A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 5 - Michelle - Cover

A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 5 - Michelle

Copyright © 2015-2023 Penguintopia Productions

Chapter 60: An Apology

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 60: An Apology - This is the continuation of the story told in "A Well-Lived Life 2", Book 4. If you haven't read the entire 10 book "A Well-Lived Life" and the first four books of "A Well-Lived Life 2" you'll have some difficulty following the story. This is a dialog driven story. The author was voted 'Author of the Year' and 'Best New Author' in the 2015 Clitorides Awards, and 'Author of the Year' in 2017.

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Workplace   Polygamy/Polyamory   First   Slow  

February 23, 1992, Chicago, Illinois

There was no race on Sunday and we were in the sunroom with the kids when the doorbell rang. I got up to answer it and was surprised to see Michelle. I invited her in and shut the door behind her.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Sorry to barge in, but do you have time to talk?”

“Let me check with Jessica and Kara, but I’m sure it’ll be OK.”

They agreed, so I brewed some tea and then Michelle and I went to the ‘Indian’ room as usual.

“So?” I asked.

“I had another talk with my priest after confession and wanted to talk to you some more.”

“It’s your dime!” I grinned.

“You know a call costs a quarter these days, right?”

“I have a cellular phone so I don’t use pay phones very often! So what’s the issue?”

“The usual. Faith. Love. Friendship. Sex. Curiosity. Confusion.”

“You’re a college student. And eighteen. That’s normal.”

“My priest is worried I’m going to lose my faith. Or my virginity. Or both. That was the big talk on Friday.”

“Because you’re talking to me.”

A statement, not a question.

“Yes. ‘Nothing good can come of that’,” he said.

“It doesn’t surprise me that he would see it that way. I suspect he’s not used to dealing with people who are as secure and grounded in their faith as you are. Tell him this: For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

“Wait, did you just pull that quote out of your head?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. It’s Romans 8:38-39. I know lots of verses. Just because I’m a heathen sinner doesn’t mean I don’t know the Bible!”

She laughed, “I think you have more faith than you admit. But, that’s for another time. That verse, can you write down the reference?”

I went to my study and retrieved a scratch pad and a pencil. I wrote out the citation and gave it to her.

“Ask him if he thinks I’m more powerful than all the things on the list!”

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Several times, but I wasn’t going to betray Becka. If she made our relationship public, that was her business, not mine. But I had another, earlier incident I COULD relay.

“Yes,” I smirked. “It’s how I got Kara into bed!”

“You’re serious!” she exclaimed.

“Yes. But that’s neither here nor there. That’s the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Ha! If that were true, you wouldn’t have said it. Look, I’m not afraid of you being silly or teasing a bit. Why should I be? And you’re just being you and being honest. Isn’t that what this is about? Intimacy?”

“To a point,” I replied. “I do watch my language, and what I say.”

“And I appreciate the lack of crudity,” she said. “I understand it when we’re in the large group. It’s just the way people talk. But you respect me enough to be careful. But you don’t have to be fake.”

“Understood. Did your priest say why he thought this was risky?”

“The usual reasons. He cited the verse that says a man shouldn’t even walk down the street where the prostitutes work because he’ll be tempted.”

“We men ARE weak in that regard!” I chuckled. “He’s right, to a point, because it is true that temptation is everywhere and it only takes a momentary weakness to fall.”

“Yes. He sees you as some kind of soothsayer.”

I sighed, “Just like Kara’s pastor. The difference is, he was the charlatan. Now, I don’t know your priest, but YOU aren’t fake.”

She smiled, “No, I’m not. This is the real me. And I’m seeing the real you. You’re different in here than out there.”

“Different goals,” I said. “Therefore different methods. I’m helping you explore and building you up. Out there I’m challenging. You get challenged too, but differently.”

“I’m challenged by everyone else’s attitudes towards faith, love, relationships, and sex.”

“Yes. But you only ever espouse Christian love. I haven’t heard you condemn anyone. Not even me!”

“I believe everybody can be redeemed. That gives me a different perspective, don’t you think?”

“Because you look for the good in people and for reasons to love them.”

She nodded, “Just as you do. But you express it differently. And I’m not talking about intercourse. You show you love people by challenging them to understand themselves, understand their beliefs, and be honest with themselves and others.”

“An interesting observation.”

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I actually could have left when you gave me this Bible verse from Romans. I’m glad I stayed!”

“I’m glad you stayed, too. These conversations are awesome!”

“Do you think that next Sunday, after the Rap Session, we could use the sauna?”

“Are you really ready for that?” I asked.

“Silly! I’m pure, not ignorant! I’ll bring my bathing suit. And you’ll wear one, too!”

I laughed, “Yours goes to your ankles and wrists?”

“I’m Catholic, not Amish!” she laughed. “It’s a modest, one-piece suit.”

“Then bring it with you next Sunday.”

“Thanks!” she said.

We got up and I walked her out.

February 25, 1992, Chicago, Illinois

On Tuesday, at lunch, I went to the diner for the first time in three weeks. I had ordered my thoughts and how I would apologize and what I would say. At that point, it would be up to Crystal to accept my apology or not. The only question for me was whether I should sit in one of Angie’s booths, or one of Crystal’s. There wasn’t a third option, because they each covered half the counter as well. In the end, I decided to sit at one of Crystal’s booths and see what happened.

“Finally decided to show your face again?” Crystal said with obvious disdain.

“I was in Pittsburgh and Los Angeles on business.”

“The usual?” she asked curtly.

“Yes. And I want to apologize and explain.”

“Explain?” she laughed derisively. “That’s rich! You’re a first-class jerk!”

“Who just said he wanted to apologize. But if you aren’t interested in an apology, I can move to Angie’s booth and then find a different place to eat lunch on Tuesdays so I don’t upset you.”

She glared at me, turned and went to put in my order. Her silence didn’t really tell me anything other than to stay where I was. Unless she started talking, there wasn’t much I could do. I pulled out my magazine and started reading. My order was simple, so it was ready in just over five minutes and Crystal brought it to the table.

“Let’s hear this apology.”

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I DID behave like a jerk. I made a bunch of mistakes. If you’ll listen, I’ll explain what I did wrong and why. And if you give me a chance, I’ll do my best to make it right.”

“3:45pm,” she said. “The coffee shop.”

She turned and walked away. Progress. I ate my salad, drank my water, and read my magazine. When I finished, I left a tip, paid the check and headed back to the office. I asked Kimmy to rearrange two calls I was supposed to make, and then spent a few hours working on issues related to the BLS acquisition that was consuming nearly all of my time. I left the office at about 3:40pm and found Crystal waiting for me in the coffee shop.

“Talk,” she said icily.

“Crystal, can we at least be civil? Please?”

“You wanted to explain. Explain.”

I wondered just how much good this would do, but I was here, and she deserved to hear it, even if it ultimately had no effect.

“All of this, all of it, is my fault. I teased you and ultimately manipulated you into voicing your desire without any intention of even allowing you a chance to act on that desire. It was mean. It was cruel. I hope you can see your way to forgive me.”

“Why?”

“Why forgive me? Or why did I do it?”

“Both. But why you did it, first.”

“It was, I think, a horribly misguided attempt to see if I could just be friends with a girl. I obviously made a number of mistakes...”

“Obviously,” she interrupted.

“Yes. And given that was my intent, it was foolish and cruel to back you into that corner. Once I’d done that, you felt as if it was a game, if you will, where we both knew the ending, but there was a dance we had to do to get there. I made it worse by taking on the James Bond persona, which screamed my desire to take you to bed. But I had no intention of doing that. You even said the persona meant that. I denied it, but I’m sure that seemed like part of the game, especially when I agreed to go out with you again in the same persona.

“I tried to deflect it by calling you ‘Miss Moneypenny’, but that only served to upset you and you pushed me to give you another name. We both gave each other the silent treatment for the drive to Benihana. You because you were rightly angry with me, and me because I didn’t know how to fix things. Then, after dinner, you tried to force the issue. And I reminded you of the clear, inviolable rule that I’d told you about. You became upset and I took you home. That’s what I did. I can tell you what you did if you want to hear, but it’s not necessary.”

“I’d like to hear THAT! Go on, turn it around and make it my fault.”

I shook my head, “That’s not my intent. You admitted, under extreme pressure, a desire. When we talked about it, mostly in humor, but sometimes seriously, you expressed things that made me believe we were incompatible. That gave me serious pause and I made it clear that because of that, I wasn’t interested. When I wouldn’t relent, you tried to retract what you had said. At that point, I told you about the STD test. Either it didn’t register or you blocked it out sometime before our last date, and then when you tried to force the issue, you called me a jerk because you didn’t remember I’d told you that.

“The only thing I think you did wrong was that very last bit. I couldn’t even consider being with you without that test, no matter how strong your argument, no matter what kind of desire I might have had. It wouldn’t have mattered. That rule simply cannot be broken. It can’t even be bent, really. So, from my perspective, one of two things happened. You didn’t get the test because you didn’t REALLY want to go to bed with me, and that was a way to make me the bad guy. Or, you acted on the spur-of-the-moment and forgot about it. I’d wager the latter.

“That’s it. That’s my explanation of what happened. It’s basically my fault and I accept responsibility for what I did. As for why you should forgive me, it’s because I’m sincere in my apology, and I am sorry for what I did. I don’t know that there’s any way to ever properly repair the damage. If I had talked to you in a reasonable way, I might have quickly discovered the things I did and not led you on.”

I sipped my coffee and waited. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be met with silence, an explosion, or something in between. In the end, the worst possible outcome, even after an explosion, would be to simply walk away and find a new place to eat on Tuesdays. And that might well be the correct solution no matter what. It wasn’t clear that we could repair the situation.

“Do you know how you made me feel? Do you even understand?”

“I certainly didn’t think about that at the time, that’s for sure.”

“First, you make me feel cheap by having to say something out loud that never needs to be said. To me, it’s something you work up to and it kind of happens naturally. Instead, you made me seem like some slutty sorority chick. Then, after you do that, you make me feel worthless by saying sex with me would be horrible and you wouldn’t even consider it. Then you led me on and toyed with me, only to slam the door in my face and treat me like a used tissue to be discarded.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I believe you are. The guy who laughed with his friends and talked to me at first seemed like a nice, sweet guy who would be fun to be around. The guy who took me to dinner at his friend’s place was interesting, sexy, and cool. But then you showed me just how much of a jerk you could be. Yes, I wasn’t thinking about the test when I pushed you that night, but can you blame me? You purposefully did everything you could to confuse me! You toyed with me and played with me!”

“I know.”

“You have no idea how frustrated, confused, and upset I was. You were playing mind games with me. You were obviously flirting, or I thought you were. I wanted you to get to the point where we might go to bed together. I wanted you in the worst possible way. And that Bond outfit just pushed me over the edge. But I couldn’t have you. And then you pushed me away, hard.”

“All true,” I said. “Though I wasn’t intending to flirt, even though I’m sure it looked like I was, and if you perceived it that way, it’s my fault.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“Come have lunch next Tuesday,” Crystal said. “I need to decide what to do.”

I almost asked what she had to decide, but the ‘mindfulness’ discussion caused me to stop before the words crossed my lips. The last thing I wanted to do was create a new problem, reopen the wounds, or act like a jerk.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” I said, then drained my coffee cup.

She nodded, drained hers and we left the coffee shop. I headed back to the office to make one phone call, then went home to wait for Bethany who was supposed to arrive about 5:00pm.

“Do you want me to get Jess by myself?” Kara asked.

“No. The LAST thing I need to do is give Bethany priority over you or Jess. Doing THAT would be about the dumbest way to start out this new arrangement, don’t you think?”

“I think she’d understand.”

“I don’t want her to have to understand! If I don’t keep my priorities straight, everything will go straight to hell. I made the point that when Bethany gets here she has to focus on getting the Center running and on Nicholas. Once things settle into something of a routine, THEN the four of us will sit down and talk this out.”

“So it’s not decided?” Kara asked.

“It is,” I nodded. “But it isn’t.”

“Schrödinger’s fuck request?” Kara smirked.

“Something like that,” I chuckled.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind being in ‘superposition’ with you!” Kara giggled.

“Now THERE is an idea that is a certainty, not a probability!”

“You know, I really like the new, thoughtful you, Snuggle Bear. It’s a VERY different experience.”

“You do realize that there is also a near-absolute certainty that I will act like a «jävla idiot» at some point in the future.”

“You are, ultimately, still a MAN!” she laughed. “A loving, caring, thoughtful man; but still a MAN!”

“Dad?” Jesse called out, coming into the great room.

“Yes?”

“Where are they?!”

I checked my watch, “They should be here soon. They said 5:00pm and it’s just 5:00pm right now.”

“Can I go on the front porch?” he asked.

“May I?” I corrected.

He rolled his eyes, and said, in an exasperated voice, “Dad, MAY I go on the front porch?”

“Yes. But put on your coat, hat, and gloves. It’s cold outside.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

He moved quickly to the foyer to put on his winter things and went out the front door onto the porch.

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