sales person or some cold caller, because she pronounced my last name properly. Most people pronounce it Wag, (like a dog's tail) ner. My grandparents, when they immigrated to the States in the early thirties kept the German pronunciation Vog-ner, just like the composer.
"Yes I am." I answered. I noticed family characteristics in her face. My brain scrambled to decide if I had a niece this age or not. You see, I was a late surprise for my folks. Daniel age 48 and Lisl Wagner age 45 already had Daniel Jr. age 23, Geoff, age 21, Sharon, age 18, and Trudy, age 14 when I graced them with my presence. By the time I was born my parents were grandparents three times over. It was quite often when I was growing up that I had to explain that I wasn't being raised by my grandparents. I can remember being three or so and my nephew John, who was five at the time, correcting me when I called my mother "Mommy". "No," he said "Her name is Grandma."
I am now 32 years old and have many nieces and nephews I rarely see. I see Sharon the most often since she lives in Denver, but the others all live back east and I rarely see them, let alone their kids.
"My name is Gayla Rafferty." She said sticking out her hand.
I shook her hand and said, "Pleased to meet you Gayla Rafferty, now I am a busy dude, so how can I help you?"
"You are Donny Wagner, from Blue Lake?"
"Well, I guess there's no other way to say this, but you are a father. My father."
This had to be a joke. The closest I had ever came to being a father was when my ex whore wife turned up pregnant when we hadn't had sex in almost a year. My buddy Roger had to have set this up. I stepped past her onto the porch looking around for Roger. I figured he was hiding nearby with a cam-corder. "OK fucko, I aint got time for this shit!"
No laughing Roger appeared before my eyes so I turned back to Gayla. "Ok, you look to be well over the age of 16, and I am 32. I've been divorced for 5 years now and think I would remember the cheating cunt delivering a kid. So if you aint got a better story to tell, I need to finish my shit so I can fuck off for the weekend."
She seemed nonplussed as she answered. "My mother is Candy Rafferty. Of course you might remember her as Candy Thomas. I am 18 years old and according to my mom, one Donny Wagner, from Blue Lake Colorado is my father."
Candy Thomas ... now there's a name I hadn't thought about in years. We'd had a fling when I was14. I remember her leaving about two weeks before school started never to be seen again.
She was a senior in high school and participated in a Big Brothers and big Sisters program for under privileged kids. I wasn't exactly under privileged, but since my parents were in their sixties, and considered too old to give me a normal upbringing, I qualified. I got lucky on two fronts. One was the fact that there weren't enough big brothers for all the boys so I got a big sister instead. The second was because when most of the other big brothers and sisters forgot about their charges, Candy figured out she could drive me to Grant's lake. I would fish from the time we got there, take a quick break for a picnic lunch, then I'd fish until dark. Candy meanwhile would have her boyfriend Greg come visit her. I caught them a couple of times, but I never said anything.
One late July day when she picked me up she looked as if she'd been crying. I asked her if she was ok, and she told me she was. That day we went to Redhawk reservoir. She pulled out a pole and actually fished with me that day. An hour or so before lunch she asked me if I wanted to go swimming. I told her I didn't have a swim suit.
"Neither do I sweetie, but we can swim in our underwear."
Now a 17 year old high school hottie telling a 14 year old human tripod, that he'd see her in her undies is likely the same type of response the good folks that came up with Viagra were trying to achieve.
I spent a good deal of the time we swam trying to hide the raging bone on I was sporting. After a while we climbed onto a rock to sun ourselves. We chatted for a while and she told me she had a fight with Greg. I told her that he was not good enough for her and she could do so much better. She asked why I thought that way and I blushed, then I began babbling about how beautiful she was, and how I wanted to marry her when I got old enough, and I went on and on until she shut me up with a kiss. And that was the beginning of the end of my virginity. That day was a one off since she got back with Greg the next week. She left in September and I never saw her again. And now this beautiful young lady was standing on my doorstep telling me that I fathered a child that summer day.
"Would you like to come in?" I asked. She followed me through the door. "I know I need a drink, can I get you something to drink?"
"I'd like a glass of tea if you have some."
"I think I do. Toni usually keeps stuff like that made and ready. And yes she has some made." I found a pitcher of tea in the fridge and poured her a glass.
She took a sip, "Thank you. Toni makes wonderful tea. Is she your wife?"
"No, she's my secretary. My office is in the back and she has free reign of the house while she's at work."
"What kind of business do you run?"
"Construction, mainly earth moving and roads."
I walked to the office in the back of the house and she followed. I pointed to the small couch in my office and asked if she'd like to sit. She sat and I took my place at the desk where I had been working. I finished my beer and opened a drawer and pulled out my bottle of Jack and took a healthy pull. I grimaced as the harsh brown liquid lit my esophagus on fire.
"Are you a heavy drinker?" she asked.
"Not usually, but Heir Daniels helps me wrap my head around certain things. You obviously have an advantage. You have had at least ten minutes to get used to the fact you have a long lost father. I've known I was a father for two minutes."
"Oh, I am sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. But I have wanted to meet you for several years now and just a few days ago got enough info to put it all together."
As she was about to start her end of the tale my cell rang. It was Jack Erickson, one of my foremen on a major job. Some new dipshit had done something and I was needed there ASAFP. I told him I'd be there soon. "Feel like taking a ride? I gotta go deal with something and I definitely want to hear your story. We'll go take care of this and then dinner will be on me. Do you like Mexican food?"
Sure I'll go with you, and yes I love Mexican food."
I finished the stuff I had to do and we went out and got into my truck. She told me about most of her life as we headed to the jobsite.
.... There is more of this story ...