A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 6 - Samantha
Chapter 59: It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over

Copyright © 2015-2023 Penguintopia Productions

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 59: It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over - This is the continuation of the story told in "A Well-Lived Life 2", Book 5. If you haven't read the entire 10 book "A Well-Lived Life" and the first five 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.

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

May 4, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“Come in, Jess,” I said.

She shut the door behind her and walked over to the loveseat and sat down. Kara and I shuffled pillows and propped ourselves in bed, ensuring the duvet covered our bodies.

“Please don’t be angry with Jorge,” Jessica said. “That was my fault, not his.”

“I’m not angry with anyone,” I said. “You don’t need my permission.”

“I begged him to come meet me without talking to you first.”

“Jess, I’m fine. Whatever you were doing was your business. I won’t be angry with Jorge. I plan to call him tomorrow to make sure he’s OK.”

“He’s freaked out because he thinks you think he was going to sleep with me.”

“I know the man well enough to know that would never have happened without him talking to me first, or you divorcing us.”

Jessica sighed, “I’m not sure he could have resisted the temptation.”

“I am. It’s fine. Go back to him.”

“He went home. He was very upset and very embarrassed.”

“I’m sorry I spoiled your birthday. I really am.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked.

I suppressed the urge to climb out of bed and slap her across the face. Kara could sense the tension and squeezed my arm. I took a couple of deep breaths and let them out.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! How many fucking times do I have to say ‘I love you’ before you’ll fucking understand that I fucking mean it? I’m wasting my fucking breath. I have no more energy for this. Your priorities are so fucked up that you can’t even see how much you’ve hurt us. Go the fuck home, Jessica. Leave.”

Without a word, she got up and walked to the door of the bedroom, opened it, stepped, out, and closed it behind her.

“It’s over,” Kara said, a tear running down her cheek.

“Yes,” I sighed. “It’s over.”

May 4, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

On Tuesday morning, after a brief family meeting with Kara, Samantha, Abbie, Jennifer, and Josie, I called a locksmith to change all the locks on the house, and he committed to having that done by the end of the day. I also reprogrammed the alarm system to change everyone’s access codes. I asked Abbie to ensure that the exterior doors were locked at all times, and if Jessica did come to see the kids, she wasn’t to be left alone. I had no idea what Jessica was going to do after the incident the previous night, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

“What do you want to do about the apartment?” Elyse asked once we were in the car on the way to work.

“The lease expires at the end of June. I’ll simply notify Jessica we’re not renewing it and that gives her nearly two months to find a place and move, or she could probably keep the same place.”

“Do you want me to have Kimmy find another place? Perhaps one of those lofts not too far from the office?”

“Do you think we need it? How often do people come into town other than my dad?”

“Not that often these days. And your other needs seemed to have decreased.”

“True,” I said. “Don’t do anything about it right now.”

“OK. What about your health insurance?”

“I’d have to switch to whatever plan Cook County has on June 1st no matter what, so call our broker and get me on our Blue Cross plan, please. The kids, too. I’ll let Jessica know.”

“I’ll talk to the bank about the joint account and I’ll cancel her credit cards which she shares with you,” Elyse said.

I sighed, “Notify her before you do that, please. I don’t want to fuck her over.”

“No, of course you don’t,” Elyse said reprovingly.

“No attitude, please. I’m going to be as nice about this as I can.”

“You are a damned fool, Mr. Adams,” Elyse said. “She’s not coming back. Being nice to her isn’t going to make a bit of difference.”

“It has nothing to do with her, it has to do with me, and who I want to be. It’s common courtesy and human decency. And I love her.”

“You’re a bigger damned fool than I thought.”

“Whatever,” I sighed. “Abbie will tell Jessica about the keys and alarm codes when she comes this morning.”

“And give her a piece of her mind as well.”

“Jess is going to hear it from quite a few people. Fortunately, I’ll only hear it from one person, and I plan to ignore that person.”

“Your mom?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still plan to go to Iron Mountain?”

“Absolutely! It’ll be you, Kara, me, the kids, and Nicholas. We’ll manage with my car and the minivan.”

“What’s Samantha going to do?”

“Once she comes back from St. Martin? Work full time at Spurgeon Capital until school starts. She rearranged her class schedules at UofC for the fall so she has Tuesdays and Thursdays completely free so she can work all day on those days.”

“And she’s going to live in the dorms?”

“Yes. And on June 6th, Ensign Brian Frost is coming to dinner. As Samantha’s date.”

“What?!” Elyse exclaimed.

“She’s looking for a handsome young officer to escort her to functions. I don’t know that she’s interested in a serious relationship, but if he can tolerate the BS that will be her social life, she’ll fuck him as close to death as is humanly possible. I’d say it’s a fair exchange!”

Elyse laughed, “I read what you wrote in your journal. It’s hard to believe that little girl is THAT good!”

“You were!” I laughed.

“I suppose I was,” Elyse smirked. “Though we went two full years without having sex after the first time.”

“Two years and three months,” I grinned.

“You don’t have it down to days, hours, and minutes?” she laughed.

“No. But the point remains. You didn’t have a monopoly of being a wonderful lover at age eighteen. There have been others, too. Some even younger. My office mate was fifteen!”

“OK. OK. I’ve read it all! You seem to be in a reasonably good mood.”

“I could throw a tantrum if you prefer,” I offered.

“No,” Elyse said shaking her head. “I suppose you’ve had nearly two months to prepare for this. What will you do?”

“Right now? Just continue how things are. Then, move towards just me and Kara, at least for a time. Well, you, of course.”

“Seriously? Just Kara and me?”

“At least for a time. Maybe long-term. We’ll see.”

“Does ‘move towards’ mean you’re going to have a summer of fun?” Elyse giggled, making air quotes.

“I’ll see Jodie in Iron Mountain, Tara in Pittsburgh, and Lyusya here in Chicago. Really, the only thing I’d need to change is possibly with Jodie, but I’m going to encourage her to date and find a guy her age.”

“And St. Martin?”

“I only agreed to help Samantha join the ‘Mile-High Club.”

“Uh-huh,” Elyse laughed.

“Before I forget, did you order the cell phones we talked about?”

“Yes. For the management team. We’ll have them next week.”

“I also want you to look at a car lease for you, Cindi, and Julia.”

“I’ll need to run the numbers.”

“I know. Just let me know.”

“You’re too calm. That concerns me.”

“I did offer to throw a tantrum if it would make you happy.”

“I’ll pass,” Elyse grinned.

May 5, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“My mother is fit to be tied,” Jeri said on Wednesday morning at the office.

“She can’t be surprised by this development.”

The Tribune had run an article about Noel Spurgeon and tied his victims to the Lundgren Foundation and several other charitable organizations he was associated with. I’d given an interview to Stan Jakes on ‘deep background’ about the inner workings of the Foundation. He’d used THAT information to ask some very difficult questions. Ones I was very happy to see asked.

“No, but it’s created a serious problem for her. And for the Board of Directors.”

“Yes it has. She really only has one option. I’m sure you know what she has to do. But even that’s probably not enough to solve the problem.”

“I’m not ready for this,” Jeri sighed.

“Be that as it may, the only way to save the Foundation is for your mother to step down and put you in charge, and for all Board members except Alec and me to resign. There are AT LEAST 20 victims who can be associated with the Foundation, even if he actually met them some other place.”

“I’ll have to quit NIKA if that happens.”

“I don’t see any other options,” I said. “And you appoint Samantha to the board, along with Gail Winston from Northwestern. I’d also suggest Ben Jackson and Ben van Hoek. That would give you five board members to start with, all of whom are squeaky clean.”

“You and Samantha?”

“She’s eighteen, and she was seventeen when we got together. Trust me; the Trib is NOT going to run any articles like that about me. I’m much more concerned about fixing the Foundation.”

“My mom will never give up control!”

“Call your top-ten donors. See if they’ll give a dime with her at the helm. Then you and Alec go to her with the reality of the situation. Both he and I are going to resign if she doesn’t. I talked to him yesterday. She has no options. If she tries to retain control, she’ll lose everything. And don’t forget the potential lawsuits against the Foundation and your mom!”

“Lawsuits?”

“Think about how they’ll spin it - she aided and abetted Noel Spurgeon. The threat of negative publicity alone would force a settlement. But I know how to get around that, too.”

“When did you become such a ruthless bastard?”

“It’s your own damned fault, Jeri. Make the calls, talk to Alec. She has until Monday to decide.”

“She doesn’t do ultimatums.”

“This time she will,” I said. “Trust me.”

“And I wanted to be a programmer...” Jeri sighed.

“Join the club,” I said, with a deep sigh of my own.

May 6, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“Hi, Al,” I said.

We were having lunch at Medici on Thursday. I hadn’t heard from Jessica and she hadn’t been to see the kids since Monday.

“Hi,” he said with a grim look.

“How is she?”

“Emotionless. Doctor Swanson told me you had the locks changed as well as the alarm codes?”

“When she hits bottom, it’s going to be ugly. And she will hit bottom.”

“And you’ll be there to pick up the pieces?” Al ask, with a raised eyebrow.

“As big a damned fool as I am, yes, I will. Even if she doesn’t come back to me.”

“You aren’t a damned fool, Steve. You love her and you care what happens to her.”

“I shouldn’t,” I said.

“I thought you told me that’s how love worked,” Al said with a wan smile.

“Which doesn’t make me any less a damned fool.”

“I talked to Sally Robertson. She didn’t have any more luck than either Doctor Lewis or Doctor Swanson. And neither did Doctor Sinha.”

“She’s decided she doesn’t need anyone,” I sighed. “Something bad is going to happen. I feel it in my bones.”

“I fear you’re right, but she’s the model of sanity and clarity at work. The fact that I KNOW she has emotional problems doesn’t do any good if she’s not exhibiting performance problems.”

“I’ve been in the same boat when I’ve had employees with outside problems I know are messing them up. But if their performance is OK, there’s nothing we can do if they won’t accept our help.”

“I’m concerned now that she’s not going to be at UofC past the end of the month.”

“You must know some people at Cook County,” I said.

“I do,” Al said. “But how do I convey the message without harming her?”

“Call it tough love or being a cold-hearted bastard, but maybe what she needs is to lose the Fellowship and see her career end in smoking ruins. Maybe THAT would get her attention.”

“I couldn’t do that and you never would.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I sighed. “But it may well end in smoking ruins anyway. Another meltdown...”

“Would doom her career,” Al said completing the thought I’d left hanging in midair.

“I have one last bolt to fire,” I said. “I’m going to try tomorrow evening.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d prefer to keep this to myself. Even Kara doesn’t know.”

“Should I worry?”

“Only about when the meltdown is going to happen,” I sighed.

May 7, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

“Thanks for meeting me,” I said.

“I was going to asked if you were armed, but then I remembered you’re a 3rd degree black belt.”

“3rd Dan, but yes. And you are NOT at risk. I mean that.”

“You do realize why I’m uncomfortable?”

“Yes, I do.”

Jorge and I were sitting at a private table at the Bucktown Bistro. We’d both come straight from work.

“Nothing happened.”

“Jorge, I believe you, and if it did, it doesn’t matter for the purposes of my relationship with you. Have you seen her since Monday night?”

“No. She’s called me a few times but I’ve let her calls go to the answering machine. I’m not sure what to say to her.”

“Right now, you’re the only person she seems to want to talk to. And that’s why I’m here. I WANT you to talk to her. I want you to be intimate with her.”

“You mean your version of intimacy, right?”

I smiled, “Yes. But the other kind is fine, if that’s what it takes to get her back on track.”

Jorge shook his head, “You can’t give that kind of permission any more than Kurt or Pete could. I’ve listened to you guys, and the rule makes perfect sense. I can’t violate it.”

“You’re a good man, Lucy,” I grinned. “And that’s what I need from you. Be her best friend, the same way as I am with Doctor Gina. Jess needs someone to talk to, and it looks as if it’s you.”

Jorge looked down nervously, his eyes darting around. I KNEW what the problem was, and if he didn’t articulate it, I would. He did.

“Steve, she wants to be intimate, and not your way. I’m sure that was her plan for Monday night. To get me back to the apartment and use her ‘feminine wiles’ on me,” he said with a grin.

I chuckled, “And after Halloween, you’d be putty in her hands. I know the feeling. There have been one or two girls like that in my past.”

“The one you cheated on Kara with?”

“Thank you very much for rubbing salt AND lemon juice in the wound, Lucy!” I deadpanned, but then smiled.

“I was just giving an example you yourself have given,” Jorge said.

“Not one of my better moments, that’s for sure. I am serious, though. I’d like you to see her. Talk to her. Be her friend. All of us are worried about her, including Doctor Barton.”

“Am I supposed to report back to you?” he asked.

I shook my head, “No. I mean, I hope you’ll tell me if she’s sick or suffering in some way, but no, all I’m asking you to do is be her friend.”

“All I can do is try,” he said.

“I do want to share something with you. About two years ago, in a counseling session, Doctor Green, our marriage counselor said something that is particularly relevant. That Jessica, Kara, and I each had core personality traits. I’m sure you can guess mine,” I grinned.

“Hmm. Celibate monk? Or harem eunuch?” Jorge teased.

“Exactly!” I laughed. “Or exactly the opposite! Anyway, Kara’s was being a mom, and Jessica’s was being ‘Doctor Jessica’. What Doctor Green said was that Jessica needed to find a way to be ‘Doctor Jessica’ but also be a loving wife to me and Kara, and a loving mother to our son, and to our then unborn daughter. He talked about accommodations, and said that the one who had compromised the least was Jessica. Both Kara and I compromised a lot to accommodate her training. She acknowledges that. I think that analysis was accurate then and is accurate now. And that’s the fundamental issue.”

 
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