Chapter 1

This is the third and final series from a group of nonfiction stories that began with "Angelina" and continued with "Sisters."

Sometimes there is no way to explain or even justify life. It simply assaults you, absolutely at random. Things happen that are so utterly cruel, you realize the gods must have it in for you. Then, just when everything seems completely hopeless, and crushing despair is all you can feel, life often changes its fickle mind and blesses you with something equally wonderful.

My beautiful wife of six years lay dying in a hospital bed. Christ, she was only twenty-seven; way too young to be on a fucking life-support machine. Still, there she was, slipping away, and all I could do was hold her hand as I cried at her side.

The EKG monitor finally went flat. My angel had lost her battle to survive, and we never even got to say goodbye.

Some drunken asshole had passed out at the wheel and crossed the center line, effectively ending two lives when he crashed into Angelina. She was just driving home from the grocery store, and suddenly she was gone. I may as well have died too.

The asshole drunk driver? He hardly suffered a scratch, and didn't remember a thing.

I was lost. I didn't want to live any longer.

One dreary Wednesday evening I was sitting at the dining room table writing my suicide note when my older brother burst into the kitchen.

Scott was like Kramer from Seinfeld in that he never knocked before he would just come barging in. He lived in L.A. with his wife Monica, but he was in San Francisco that week on business so I had him staying at my place.

He sat down at the table with me, and before I could even do anything he snatched my paper away. "What's this?" he asked casually.

Once he read the first few sentences, he slammed the paper on the table. Pissed off, he shoved me in the chest, knocking me to the kitchen floor. "This is bullshit!" he roared. "You are not going to do this to Mom! You cannot fuck us over like this!"

He expected me to fight back, or at least attempt to explain myself, but I had no fight in me, and nothing to say.

When he finally calmed down, he made me tell him everything. We talked deep into the night, then he called Monica to let her know what was going on. Long story short, we agreed that the only chance I had was to move somewhere far away and try to start a whole new life.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said. "I'm taking you out of here. You're coming to live with Monica and me, and we're leaving tonight. We'll worry about the rest later."

The months dragged by. Life went on. I didn't care, so Scott managed to sell my house. I was staying in one of his extra bedrooms in their modest, well-kept home in L.A. He and Monica tried to keep me involved in things, and I did my best to be courteous and friendly, but mostly I was just existing. I would get up and go to work, then come home and watch TV with them until it was time to go to bed. On my off days I'd help around the house and otherwise just try to keep busy somehow.

I wasn't still thinking about suicide; at least not constantly, anyway, the way I had been before. I sure as hell wasn't thinking much about living, either. Like I said, I was just existing.

I appreciated all their help, so I gave Scott $20,000 from the sale of my house. He didn't want to take it, but I insisted, and I put the rest in the bank. I felt the time had come to stop being a burden to them, and I had at least regained enough emotional stability to convince them that I wasn't going to kill myself. I'd be okay eventually, was the working plan.

We decided I would get my own place. That was the whole point of moving away, wasn't it, to start all over? At some point I was going to have to try, and they grudgingly agreed it was time.

I didn't want another house. I didn't want anything other than an apartment, or maybe even just a room for rent. I wanted as few responsibilities as possible.

A few days later I was browsing the local classifieds over breakfast at a coffee shop. I circled a fairly promising 'Room for Rent' ad: 'Single woman looking to share a small but nice two-bedroom apartment. Good location, clean apartment. Male or female, either is fine. Pets are negotiable. No smokers and no flakes.'

I called the number and was shocked to hear my friend Stacey answer the phone!

"Stacey?"

"Dan? Is that you? Hey, whatcha doing? We haven't talked in, what's it been, a couple of years now?"

"I was ... well, I was calling in response to your room for rent ad!" I said, laughing.

That was the first time I'd laughed in I don't know how long.

"My room for rent ad? What happened to your house up north? Where's Angie?"

"Stacey, can I come and see you? We need to talk."

"Definitely. Come on over," she said, and she gave me her address.

"I can be there in about an hour. Is that okay?"

"That's fine. It's so great to hear your voice again! See you in a bit!"

Two hours later I was sitting on her couch, and I'd told her everything. We cried together for a long time.

"Oh, Dan, I'm so sorry. I can't believe it. I just can't believe Angie is gone. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."

"It's not your fault, Stacey. Things happen, and sometimes people just fall out of touch."

Stacey and I were best friends growing up. We were next-door neighbors, so we went to elementary school, junior high and high school together. She was a tomboy, always just 'one of the guys.' Though we were never boyfriend and girlfriend, at nine years old we were each other's first kissing partners. Hiding beneath the stairs in our apartment complex, we played "I'll show you mine if you show me yours!"

We always sat together in class, and she would cheat off my work. We did homework together too, and when we were in high school we went to football games and movies as part of a larger group of friends. We were inseparable. We remained friends throughout high school before heading off to the same college.

By that time she was no longer a tomboy, and I definitely noticed the change. She had become a very beautiful young woman.

The thing is, during all that time we never managed to date. She had her boyfriends, I had my girlfriends, and it became difficult to keep seeing each other.

Although we promised to stay in touch when she moved on to grad school some 3,000 miles away, our contacts became much less frequent. Because we did at least manage to keep up with each other via the occasional letter, she came to our wedding when I married Angie, my on-again/off-again girlfriend from the time we were eleven years old. The three of us were friends in high school, but Angie and I ended up taking it all the way.

Stacey always seemed to be okay with it, though there was often an underlying current of tension between us whenever the subject of Angie came up. "Dan, I'm fine with you two being together. I like her a lot, and she's good for you," she told me one day during our summer break before the start of college. "Besides, it's not as if we're boyfriend and girlfriend, right? I get it ... we're only friends. Look, I admit I sometimes feel a little jealous about you being with her, but I know I have no right. Let's not make a big deal over it, okay? Just let me handle it on my own, and I'll manage."

"Really?" I asked. "You? Jealous? I never knew."

"I never wanted you to know, alright? I'm just 'one of the guys, ' remember? So can we drop it now?"

The last time I had spoken to Stacey she'd just earned her master's degree and was looking for a job. She was thinking of moving back to L.A., where we all grew up together. That was more than two years ago.

"So how long have you been back in L.A.?" I asked.

"About a year now," Stacey said.

"Why didn't you call or write to let us know where you were?"

"I don't know, I guess I just thought it would be best if I left you and Angie alone."

"Were you ever going to call or write?"

"What about you?" she responded defensively. "It's not like you kept writing me either."

"Stacey, you know I would have always made sure you had my new address and phone number if anything ever changed."

"Well, I'm sorry. Now I'm really sorry," she added, hugging me.

"Anyway," I continued, "what's your story? Why are you renting out your second bedroom?"

"Oh, well, my last roommate was a total flake. She skipped out on me with no notice. She didn't even pay her final month's rent. That's why I put 'no flakes' in my ad," she laughed. "I'm still paying off my school loans, and while I'm working and doing okay, I still need to be pretty frugal about things. Besides, you know me, I was never into money, flashy cars and all that fancy stuff. This place is fine for me. I'm always working, so I'm hardly ever here. I just need a reliable roommate."

Of course we made the decision that I'd come live there. She was thrilled, and I was at least relieved. We talked about how it would work living together, especially with her place having only one bathroom. We agreed there would probably be times when we'd need to share the bathroom in emergencies, and that knocking first would be a good idea. When necessary we'd throw on a towel, and if worse came to worst we would try to avert our eyes.

The idea was to keep things really casual and low-stress.

The same held true regarding the way we would dress around the apartment. Neither of us typically wore much at home anyway, so we wouldn't insist that the other wear a fur parka just for modesty's sake.

"What about dating and bringing people here?" she asked.

"There won't be anything for you to worry about there with me. I won't be bringing home any girls. Believe me, that's the last thing you have to worry about," I said, sullenly.

"Oh, Dan," she frowned, taking my hand.

"What about you?" I asked, changing the subject. "Dating anybody?"

"Nothing serious. I date here and there, but mostly I just don't have the time. If I ever do bring someone here, I promise I'll try to be discreet."

"It's your place, Stacey. You do whatever you want."

"Uh-huh," she said, eyeing me closely.

Finally we'd talked everything through, and I moved in the following week.

To be honest, not much had changed with me. I'd moved in with Stacey, but I was still working the same job. A couple of months had gone by, and I remained sad and withdrawn. When I wasn't at work, I was mostly staying to myself in my room.

Well, okay, one thing had changed. My brother Scott had decided that I needed to start looking at women again, so despite my protests he hooked up a new computer in my bedroom.

"Porn, you idiot. What else would you need a computer for?" he laughed.

He also decided to start taking me to strip clubs almost every Friday night. Just to humor him, I went along with it. We went to the clubs, and I watched the beautiful dancers. I even browsed various porn sites, both the soft and hardcore varieties.

I really did try. I had some lap dances. I attempted to jack off in my bedroom. I did all the usual things that used to get me excited.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing worked. I couldn't become erect; certainly not enough to cum. I never told Scott that, though. He was trying so hard to help me snap out of my doldrums that I just didn't have the heart to burst his bubble.

The first crack in my ice occurred one morning during breakfast, and it was over the silliest, most mundane of events. While enjoying a rare day off from work, I was sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal when Stacey walked into the kitchen.

She was wearing her usual 'relaxing around the house' clothes: little jogging shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary; it was pretty much the same as most of our mornings together.

For some reason, though, I happened to notice her legs that morning. It wasn't like I was leering at them or anything either. No, I just happened to notice them when she reached up to grab a glass from the cupboard.

'She has really pretty legs, ' I found myself thinking. I also noticed that she had an incredibly great body. Despite her loose t-shirt it was obvious that she had nicely flared hips, a flat stomach and large, firm breasts. She clearly had a great ass, too. I mean an amazingly great ass.

'There is just nothing wrong with her body, ' I thought. Then I noticed my cock starting to stir a little. 'Hey! That's a first!'

I hadn't gotten hard since Angie had passed. We'd shared a fantastic sex life, and once she was gone I basically ceased to be a sexual being.

Stacey caught me looking at her legs. Giving me a sweet smile, she poured herself a glass of juice before pulling up a chair beside me.

Like an idiot, I just kept staring.

"What? Dan, you're blushing," she grinned.

"Nothing," I said, quickly looking down at my cereal.

She gave me another sweet little smile. "Okay," she said, still smiling as she got up to put her glass in the sink before walking out of the kitchen.

I noticed her legs again, and her ass, too.

'Why haven't I ever noticed her ass before?' I found myself thinking. It suddenly dawned on me that Stacey truly had a fantastic ass; really, a world-class ass. That was also the first time I noticed her blonde ponytail, which was bouncing prettily as she walked away.

'Hmmmm, ' I smiled to myself.

That evening I was watching a movie when Stacey came home with Chris, a co-worker she occasionally dated. She had brought him home twice before, and we all got along just fine. They'd hang out in the living room, I'd go to my room, and he would leave a couple of hours later.

That night Stacey asked me to stay and hang out with them. She said it was my apartment too, and that I didn't have to run off and hide in my room whenever Chris came over. Chris said the same thing, inviting me to stay and watch the movie with them.

I was in our little love seat facing the TV, and they were together on the couch. Eventually I turned off the lights so we could watch the movie better. After a while, I heard shifting sounds coming from the couch. Glancing their way, I noticed that Chris had moved. Having pulled Stacey close to his side, he had his arm around her shoulders. He was watching the movie, but Stacey was watching me. I quickly looked away.

About a half-hour later I heard more rustling sounds. Chris had dropped a hand over her shoulder, onto her breast. He was trying to undo the top buttons on her blouse, and Stacey was quietly trying to stop him. When she saw me watching, her eyes went into a brief panic.

Wanting to give her some space, I got up and went to the kitchen. Taking my time, I grabbed a glass of water before returning to the living room. "Thanks, guys, but I'm heading off to bed now," I said.

They were still on the couch, and Stacey had managed to close her blouse buttons. She looked up at me with deep sadness in her eyes. "Okay, sleep well," she said softly.

Chris said, "Have a good one."

I went to my room, where I took off my clothes and put on a pair of shorts.

Noticing another slight stirring in my cock, I thought, 'There it is again.' I was maybe halfway hard. 'Okay, let's fire up the ol' computer and see if I can't find something I like...'

I logged on and browsed around for a while.

Nothing. My half hard-on had gone away.

I heard Chris leave, and I was about to log off when I happened to stumble upon some pictures of a pretty blonde with a ponytail sticking out of her baseball cap.

'Mmmm, ' I thought. Okay, that girl did a little something for me.

I heard a quiet knock on my bedroom door. "Dan, are you still awake?" came Stacey's voice.

"Yes, come on in."

When Stacey walked into my room, I noticed right away that she'd changed her clothes. She was again wearing her little shorts and t-shirt, and her long blonde hair that she had been wearing up was in a ponytail.

"Chris went home," she said.

"I know. I heard him leave."

"I sent him home. I thought he was making you uncomfortable."

"Stacey, no, you don't have to do that. This is your apartment, and you have a life. Believe me, live your life."

"It's just that I know you saw ... well, you know..."

"Stacey, it's okay. What, because I live with you now, you're not supposed to have any fun? I don't want that for you."

"Are you sure? I can always take him to my room, or maybe we should just go to his place instead. I hate that you feel like you have to hide in your room whenever I have company. This is your place too now. I want you to feel totally welcome here."

"Stacey, look, if it'll make you feel better, I'll try to not 'hide in my room' every time he comes over. Okay?"

"I'd like that."

"The thing is, it works both ways."

"What do you mean?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Stacey, I saw you. I saw that look of panic in your eyes when Chris had his hand on you and you knew I was watching. You were far more weirded out over it than I was. I took off to give you some space simply because you looked so uncomfortable with my seeing him touching you."

"I'm so sorry about that, Dan. I really am. I've never been in that situation before, you know, with another guy, and you ... watching me. I guess I can't help but think back to how jealous I used to feel whenever I saw you and Angie making out. I'm sorry I did that tonight. I should just not bring him here anymore."

"Stacey, please don't do that to me."

"Don't do what to you?" she asked, fear showing in her beautiful eyes.

"Don't be so afraid for me. You're a grown woman. I know you're going to date, and I know what happens when people date, okay?" I gave her a small smile.

"I don't know, Dan. Are you sure? You really don't mind seeing me like that?"

"Well, I don't know that I'd go that far," I added, still smiling. "I'm just saying you deserve to have fun, and I don't want to be the reason you don't have any. Look, let me deal with it, okay? Let me work it out within myself as to what I'm willing to watch. You just enjoy yourself. That's what I really want for you. I want you to be happy, Stacey."

Laughing, she said, "If you think I'm going to break down and have wild orgies in front of you just because you say it's okay, then you've got another thing coming, mister!"

We both laughed together, for maybe the first time since I'd moved in with her.

"What about you, though? What are you doing about ... you know..." she asked, grinning as she coyly raised her eyebrows.

That's when she noticed the girl on my computer screen - the girl with the long blonde ponytail. I realized too late that I'd left the image up on my screen.

I went to click it off.

"Dan..."

"Stacey, seriously, it's not what you think."

Again, she gave me a sweet smile. I think she knew she was driving me crazy with those little smiles.

"I'm serious," I said, embarrassed. "It's really not what you think."

"Oh, and what do I think?" she grinned, obviously enjoying my chagrin.

"I'm sure you must think I'm sitting in here all night jacking off or whatever to porn," I said, looking down.

"Are you telling me you're not? Then who's she?"

"She's someone I just found, literally only a minute ago."

Stacey went over to sit at my computer. Still wearing her beguiling little grin, she studied the picture of the blonde girl. "Dan, you can't even see her face, much less her ass or any of her body. She's not even naked. I don't get it."

"That's because there's nothing to get. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Nothing was going on. I happened to see that picture, and I was just trying to figure out why I like it so much when you came in. That's the whole truth, I swear."

"Okay," she teased, still smiling. "Look to your heart's content at pictures of pretty blondes with ponytails. Whatever floats your boat, sweetie!"

Just then I realized it, and I think she did too. "Pretty blondes with ponytails," she'd said.

Stacey was a very pretty blonde with a long ponytail.

"Anyway, I just wanted to come check on you." Giggling, she flipped her ponytail across my face. "See you tomorrow morning," she grinned, kissing me on the cheek before heading back to her bedroom.

My cock stirred again.

The next morning I was reading the paper at the table when she walked into the kitchen.

There was no mistaking it; two days in a row, I'd noticed her amazing body and absolutely gorgeous face. While I was noticing things, I also noted a change in her usual morning attire. Along with her shorts being much smaller, her t-shirt was shorter and thinner. Her skintight tank top and painted-on shorts exposed quite a bit of her lower back, as well as the first few inches of her bare ass cheeks.

When she turned to face me, I knew something was definitely different. I could see her belly button, and she was very obviously braless. Her white cotton 'Aerosmith' t-shirt was an old threadbare relic with narrow shoulder straps and large, stretched-out arm holes, and her erect nipples were clearly evident.

"Sleep well?" she asked brightly; her usual morning greeting.

'She really is a doll, ' I thought. "Yes, thank you," I said. "How is it that you're always so cheery every morning? What's your secret?"

"Why shouldn't I be? I enjoy my life. I like my job, I'm in good health, and I have my best friend living with me. What's there to be grumpy about?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

She could see that I didn't quite share her enthusiasm.

"Dan, oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I know," I said, waving off her apology. "I just think it's great how you're always so happy. You're really awesome, Stace. You always were, you know. You've always been the funnest chick I've ever known."

"Funnest chick?" she laughed. "That's me: a 'fun chick.' I should put that on my résumé!"

"Well, you are!"

"Thank you, Dan," she giggled. "I know what you mean, and that's very sweet of you to say."

She turned to leave, saying she needed to go get dressed for work.

I headed to the bathroom to get ready for work too, and I had just hopped into the shower when she knocked on the door. "Dan, can I come in and go pee? I really gotta go!"

"Okay!" I said loudly over the noise of the shower.

She came in, still wearing her little shorts and thin t-shirt. The shower had an opaque curtain, not a glass door. Since we couldn't see each other through the curtain, we often used the bathroom together whenever one of us was showering.

When I finished my shower, I poked my head out to grab my towel. Though I didn't mean to, I saw her sitting on the toilet with her shorts around her knees as she peed.

Glancing up, she giggled, "Hey! Don't look, you big cheater!" Still giggling, she quickly covered her lap with a magazine.

"Sorry!" I said, ducking my head back behind the curtain, where I wrapped my towel around my waist. When I heard the toilet flush, I gave her some time.

"Ooh la la!" she said, as I stepped out of the shower. "Nice bod!" Grinning, she did a sexy little hip gyration while running her hands up and down her body like a stripper.

"Brat!" I said, laughing as I stood at the sink. "I need to go too," I added, gesturing to the toilet.

"Don't mind me. Let me just get out of your way." With her back to me, she slid in front of me. I slid to the left, giving her room to move by.

"Oops!" she giggled, when her ass rubbed against the front of my towel. "Good thing you have that thing on, huh?"

I just looked at her and smiled. I also noticed that I'd become halfway erect again. Damn!

"Go ahead," she said. "I'm just gonna brush my teeth."

I turned my back to her and opened my towel. I tried to go, but I had to be careful because I was semi-hard. I didn't want to miss and make a mess, especially with her standing right there.

As the sound of my heavy stream filled the silent space, she giggled, "Wow, you must have really had to go!"

Embarrassed, I finished up and turned back around.

"All better now?" she asked sweetly. Having finished brushing her teeth, she took off to go get dressed.

I was brushing my teeth when she came back into the bathroom wearing a skirt and blouse. Barefoot, she stood beside me at the sink. "Here ... skootch over a bit," she said, playfully hip-checking me to make me shift to my left.

Sharing the sink, I leaned over to spit out my toothpaste while she applied her mascara. When I stood again, she bent forward a bit to get closer to the mirror.

Her movement made me bump into her.

"You must really like this outfit!" she said, giving me a sunny grin.

"Huh?" I started to ask, and she bumped me right back. Looking over her shoulder, she glanced down to where my semi-erect cock was making an obvious tent of my towel as it pushed straight into her ass cheek!

I was mortified, but she just kept doing her make-up.

"Umm, I gotta get dressed," I said, trying to squeeze by so I could leave. When I was directly behind her, with my cock dragging across her ass, she pushed back against me again!

"See? I'm not the only one who's up this morning!" she said, smiling happily in the mirror.

That night I didn't see her. Scott had taken me out again to the strip club, and by the time I got home Stacey must have already gone to bed.

I logged on to surf some porn, and again ... nothing. Not even the beginnings of a hard-on. I tried to locate the picture of the blonde girl with the ponytail, hoping there would be more pictures of her somewhere, but I couldn't find her.

Depressed, I went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, Stacey had already showered. While I was getting ready to take my shower, I heard her puttering around in the kitchen.

I was standing at the sink when Stacey came into the bathroom wearing her work clothes. She was again sporting a skirt and blouse, though this time she also had on some sexy high heels. Just like the morning before, she wedged herself in front of me to do her eye make-up, and I immediately grew halfway hard.

'I'm really on to something here, ' I thought. 'If nothing else, Stacey seems to be able to get me hard, at least a little.'

Noticing my stares, Stacey made a joke about my "sexy bare chest" as she pushed her ass against my towel-covered crotch.

"Mmmm, I guess this outfit meets with your approval too," she said, grinning cutely.

I knew what she meant, but I didn't say anything. I just smiled back at her.

And so it went, with most every morning starting off by Stacey rubbing against me in the bathroom to see if I "approved of her outfit."

One morning I was shaving in the mirror when she came in and pushed by me from behind, rubbing her front against my bare back. I was only wearing sweatshorts, and she had on those tiny short-shorts and thin tank top.

She sat right down on the toilet and peed.

When I looked over at her, she had her hands in her lap; still, I could see her smooth legs all the way up to the side of her bare ass.

"I guess you approve of this outfit, too," she grinned, ogling the tent that had popped up in my shorts. "Make sure to look away now," she added, smiling brightly.

After finishing her business, she moved over to wedge herself in front of me again. As I continued shaving, she leaned forward on her elbows to brush her teeth; right away, she pushed her ass against my hardening crotch. Grinning at me in the mirror, she wiggled her bottom in sexy circles on my cock. "Mmmm-hmmm, someone definitely seems to like what I have on this morning!" she giggled.

Yes, I was really coming to enjoy our mornings in the bathroom together.

The best thing was that she was always just ... Stacey. She truly was that nice and sweet, and all she ever wanted was for us to have fun together. There was never any sexual tension, and her aim with her little morning game wasn't to be a prick-tease. She wasn't malicious about it, nor did she do it to feed her ego. That girl didn't have an ounce of attention-whore in her.

Nope, she simply enjoyed playing our little game we'd stumbled upon together. She liked the fact that she could make me hard, and she was especially happy when we smiled and laughed during those moments, since moments of laughter were so rare for me.

Nothing had changed between us. We were still the same together as we'd always been.

She let me know that Chris was coming over again that night, and I said that was fine with me. Giving me this adorable pouty look she knew I could never resist, she got me to agree to stay in the living room with them instead of bolting to my room.

That night I was again just wearing some shorts while having dinner and watching Sportscenter in the living room when they come home.

Chris seemed a little drunk, but Stacey seemed fine.