TITLE    : Jungle Fever Ch. 02
STORYID  : jungle-fever-ch-02
SUMMARY  : The end of the Safari, but not the adventure.
AUTHOR   : Ephesus14@lit
DATE     : 2018-09-01
CATEGORY : loving-wives
FLAGS    : h
TAGS     : |cheating wife|cheating wifes|wife|husband|


This will make more sense if you read Jungle fever first. 



Kudos to Flavian who takes thoughts and makes them readable.



Just like several years into most marriages, this story doesn't have much sex.



*****



Jungle Fever, Ch. 2 ---The end of the Safari, but not the adventure



As soon as Eric and his best friend, Sam, left for the airport, the rest of the group let out a big cheer. The party/orgy was on. They didn't even pretend that there would be a Safari that morning. It was time to fuck ... again. Last evening, Eric and Sam had chosen not to go on Safari so the group had loaded into the Rover and, laughing, touching, and feeling, went straight to a hut the lodge maintained for the privacy of selected guests.



There was something about this country that seemed to bring out the deepest primal sexual urges of this group. Jessica (Jess), Eric's wife, had never considered cheating on her husband; but, within a few days of arriving here, she had exposed her body to their ranger, Janco, and other members of the group at a waterfall. And, two days before, she had fucked Janco. Well, in all honesty, they had started fucking, but had been interrupted in mid-fuck and never finished; but, it was enough of a start to make her want more. But, the best was yesterday; the group, absent Janco, Eric, and Sam, had held a sex party/orgy and Jess had fucked Dawie, Keith, and Werner. She had also tasted her first pussy and experienced multiple dicks at the same time. With encouragement from her best friend, Julie, and Werner's wife, Heidi, she had taken Werner in her ass, Dawie in her pussy, and Keith in her mouth.



She had always liked sex, but being what Heidi had called luftdicht (airtight) was an amazing experience. With three dicks pounding her, she barely had the presence of mind to ask herself if Eric would ever agree to a sexual escapade like this; to which she immediately answered, 'No fucking way'.



Julie was next. After seeing her best friend filled to overflowing with cock, she wanted to try it. Her reaction was the same as Jess. Pure, unadulterated lust. Werner's was the last of the three dicks in her and, when he starting fucking her mouth as the other two fucked her ass and pussy, her eyes rolled up and she passed out for a couple of seconds. 'Please, God, don't let this feeling end', she thought.



And that morning promised to be even better than the evening before. Eric and Sam would be gone for at least six hours and the first thing Jess wanted was to be airtight again.



She had given the situation a lot of thought and still couldn't explain why she felt the way she felt and did the things she did ... all behind Eric's back. Janco was the catalyst for the group. His powerful personality and sense of authority seemed to control all of them except Eric and Sam. And he somehow managed to know that the savage nature of the country, coupled with the real danger that surrounded them in the guise of the wild animals, not to mention the secret desires of a lot of white women to sample black cock just once in their lives, worked together to bring deep-seated lust to the surface with this group.



Five of them were friends who came to South Africa on vacation: Eric; his wife, Jess; his best friend, Sam; Sam's brother, Keith; and Jess's best friend, Julie. When they arrived, they met the German couple, Werner and Heidi. The group coalesced in a remarkably short time, thanks again to Janco, the Black African Ranger, and, to a lesser degree, Dawie, their other Ranger.



------------------------



So, Eric and Sam had left for the airport. They were just barely out of sight when the rest of the group, sans Janco -- who, they assumed, had, as he said he would, left the evening before for Johannesburg -- got into their Rover and headed for the 'party hut', as they now called it.



Jess was the first to get inside the hut and she was naked almost before all of the others were in. The first of the men to get naked was Werner ... and only because Jess helped him. She immediately went down on her knees and sucked his dick into her mouth. His wife, Heidi, laughed and reached for Keith and, in her broken English, told him to, 'Fuck, please, my excited pussy and make it pleasure'. Keith, being a man who aimed to please, did exactly that.



That left Julie and Dawie, who, likewise, wasted no time in getting busy. Julie was on all fours while Dawie plowed her from behind. From their position, they were able to watch the other two couples. It was exciting for Julie, but Dawie had seen it all before. He and Janco had fucked many women from many countries, separately and in groups. The two Rangers seemed to prefer the Brits, who, despite their reputation for being reserved, tended to be the hottest, most curious, and most sexually adventurous of all of the Lodge guests.



Six naked people. Three couples engaging in sex in its most basic form; fucking and blow jobs. During the course of several hours, the three women had fucked and sucked all three of the men, and vice versa; and the three men had tasted the pussies of the three women ... as had the three women.



Neither Jess nor Julie had tasted pussy before coming to South Africa, but that had changed the day before. It had changed for Jess when Julie was being fucked by the three men. She and Heidi were watching and touching themselves, when Heidi had reached over and moved Jess's hand and replaced it with her own. Jess had taken the hint and followed suit. Within minutes, Jess had found herself with her tongue in Heidi and Heidi screaming about 'Tongue of Jessica so long and soft'.



By mid-afternoon, the six tired people were in the Rover headed back to the lodge. Jess wanted to shower before Eric got back from the airport. She had already given her body a cursory check for hickeys or other marks. She was hoping he would be too tired for sex that night. She didn't know if she could handle any more dicks for a while. She knew that there would possibly be one more orgy/party before they left on Wednesday and she was looking forward to a full session with Janco.



By dinner time, she was showered and sitting with the group in the Boma, talking and laughing about their day and bemoaning the fact that it had to end. Eric and Sam still had not returned, so dinner was served without them.



About halfway through dinner, one of the owners of the lodge sat at their table and asked when the last time they had seen Janco had been. Jess was probably the last, and that had been the day before. They had been fucking and were interrupted because one of the lodge Rovers had broken down and he'd had to go get it. No one had seen him since. Besides, he told everyone that he was going to Johannesburg and would be back Monday. The consensus was that he was in J-Burg.



The owner then told them that another Ranger had gone to show his guests the lion cubs. When they arrived, he found pieces of what looked like a human body with bits of green cloth attached to it. There was also a shoe of the same type that Lodge Rangers wore. Additionally, Janco's car was still in the employees' compound and all of his personal items were still in his hut. It was all very strange and they were concerned. They had checked with the other Lodges in the area and all their personnel were accounted for.



They knew he was going to drive to the airport and fly to J-burg, so they called the only airline that serviced the area to see if he had flown with them. They were told that he had a ticket, but had been a 'no show' for the flight. But they did mention that two of the Lodge guests had flown to J-burg this morning.



"We had no one scheduled to leave today, so we asked them who it was," said the owner. "They told us that the two were Eric Gardner and Sam Hansen. Do you know anything about that?" he asked Jess.



"No," she answered, suddenly feeling a sense of dread. "They were going to pick up Sam's wife, Marissa. She was flying in today."



"No one on any flight today was scheduled to come here," the Lodge owner said, furrowing his brow in a look of curiosity.



Jess gasped and turned ashen. The rest of the group looked at her. "Oh, my God," she said. "Eric knew. He found out somehow!"



She jumped up and rushed to their tent without waiting for the required escort. No one was supposed to move between the tents and the administration area without benefit of an escort. She ran into the tent and looked around. Most of his clothes were still there, but his personal stuff was gone. She looked in the safe. Everything of his was gone, including his passport, airplane ticket, and some of their cash. Her passport and ticket were still there. Virtually all of the clothing they had brought with them was bought specifically for the trip with the intention of leaving it, because they would never wear it again.



Jess plopped down on the bed and started sobbing. 'He's gone,' she thought. 'He must have found out about Janco and the rest.'



At that point, Keith burst into the tent. "All of Sam's gear is gone. All of it!" he almost yelled.



"Same with Eric. What am I going to do?" she wailed.



In the meantime, in J-burg, the South African Airways wide-bodied jet was taxiing for takeoff for its 16-hour flight to Washington, D.C. Its first stop would be in Dakar, Senegal, in about eight hours to refuel. Eric Gardner and Sam Hansen sat onboard; each buried in his own thoughts. Eric was trying to figure out what had happened to Jess in the last two weeks, and whether she had done anything like this before. He was heartbroken and guilt was trying to rear its ugly head. Maybe he should have stayed and talked with her.



But then he thought, 'There is nothing to talk about. She cheated. End of marriage ... end of story'.



He sat back and closed his eyes. Colorado was a long way off.



------------------------



Jess sat in the administration center surrounded by the group. The joy and upbeat feeling of a couple of hours ago now gone.



The same owner who had talked to them before was talking again. "We have just confirmed that Eric and Sam are on the flight back to the U.S."



Jess broke down and started crying again. Julie tried to console her, but to no avail. Jess was devastated. What was she going to do?



The owner continued, this time with an expression of sadness mixed with regret and curiosity. "We have also confirmed that the body that was found today is Janco's. We do not know how he got there or what he was doing, but it is he."



The group eventually dispersed until it was only Jess and Julie. But, even with Julie there, Jess was more alone than she had been in years. The noises of the jungle that she had found so sensual before now frightened her. She wouldn't be able to talk to Eric for at least 15 more hours because he will be in the air; if he would talk to her at all. Maybe she should wait until she knew he was home.



Wisely, Julie just sat with her and held her hand. Finally, Jess spoke. "I have to get home. I have to talk to Eric."



"Okay. We can change our tickets and leave tomorrow night," said Julie.



"You don't have to go."



"We've been best friends since we were six. I'm not letting you do this alone." They hugged. They retrieved their tickets from their tents and met in the administration center where the person on duty helped them get their tickets changed. They would leave J-burg the next evening at 6:30.



The next morning at breakfast, they told the group of their decision.



The others didn't think it was in good taste for them to mention that Keith had chosen to stay and would be moving in with Werner and Heidi to continue their party. They hoped that Dawie would join them on occasion; so, Heidi was going to be a busy girl until they all left on Wednesday.



------------------------



Eric



Thirty hours after leaving Johannesburg, the Airport Shuttle dropped me off in front of my house. Sam and I had split up at Dulles; with Sam going home to St. Louis and me flying on to Denver. Sam had been transferred to St. Louis almost two years ago. He and Marissa missed Colorado.



I took my small bag inside. First, sleep; then, decide what to do. It was dusk when I woke up. There was nothing in the house to eat, so I went to The Red Zone at the Pumphouse Brewery for a steak sandwich and beer. American Beef sounded really good after all the African game I had been eating for almost two weeks.



As I waited for my food, I made some decisions. Cheating was inexcusable, so divorce was a given. The house had belonged to Jess's family, so it was hers.



As I saw it, when she discovered I was gone, she had a couple of options. She could fly home or stay and party with her orgy group ... without Janco ... I had made sure of that. If she decided to come home, she was probably already in the air and would get home tomorrow afternoon. The plane would land at Dulles around 6:30 in the morning Eastern Time, which was 4:30 my time.



But, she might take option number two and stay in Africa and party with her group of fuck buddies. In which case, I had a few days in which to find a place to live. I wasn't going to take any chances, so I called my parents.



"Well, hello. Your mother and I thought you were still in Africa." So I told my father the story. Needless to say, he was both upset with Jess and sympathetic with my situation.



Dad sighed loudly at last, and asked, "So. What are your plans?"



I answered somberly, "I thought I'd bring my stuff to your place temporarily, if that's okay."



I could feel Dad's smile through the phone. He said, "Of course, it's okay. Do you need help?"



"I don't think so," I replied, "I can put it all in my truck and a small trailer and bring it up tomorrow."



"We'll be here, Son," he said as the call concluded.



I packed everything I wanted and put a lot of it in my truck.



At five in the morning, my phone rang. I turned it off.



By nine a.m., I had rented a trailer and loaded the rest of my belongings. Soon after that, I was on my way to Estes Park and my parents' house. They listened in disbelief as I told my tale of woe in painful detail.



When I thought Jess might be on a plane to Denver, I turned my phone on. She had left four messages and had sent seven texts. All of them basically the same. 'Talk to me, please'.



At 12:45 p.m., it rang. It was Jess; and I answered it.



"What do you want, Jessica?" I asked with a big sigh of resignation. I know that she could hear it in my voice and my attitude.



"Eric, please, listen to me. I couldn't help myself. It was that fucking country. It just seduced me," said Jess, with that tearful, crying conversational tone that women use in an attempt to convey that something that had happened that clearly was their fault ... was not their fault. Right!



"It wasn't the country that was fucking, Jessica. It was you," I said matter-of-factly. I just did not have the energy at this point for any emotional expenditures on anger. I had also reverted to calling her by her full name, rather than the loving short form, that I had used all during the time of our loving relationship.



"Eric ... I."



"How many people did you have, Jessica? How many times did you fuck?" I still did not convey anger. I simply wanted her to realize the enormity of her choosing to consider cheating, and then carrying out her adulterous indiscretion.



"Eric ..." she moaned into the phone.



"How ... many?" I said insistently, not wanting to let her off the hook. After all, she was the one who called me. I was not about to let her set the agenda for the conversation.



"One was too many," she finally admitted, followed by a sigh.



"You are absolutely right about that ... but how many times did you fuck?" I really wanted her to feel my pain, but I still maintained my monotone.



Silence. So, I prompted, "Too many to count? Is that it?" 



"Eric, I am so sorry," she said softly, and I could hear her sniffle.



Strangely, despite our years together, my heart, at this point, was a bit harder than I would have expected before all of this had happened; and I simply told her, "I have moved out of the house; and, as far as I'm concerned, I'd be happy never to see you again. When I find an attorney, I'll have whoever it is get in touch with you and make arrangements for the divorce."



"Oh, God, Eric, don't, please. Let's talk. Please." I could hear her begin to sob as she finished saying this.



"Talk? You can't even tell me how many men you fucked or how many times. My God, Jessica, how could you ever expect me to get past something like that? You fucked at least four different men in Africa. Four! And God only knows how many times each of them fucked you. You may have even had more than one at a time. Did you? Did you have more than one dick at a time, Jess?"



Silence.



"God damn it, Jessica; answer me. Did more than one guy fuck you at the same time?"



A very quiet 'yes' came over the phone.



"Did you like it?" I asked with obvious scorn in my voice.



"Eric, please," begged my obviously forlorn soon-to-be ex-wife.



"Did ... you ... fucking ... like ... it?" I insisted



Another very quiet 'yes'.



"I hate what you've done to us, Jessica. Goodbye."



"Wait. Eric. Wait. Please!"



The phone was dead.



------------------------



I was sitting on the deck that evening with my mother when Jess pulled in the driveway. My father was at the car before she could get out. They talked and she started crying and finally left. Over the next couple of days, she tried three more times to see me; and she tried at least a dozen times to talk to me -- all to no avail.



------------------------



I didn't know any attorneys, so went looking for one. I also spent time in Longmont looking for an apartment before finding one that I liked.



Two of the Attorneys I talked to were acquainted with Jess's parents, so I eliminated them. It was the fourth one I spoke to whom I hired. Donald Flynn hated divorce cases and loathed taking them, but was intrigued by my story.



"So, she's blaming it on Africa?" he asked.



"Apparently. She said it was something about the country that fascinated her," I answered with a derisive snort.



Donald Flynn, esquire, swiveled his chair ninety degrees from me, put his hands together in front of him, and steepled his finders as he thought about that for a handful of seconds before turning back to face me and continuing.



"In my experience, people who cheat come up with some pretty outlandish justifications."



"I want the reason for the divorce to be adultery."



Donald frowned slightly, and then said, in soft attempt a preparing me for the sad news, "That's going to be almost impossible. No audio, video, or corroboration; it's going to be 'He said; She said'."



I simply shrugged and replied, "That's okay. I am willing to tell my story in court and let the justice system decide who's telling the truth."



Donald paused as he thought about it and studied the determined look on my face. Then he nodded, and we were off and running.



------------------------



So it was started. I was back in my office in Denver at the advertising agency for which I worked. Everybody was surprised that I was back early. I spent most of the morning either cleaning up the work that had accumulated on my desk while I was gone or fending off questions about Africa and my trip.



During lunch hour, Sam called.



"How're you holding up?" he asked.



"I'm doing okay, I guess," I said resignedly.



Sam was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Keith called."



"I don't want to hear it, Sam." I was suddenly sitting up straight and was speaking very firmly into the phone. I did not want to get too loud and give the office gossips anything to feed their need to chatter.



"He's still there and will be until Wednesday," said Sam, despite my admonition that I did not care to talk about Sam's slime ball brother. "He's feeling pretty remorseful and wants to know if there is any way he can make it up to you."

<hr pg="2" />"He fucked my wife, Sam," I said simply, as if that said all that was necessary about the situation. "I don't know how he can fix that."



"I understand, Eric; honestly, I do. I don't like what he did, but he's my brother and I love him. I just hope it doesn't affect the relationship you and I have." Sam and I had been friends for a long time -- almost our whole lives; and I had thought that his brother, Keith, was my friend too ... until he had plunged his dick inside my wife's pussy; and, thereby, had plunged a knife into my back, figuratively.



"Sam, I am sorry; but, I'm afraid that it does affect our relationship. I never want to see him again, so that means I won't be going to birthday parties or Christmas gatherings with your family like I've done for 25 years."



"Marissa and I have talked about things like that," said Sam hopefully, "Maybe we can work something out."



"I doubt it." I answered sadly. "Your family isn't going to change just for me ... and I wouldn't expect them to. It's just another consequence of this whole fucking mess."



"Well, Marissa and I will try and not let it affect the three of us," said Sam in resignation. "Oh, by the way, Keith told me that Janco was killed by lions. Apparently, it happens often enough that there is not much concern. Anyway, they don't know why he was out where the lions were; and without his gun."



"Serves the bastard right," I said to my friend as my mind recalled the image in the rear view mirror of the Land Rover of two lionesses taking Janco down. That had been just a moment after he had screamed at me with a look combining his sudden realization of what I was doing, with terror at facing death, and then resigned hatred toward me as his nemesis, as I accelerated the Land Rover and pulled away from him. Yes, I had deliberately, cold-bloodedly and with malice aforethought, left the bastard who had cuckolded me to suffer death on the veldt at the hand of nature.



Sam and I talked for several more minutes and I told him that I had initiated divorce proceedings, that I had a new apartment, and that I had talked with Jessica; along with a host of other stuff.



------------------------



On Friday, Jessica was served at home and she called me. I took the call. "Eric, can't we work past this? It was just a couple of days; and I regret them more than I can say."



I still maintained control of my anger, and said tonelessly, "Jessica, you lied to me and deliberately planned to fuck that bastard, Janco. Then, you lied again so you could go wild and party, having multiple sex partners with the others. That is cheating -- pure and simple -- and is inexcusable."



I paused to steady my voice as I continued. "I did nothing to cause you to cheat and I didn't deserve being made into a cuckold. You blamed it on Africa and not your own lusts. Had it been a spur-of-the-moment lapse with Janco, or had one of the other men forced you, it may have been different and we might have been able to work through it ... but, it wasn't. You caught Jungle Fever and acted on it; and it has cost our marriage."



"Give me a chance, Eric. Please?" begged Jessica.



"No chance in hell, Jessica; at least, not in this lifetime. Oh, by the way, Sam told me about Janco and the lions. I only wish that I had been there to see it. I would have cheered for the lions." I hoped that she could hear the satisfaction and ghoulish glee that I was trying to convey in my reply.



Then, I really poured the guilt on her as heavily as I could.



"But, you will always have the memory that you were probably the last piece of ass he had ... even if you didn't get to finish fucking him. Don't call me again."



I smiled when I ended the call. That had felt good! But, then it didn't, and I had to fight off the urge to shed tears over my lost marriage, and the idea that I had wasted those years with Jessica.



------------------------



Jessica took a sharp intake of breath. Not at his refusal to give her a second chance; she had expected that as a possibility; but only she, Janco, and the man who had interrupted her fuck session with Janco had known that they had never finished ...



But Eric knew!



'Oh, my God. He must have seen us', she thought. 'But, how? It was a one-room tent. Maybe he heard us. In either case, since Eric knows that, I don't have a prayer; and I am truly screwed.'



------------------------



Jess had resigned herself to her fate. She signed the papers and returned them. The same day she returned them, her phone rang.



"Hello?"



"Hi, Jess. It's Keith," came the now-familiar voice of one of her lovers from her African adventure.



"Oh! Hi." Jessica tried to be neutral in her response, but she could not help remembering just how exciting it had been to be fucking Keith ... as well as the others ... in her first ever excursion into adultery; and in multi-partner sex especially. She could not help the spasm deep inside her pussy as her body and mind recalled those thrills of the recent past.



"Sam told me that you and Eric are getting a divorce." Keith's rising inflection as the sentence came out made it sound more like a question than a mere statement of fact.



"So it seems." Jessica could not hide the sound of wistfulness in her voice as she conceded to the facts of her new life, all the while staring across the den at a picture of her and Eric from the happy times before all of this mess.



"Well, I was wondering how your life was going and if maybe you might be interested in seeing me again; and ... I don't know ... maybe ... playing around some more?" he asked



"I'm in Colorado and you're in Texas. How will that work?" Jessica asked



'Shit', she thought, 'Why do I have to carry on like a nun? I mean, I've lost Eric, it would seem; and I am still young; and I DO have needs.'



"Oh, not with me ...," answered Keith, "at least, not right now; but I have a couple of friends who are coming up your way on business and I thought you might like to make a few extra bucks."



She thought for a second and began to get angry just before answering. "Are you trying to pimp me out, Keith? Am I now a whore in your eyes?"



"No, Jess ... I just thought you might enjoy ..." Then he paused, evidently searching for the right words to use to convince Jessica to agree to what he was proposing.



"Another gangbang?" Jessica finished for him with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.



Keith attempted to lighten this turn of the conversation with a deprecating chuckle before continuing. "Well, if I remember correctly, you did enjoy those you had in Africa, and I just thought ..." Then, he just let that hang as he awaited Jessica's answer. 



Jessica suddenly executed a huge mental shrug and crossed the room to turn the picture of her and Eric together face down on the shelf. Then she sighed and actually surprised Keith a bit with her response.



"How much money?"



------------------------



My life was going along a day at a time. It would still be some time before the divorce would be final and I was working on re-invigorating my social life. I never enjoyed the 'bar scene' and none of the women in the office interested me, even though a couple of them had hinted that they might be inclined to accept an offer of a date, once the word had begun to circulate that I would soon be divorced and back on the market, so to speak.



I decided to put my personal information on one of those online dating sites. I signed up and posted 'all about me' on the site and, within three days, I had received over a dozen responses, of which I was able to reduce to three possibilities.



The first one was a widow whose husband had been killed when the US Air Force jet he was flying had crashed in a training exercise. She was living near Trinidad, Colorado. Her name was Cynthia McGuire. We corresponded for a couple of weeks before I asked her to dinner. She accepted and, on a Saturday afternoon, I made the four-hour drive. We met at one of the two really good steakhouses in Trinidad. I liked her immediately when she suggested one of them instead of one of the health food places like the ones that seem to have proliferated in Boulder.



It was a very nice evening in Trinidad and Cynthia was both attractive and pleasant. We decided to spend the next day together. I picked her up at her house and we went for a drive up to Stonewall and across the mountains to Walsenburg, where we had lunch before returning to Trinidad.



I drove home later wondering whether I should even bother with the other two possibilities; but I did. Dates with both of them proved underwhelming, so I called Cynthia and made a second date. Then a third, and fourth, and fifth. The fifth date was special because we got naked and had sex.



She told me I was her first since her husband had died and, of course, she was my first since Africa. I was never much of an anal sex devotee, but she certainly was, and she tried very hard to convert me; while I tried very hard to fuck her senseless. Neither of us totally succeeded in our individual quests. The only downside of the evening was the fact that not only did she assert that she had never given a blowjob, but she claimed never to have had any part of a dick in her mouth ... and never would.



"I'm pretty picky about what I put in my mouth," She had said. That wasn't necessarily a deal breaker, but I did enjoy getting blowjobs. 



The following week, we had another date scheduled; so, I drove back to Trinidad. I rang the doorbell and she opened the door still tying the belt of her bathrobe, while trying to straighten her obviously tousled hair. She had a surprised look on her face when she realized that I was the one at her door.



"Oh, Eric; didn't you get my text?" she asked, with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. "An old friend of mine came to town this week and I've been spending time with him." I saw movement inside and looked over her shoulder in time to see a man naked, except for a towel around his waist, walk over and sit on the sofa.



I left without saying a word and headed home. But before driving off, I took a quick look at my phone. There was no text. 



My phone rang before I had driven three blocks. It was Cynthia.



"Hello?"



"Eric," Cynthia said immediately upon hearing my voice, "I am so sorry about the mix-up, Jonathan has been ..."



I interrupted her. "Don't worry about it. It's okay. You don't owe me any explanations. Enjoy yourself."



"Call me later?" she asked somewhat timidly after a moment's pause.



"No, I don't think so. Goodbye, Cynthia." I hit the red button and sighed as I put down my cell phone and headed for Longmont.



------------------------



I was almost home and driving by the Ford dealership. I have no idea why I turned in, but I did. 



Two hours later, I left in a brand new Mustang. I had never driven; much less owned a Mustang. Plus, I had never bought a car on 'impulse' and Mustang's just weren't 'me', but there was something about the growl this one made that tripped my trigger. There might be something Freudian about the Mustang growl and the sound lions make; but, if there is, I'm not smart enough to figure it out. Anyway, I was drawn to the car by its looks and sound, but it didn't take long for its handling to win me over.



There is a particularly curvy road near Longmont named Left Hand Canyon Road. I found myself driving up and down that road and having a ball.



I spent Sunday putting miles on the Mustang and working on my driving skills. It was a fun day and I was back on Left Hand Canyon Road. There is a small, curvy, very steep dirt road named 'Lickskillet' off of Left Hand Canyon that takes you to Gold Hill, Colorado. I turned onto Lickskillet and headed up the hill. The Mustang made short shrift of that steep, dirt road and I had a huge smile on my face as I topped the hill.



The trip down was almost as much fun as the trip up. I was quickly becoming a Mustang fan.



------------------------



I was at the car wash a little later washing the Lickskillet dust off my car when a bright red Mazda Miata convertible pulled in. I just looked at it as the driver climbed out. She was a real looker; and the daisy duke shorts, tight blouse, and no bra didn't hurt.



"Hello, Eric," she said as she saw me. Yeah, it was Julie ... THAT Julie ... the long-time best friend of my soon-to-be ex-wife, Jessica.



"Hello, Julie. Still driving that piece of shit, I see," I answered, trying to remain aloof from one of the targets of my disdain following the abortive trip to South Africa. But I found it hard not to be casting an appreciative look at what she was showing the world. I always loved the way her nipples tried to poke holes in whatever she wore.



She walked over to me and looked at the Mustang appreciatively. "Yep. And it looks like you've 'upped' your image. I was driving by and saw you. Couldn't believe you had a Mustang, so I thought I'd check it out."



"What are you doing, trolling for dicks? Didn't you get enough in Africa?" I was being deliberately harsh toward her because I was pissed about her role in the destruction of my marriage to the woman who had been her best friend for as long as I had known Jessica.



Julie just grinned at me seductively, blowing off any consideration that I was being mean. She and I had fenced verbally before, and in a racy manner at that. "I wouldn't turn down a good one; so, if you happen to see one, point it in my direction." And she made a point of sticking her ass out as she shifted her weight to one side while maintaining a challenging direct eye contact with me.



"Africa really changed you," I said, shaking my head, "I never would have believed you would say something like that."



"And I would never have believed that you would talk to me like you just did," Julie answered, now with more of a stern expression.



"That's because I've lost all respect for you, Julie," I said disgustedly, my volume increasing a bit.



"Why? Because I had a little fun?" asked Julie, still challenging me.



"A little fun? You fucked at least four guys and had multiple dicks in you at the same time." I was guessing about that, but I figured, if Jessica did, so did Julie. "And you encouraged your best friend ... and MY WIFE ... to cheat on her husband."



"Get real, Eric," said Julie as she waved her hand as if it were all no big deal, and I should just 'put on my big-boy pants' and accept it. "She was going to do it anyway. As for me, I just saw it as a chance to have some fun."



"Was it?" I asked.



"My, God, yes! It was incredible. Actually, I tried to talk Jess into getting you involved, but she wouldn't. You would have had fun, too. Heidi is a fantastic piece of ass, from what the guys said ... and I'm certainly not chopped liver."



"Not interested, thank you." I was not about to concede that she really was not only NOT chopped liver; but, she qualified as Prime Beef under other circumstances.



"Not even now that you are getting divorced?" she asked with a slight upturn to the corners of her mouth.



"Julie, I used to see you dressed like you are now, with those tight shorts and no bra; and I'd go home and fuck Jess senseless. I loved seeing your nipples get hard and stick out. You were good for our sex lives. But knowing you gangbanged four men and watched my wife do the same makes both of you nothing but sluts. You're not even whores ... unless they paid you." I was being deliberately abusive at this point, I know.



But Julie fired right back. "Oh, we got paid all right; only they paid us in inches; not Rands or Dollars. Lots of inches." She laughed. I shook my head and returned my attention to the Mustang.



"Come on, Eric. Get off your high horse. So we fucked around a little. Big deal. Nobody got hurt and we had some kicks. Jess still loves you and, if anything, will be a better lover for you."



I had almost ... almost ... forgotten that I had the high pressure sprayer in my hand when I turned back to her. When the pressurized, soapy hot water hit her chest, it had to sting like hell. She screamed and charged at me.



"You fucking bastard," she yelled as she took a swing at me ... and missed; but slipped in the soapy water on the ground and fell on her perfect little ass.



"Go home and take a cold shower," I told her, all while trying to hold back my laughter. "You might be able to wash some of the slut off."



Julie just sat in the soapy water with her legs spread looking up at me as I continued. "And you can tell your best friend that a little soap and water wouldn't hurt her either." I returned to my car. Just a few seconds later, I learned that even a sorry-assed Miata could spin its tires ... on wet pavement.



Almost immediately, I heard a voice from behind me. "I can have her arrested for assault, if you want me to."



I turned to the voice and, in my still simmering anger, this time, I did forget that I had the spray gun in my hand; but the blonde behind the voice was quick and avoided the spray.



"Oh, shit, sorry," I managed to say while looking ... okay, leering is more like what I was doing ... at one very attractive female-type lady person.



"I'm sorry. What did you say?" I finally stammered out.



"I said I can have her arrested for assault if you want me to," she said, smiling a bit teasingly.



"What are you? A cop?"



"As a matter of fact, yes." She paused here and then continued, and I saw her take a swing at you. I almost butted in; but, when I saw her fall on her ass, I decided to stand here and watch."



"Nah, leave her alone," I said, smiling now myself, "She's not worth it."



She walked up to me and stuck her hand out. "Pat Leigh," she said with an expectant expression.



"Eric Gardner," I said, still smiling as I returned her handshake; one that was very strong, considering the very feminine shape of her hand ... and everything else about her.



"Nice car. You wouldn't happen to have just bought it yesterday, would you?" she asked as she began to stroll slowly around the Mustang, giving it a close-up personal appraisal.



"As a matter of fact I did," I answered.



"I thought so," she said, still looking at the car and not at me.



"Why?" I asked after about two seconds of confusion at her comment.



"Because I had looked at it two days ago and went back yesterday and it was gone," she said, now with a bit of a wistful look.



"Well, I'd like to say I'm sorry, but that wouldn't be the truth," I confessed.



She laughed. "Could I ask you a question?"



"Sure." I looked at my car and the soap was starting to dry on it, so I started spraying it again.



"I overheard most of the conversation you had with Little Miss Soapy Ass. Was all that true?"



I chuckled. "Unfortunately, yes."



"And it was it really in Africa?" she asked.



"Yes, again." I focused now on a couple of sets of smashed bug entrails on the grill.



"That must have been one hell of a trip," she continued, and I realized that she was attempting to draw me out for some reason.



I tried to shut down this line of conversation gently. "Yeah, it was. One that I don't care to either remember or repeat."



"When did all this happen?" She obviously missed my saying that I did not care to repeat the details; and, by inference, this was not something that I really wanted to discuss; especially with a stranger ... regardless of how attractive she was.



"About a month ago," I said, despite my intention not to go on.



"Not to get personal, but would you care to talk about it? I mean, if it isn't too soon," she said, now showing an expression of true concern on her face.



I thought about her combination request and offer for about fifteen seconds as I finished hosing down the hood. "I'm not sure. It's still pretty raw, as you could probably tell by the conversation you heard."



"I understand. Listen; here's my card," she said as she wrote her cell number on it. Call me sometime if you feel like talking; or if you just feel like calling. Either works for me."

<hr pg="3" />I took the card; but, given the nature of my difficulties recently, I was suddenly rather guarded. "Sure. Uh, is there a Mr. Leigh I should be worrying about?"



She just grinned and shook her head and said with a giggle, "Yeah, but don't worry about him. He likes watching me with multiple partners!"



My mouth dropped and my eyes opened to the size of dinner plates as her card fell from my hands and floated to the soapy, wet ground.



She started laughing as she reached in her shirt pocket for another card and, again, wrote her number on it. "I'm sorry, Eric Gardner. It was only a joke; and, given what you have been through, it was in horribly bad taste ... but almost worth it to see the reaction on your face.



"There is no Mr. Leigh. Here. Take this." And she handed me the card. "Don't drop this one." She picked up the dropped card and she was crumbling it into a small ball as she walked away.



I was still looking at her card -- so, she was a police officer -- when I heard the growl of what could only be another Mustang. I didn't know one model year from another, but the Mustang that ripped out onto the street was certainly not a recent one.



------------------------



Less than an hour later, Jessica called. I sighed and answered.



"Julie said you had a new car," she said, opening the conversation.



"Julie has a big mouth," I snarled.



There was quiet on the connection for a few seconds, and then, "Eric, can we talk?"



"What about?" I asked, being deliberately obtuse.



"Us," said Jessica.



"There is no us, Jessica. There is you, there is me, and there are the at least four guys who fucked you while you were married to me," I reminded her.



"I'm still married to you," she insisted.



"For another couple of months," I conceded, "Then you can legally have dicks in every orifice of your body. Hell, you can have them in your ears for all I care."



"Eric. Please. I will do anything to stop the divorce. I love you and I promise never, ever to cheat again," she stated emphatically; as if that were all it would take for me to forget what had happened in South Africa.



"You'll do anything?" I asked.



"Oh, God, yes. Anything," she said, trying to keep her hopes alive.



"Okay. Answer some questions, honestly," I said.



"Okay."



"How many men besides me have you fucked since we've been married?" I asked matter-of-factly, and without any hint of rancor in my voice.



"Four," she answered without hesitation.



"Did you enjoy fucking them?" I asked.



"Uh ... yes." She obviously had been coached by someone to try to be absolutely honest with me in all future conversations if there were to be any hope of reconciliation; I was betting that it was Julie. Hell, I would not have been surprised if Julie were right there with markers and cue cards.



"How many of them did you give blow jobs to?" I asked, attempting to embarrass her by demanding details.



"Please, Eric ..." she said, trying to maintain a little dignity, I guess.



"Good bye, Jessica," I said, still without rancor or irritation in my voice.



"Oh, God, no, wait ... All of them!" she almost shouted, all in an attempt to keep the conversation going, even if she had to figuratively prostrate herself before me.



"How many of them came in your mouth?" I was pressing on a critical button on this one, as Jessica had never been too pleased by my requests for blowjobs and had only given them with an attitude of resistance.



Pause.



"Jessica, I will not repeat any of my questions, and I will end the call if you hesitate," I insisted quietly.



"Okay. Okay. Three of them," she said, and I could hear what sounded like a gasp or a sob as she realized that she was confessing that she had had no hesitation in fellating all those guys, while resisting me in all our time together. I guessed it was only three because she never had a chance to finish with Janco; either a blow job or fucking him.



"Did you swallow?" I pushed cruelly.



"Yes," she answered mournfully, now apparently beginning to lose hope,



"How many?" I asked resolutely.



"All of them," she said, now more steadily, sniffing at the end.



"Did you like it?" I asked.



"Yes," she confessed, her voice sounding now as if were coming from her tomb.



"This is the last question. If the answer is yes, I will stop the divorce. Can you un-fuck them and take from my mind the pictures I have of you fucking them?"



Silence. Then she spoke, almost in a whisper. "No, I can't."



"Good bye, Jessica. Don't call me again." I broke the connection before she could try to say anything else, and then I turned my phone off.



------------------------



I waited two more days before calling Officer Patricia (Pat) Leigh, the name indicated on the card she had given me.



"Hello?"



"Hi, this is Eric Gardner."



"Hi, Eric. How's our car?" She asked, and I could detect her smile, even over the phone.



"Not bad. As a matter of fact, we were discussing asking you if you were interested in going for a ride in it Saturday," I ventured, my own smile probably just as discernable to her.



"Sounds like a plan, as long as I'm back by two," she said.



"Why? Have another date?" I asked.



"Yep. With my uniform and a patrol car. I'm on duty from 3 to 11," she said, this time in a no-nonsense tone.



We chatted for another few minutes before ending. The rest of the week sailed by and at ten on Saturday, I picked her up at her house.



"Any idea where you would like to go?" I asked, quickly looking her over appreciatively, but not leering or ogling.



"Surprise me; but, remember, I'm always armed," she said and smiled.



I headed up the mountain to Estes Park. We talked like old friends on the way up. Her Mustang had belonged to her father. He had two of them, both 1967 Shelby GT 500s. One was green; the other white. He gave her the green one. She sounded like it was a pretty big deal; but having only recently become a Mustang owner, it didn't mean much to me.



There are some good restaurants in Estes and several of them have outside dining. We found one, ordered our meal, and, while we ate, talked. After about half an hour, she asked me about my least favorite topic.



"Can you talk about Africa?" she asked.



"I'll try," I said resignedly.



I started with our arrival in the country and ended with my confrontation with Julie which she had seen. I even told her that I had heard that Janco had lost a confrontation with lions. The only part of the story I left out was that I was the one who took him to see the lions.



When I finished, she started asking questions. Did I actually see Jessica with Janco or any of the others? Was I jealous? Did it piss me off? How did I feel about Janco? After about a dozen questions, my mind's eye saw me sitting in a chair in the middle of a smoked-filled room with a single bare, bright light bulb hanging over my head and surrounded by police officers shooting questions at me with Officer Patricia Leigh being the principal inquisitor.



The fact of the matter was, I still felt nothing over Janco's death. Nothing. My conscience didn't bother me in the least; but, with each of Pat's questions, I was becoming concerned that our meeting at the carwash had not been coincidental.



I was beginning to feel like I needed a lawyer. She asked me yet another question and I just looked at her and said, "It's time we headed down the mountain or you'll be late for work." There was not much conversation on the way to her house; but, every once in a while, I would glance at her out of the corner of my eye and, each time I did, I caught her looking at me.



We got to her house just as a man in a police uniform was leaving. He locked the front door, saw us, and came over.



"Hi, Sweetie," he said as she stepped out of the car. She didn't give me a chance to come around and open her door for her. "I left your laundry on the bed. I'll see you at Roll Call." Then he waved generally in my direction, got on a police motorcycle, and roared off.



She leaned down into the car and said, "Thank you, Eric. It was a nice day. We should do it again." She had not bothered to introduce me to the other officer or explain why he was putting her laundry on 'the bed'; not that she had too; after all, we barely knew each other.



'We should do it again'? Not bloody likely, I thought. You're a beautiful lady, but I'd be willing to bet that you are a cop first and a lady second. And, at this point, I'd also be willing to bet that you are working with the Nelspruit, South Africa Police Department investigating Janco's death and trying to implicate me. Well, unless you have a warrant for my arrest, I don't ever plan to see you again.



The drive to my apartment was a bit unnerving. The first thing I did when I got home was to look on my computer and see if I could determine if The United States had an Extradition Treaty with South Africa. We did.



Well, fuck!



------------------------



I didn't sleep much that night and my mind kept bouncing between whether I should call Pat and try to get an idea of how much they know, or should I stay as far away from her as I possibly could. I chose to stay away.



Longmont is not a large city and it has a relatively small police force. For the next three days, I tried to look in every police cruiser I saw to see if she were in it ... especially in the evening, because that's when she said she was working. But how the hell did I know for sure? She could be lying and I'd seen enough TV shows to believe, rightly or wrongly, that law enforcement can lie ... okay, maybe not lie, but deceive suspects when questioning them. Those same shows indicate that suspects, on the other hand, are subject to being criminally charged if they are caught lying to law enforcement. Doesn't seem fair to me; but then, I'm not in law enforcement.



I'm neither questioning nor debating my interpretation of these observations; just commenting on them. Like most people, I just want any interaction with law enforcement to be minimal at best.



It had been five days since my perceived interrogation by Officer Leigh and I had questions about her. For example: If she was investigating my involvement, why would she introduce herself to me as a police officer at our initial meeting? Wouldn't it be smarter to figure out another way to meet me and preserve her identity? Another question I had was if, as she said, she wore a uniform and had a cruiser why was she investigating the death of a Ranger in Africa? Didn't detectives do that stuff? I was so confused it gave me a headache. I continued to be concerned about how much might be known about how Janco died. I was pretty sure his death could not be traced to me, but with what I took to be her interrogation of me, I worried that my arrest was a possibility. I kept bouncing from 'they know' to 'they can't possibly know' to 'maybe I should disappear' to 'can't do anything about it now' to 'I'm pretty fucking scared'!



On the other hand, she just may have been curious and I'm paranoid.



During the course of the week, I had seen Jessica and Julie a couple of times around town. Once, Jessica had acted as if she wanted to come over and talk to me, but I saw Julie grab her hand and say something to her. Jessica looked at me, half smiled, and was led away by Julie. Julie stuck her hand in the air and gave me the finger.



On Saturday morning, I was at the best doughnut/coffee shop in town. It is on a corner on Main Street right in the middle of downtown. I was having my favorite chocolate-covered Bavarian crème doughnuts along with some very good coffee. I was sitting by the window and my car was parked right in front. I saw one of Longmont's patrol cars drive slowly by. Pat was driving. It took me another 10 minutes or so to finish. I went outside and got in my car. I looked and saw the patrol car parked at the end of the block.



I pulled out onto the street and, halfway down the block, there was a small alley. So I made a right turn into it, gave the Mustang a little gas, and sped to the next street. I made another right turn, sped again, and made a third right turn, and was now on the same corner the doughnut shop was. I made a left turn this time and headed South on Main Street. I looked in my rearview mirror and the cruiser was gone.



Why did I do all that? Beats the shit out of me. I just didn't want to see her or make some driving error, which might enable her to stop me. Oh, my God. I am becoming so fucking paranoid. I have to get over this. I'm beginning to regret taking Janco out to visit the lions ... no ... I take it back. I don't regret it. The bastard deserved to die.



I remembered listening to him fucking my wife. Then I remembered seeing him trying to outrun the two lionesses and I smiled. That memory alone will get me through any adversity I might face as a result of his death. Fuck the son of a bitch. All of sudden, I felt light as a feather. 'I think I'll drive up Left Hand Canyon Road', I told myself.



------------------------



By four that afternoon, I was back in Longmont and at the carwash, washing more Lickskillet dust off my car. I had been there about ten minutes when the Green Shelby pulled in. She got out and came over. She was still in her uniform.



"Hello, Stranger," she said.



"Hello, Officer."



"Officer? I'm Pat; remember me?"



"The car does look familiar."



"After last week, I thought you might call me. I had fun and I was hoping you did."



I had no idea what to say ... I certainly didn't want to bring up my suspicion that she was treating me like the suspect in a murder case, so I took a different tack. "I guess I got a bit turned off when we got to your house and I saw a man who, by all appearances, lived there, called you 'Sweetie', and said that he had put your laundry on 'the bed'. He didn't say 'his bed' or 'your bed'; he said 'the bed'. I could only take from that he meant the bed the two of you shared.



Then I remembered all of the questions you asked about Africa. They all dealt with how I felt about Janco and others fucking my wife and my feelings about them and the situation. Was I jealous? Did I watch? All those questions led me to believe that you might be interested in doing the same thing. Then your roommate, lover, boyfriend, cuckold, or whatever he is appeared and was so casual about the bed comment. And I remembered the comment you made ostensibly as a joke that Mr. Leigh 'liked watching you with multiple partners'. That's when I decided that I wanted no part in a situation like that." I had to calm myself at that point because my volume level had begun to increase noticeably at the end.



Holy shit! I amazed myself. I had no idea what I was going to say when I started, but it all seemed to come together as I spoke; and it seemed logical. I guess, as they say, the best defense is a good offense.



She stood and looked at me for just a couple of seconds before she exploded. "Why, you conceited, egotistical asshole. How you could ever think that I would want you anywhere near any bed of mine is beyond me. Fuck you!" And she stormed off. The Green Shelby left rubber for half of a block.



I resumed washing my car and realized that she never saw fit to deny anything I said. It was at that point that my fears about being suspected in Janco's death evaporated. It appeared that her only interest in me was 'picking my brain' about how swinging, wife swapping, cheating, or whatever you wanted to call it, worked.



------------------------



I was a pretty happy camper ... for less than 24 hours. The first indication that Officer Patricia Leigh was really pissed came the next afternoon as I pulled into the parking lot at my apartment. I had just turned off the street when I saw blue lights come on in the car behind me. Turns out, it was an unmarked police car and, after checking my license, registration, and insurance, the officer gave me a verbal warning for not signaling far enough in advance of a turn. I'd never heard of that law.



The next day I was on my way to a restaurant for dinner. I had gone less than two blocks from my apartment complex when a police cruiser pulled in behind me. Three blocks later, his blue lights came on. When I pulled over, he, too, had to check my license, registration, and insurance. And he, like the officer the day before, gave me a verbal warning; this time for failing to obey a stop sign. It seems that, when I stopped at the intersection, my front bumper went forward of the line painted on the pavement, which he called the 'stop line' and, if any part of the vehicle goes over that line, you have technically violated the law.



It happened again the next day; only, this time, the officer made a big deal out of the stop. The officer was a 'she' and we were facing each other across an intersection at a stop sign. By now, I had taken the hint that Officer Patricia Leigh was giving me and I made every effort to obey every single law I knew; but, apparently, I was still on her shit list.



As soon as I pulled into the intersection, the cruiser's blue lights came on and she did a U-turn in the intersection and pulled behind me and gave two very short blasts on her siren.



The routine was the same; license, registration and insurance. Then the verbal warning for failing to stop at a stop sign. According to her my tires never completely stopped rolling, so she called it a 'California Stop' and informed me that it was illegal. Within seconds after I was released, I was on the phone.



She answered with a very sweetly sarcastic, "Helllooo."



"How long is it going to go on?"



"As long as you keep breaking traffic laws, I suppose. But I have to tell you that the Police Department is getting tired of your repeated scoffing of our laws and I am informed that Citations are going to be issued from now on." I angrily pushed the red button, cutting off the call.



My next call was to Donald Flynn, my Attorney, and I told him the story and her name. "Why don't I give her a call and see if I can get her to back off?" he asked.



But, I was hot now! "I don't want you to call her. I want her fired. She and the other officers have to be violating some law."



Donald thought for second before he said, "I have an idea. Meet me for drinks in an hour and we'll talk about it. That will give you a chance to calm down a bit."



I said okay.



------------------------



An hour later, we met at a micro-brewery in town and ordered a couple of beers. We were sitting in a booth sipping them. My back was to the door so I couldn't see who was coming in; which is a good thing, because I didn't see her until she walked up and kissed my Attorney on his forehead and said, "Hi, Dad. What's up?"



When she heard me choking, coughing, sputtering, and snorting all at the same time, she turned and saw me. Then she looked back at 'Dad', who was laughing his ass off.



"When did you start hanging out with scofflaws?" she asked him.



"About thirty years ago. I am an attorney, you know." He slid over and patted the seat next to him. "Sit," he commanded. She obeyed.



"Now it all makes sense," Donald said to me. "Only I didn't know it was you she was talking about. She never told me your name. But she told me about this guy she met and felt like she wanted to get to know better; but that he had said some pretty insulting things to her." To her, he said. "My scofflaw client wants to get you fired. Now, what are we going to do to resolve this situation?"



She and I tried to speak at the same time, but he stopped us. "You first, Pat."



"Well, I told you how we met," she said.



Donald nodded and said, "You did. At a carwash, if I recall, and you overheard a conversation he was having with someone you referred to as a slut, and you felt sorry for him, so you butted in."



She was shaking her head slightly as she responded, "I didn't exactly butt in. She was gone by the time I spoke to him."

<hr pg="4" />"But you still felt sorry for him," Donald insisted, as if he were coaching his own witness or else cross-examining one for the other team.



Silence.



Donald did not wait for the answer, but pressed on. "And what did he say that insulted you?"



"It was later. We were on what started as a very nice date and I was asking him some questions for my thesis and he accused me of wanting to know ..."



"Wait a minute." I interrupted. "Your what? Your thesis?"



"Of course, you idiot. Why else would I be asking ..." she said with a scowl.



I interrupted again. "What about that guy at your house?"



"What guy at your house?" asked Dad.



"That was Bob, Dad. He came over to dry his laundry because his dryer was broken," she said.



"Who's Bob?" I asked.



"Her brother," answered Dad ... uh, Donald.



"My brother," Pat said at the same time.



"But he called you 'Sweetie'," I pressed.



"He calls everyone 'Sweetie'. Even his fucking dog ... sorry, Dad." She apologized, but she did not look as if she had really meant it.



I was shaking my head. I looked at Donald ... Dad. "Did you give her that Green Shelby?"



"No. Her father did. He left that one to her and a white one for Bob. I'm their step-father. Have been since after he died fifteen years ago."



I picked up my beer and guzzled it down; called the waitress over, and ordered another.



"May I have one?" asked Pat.



"Don't you have to go on duty?" I responded.



"Not until tomorrow," she answered.



I thought for just a few seconds. "Cancel that order," I said to the waitress. I got up, went to their side of the booth, and grabbed her hand. "Come with me."



She stood. "Where are we going?"



"To the Briarwood for dinner," I answered, turning toward the door.



"Good bye, Dad." She said, stretching to grab her purse and still keep hold of my hand. "I'll call you later. Love you," she said as I half dragged her out the door.



I opened the passenger door for her and, as she got in, I asked, "You're not still armed; are you?"



"I told you before, I'm always armed."



I'm going to have to try and not piss her off anymore, I thought as the Mustang sounded its lion's growl.



------------------------



That night, I saw the bed Bob had referred to ... but I didn't get to use it ... didn't even try. Her house has two bedrooms, but one had been converted to an office/study. Consequently, only one bed; 'the bed'. She had a degree in Criminal Psychology, and she was working on a Master's in Forensic Psychology. Her thesis was on The Psychological Criminality of Multiple Sex Partners in Dedicated Relationships. No wonder she listened to my conversation with Julie.



She never brought the subject of multiple sex partners up again; but I did.



We had been dating for a couple of months. Donald (Dad) Flynn called to tell me my divorce was final. I called Pat. That night, I almost slept on 'the bed' but we were actually too busy to sleep; but we did spend the night on it.



One evening, we were at her house and she was struggling with a section of her thesis, so we were discussing it. I was curious about something, so I flat-out asked her.



"When you read or talk about multiple sex partners in your studies, do you ever wonder what it would be like?"



She looked serious and spoke. "I knew you would eventually ask that and I will answer it as honestly as I can. At first, maybe just a little; but, the more I read, and the more multiple partner participants I interviewed, the more I wanted to fall in love with one man and spend my life dedicated to him. Some of my interviewees insist that, by letting their partner have sex with others, they are showing strength, confidence, and love. While they may believe that, my personal belief is that I want my man to be selfish and not want to share me; and vice versa. I know scientists are supposed to deal in facts and not emotions, so I may end up finding myself in a different field, but that's the way I feel. True love is powerful. True love is addictive. True love doesn't always come softly, or easily, or quickly; but, in the world of my mind, when it does come, it is eternal.



"Are you telling me that you have never been in love?"



"Not truly in love. I've had my moments, as we all have. I've confused lust with love, and I have kissed and been kissed by a few frogs. And the answer to your unasked question is four."



"Four what?"



"I've slept with four men. Well, actually, three men and one boy. The first was as a senior in high school. We were both eighteen. I would like to say he got me drunk, but he didn't. I was a willing participant and, compared to some of the stories I've either read, or heard, or heard about, my experience wasn't too bad. The second was in college and lasted not quite a year. He graduated the year before me and went off to Washington to work in Government. Haven't heard from him since. The third was over a year ago. I slept with him twice. You are the fourth; and I knew I wanted you when you let me drive your car up that silly hill. And it wasn't just because you let me drive it that I wanted you; but that was the icing on the cake, so to speak. Now, I'm not sure that I ever want to let you go."



She didn't let me go that night.



------------------------



Two months later, Bob helped me move into her house. Six weeks after that, she came home and was very quiet and reserved. It was the second straight night it happened. The night before, she had barely said a dozen words all night and, in bed, had rolled over with her back to me. Maybe she had decided to let me go after all.



The next night dinner was lonely because she wasn't there; oh, she was there physically; but, mentally, she was elsewhere. Several times, I started to ask, but decided not to.



We usually shared cleaning the kitchen on those evenings we had dinner at home together; but, that evening, she wanted to do it alone. I was pacing the living room and had almost decided to go upstairs and start packing when she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She was wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she spoke.



"Eric, we have to talk."



I took a deep breath. "Okay."



"Sit, please." Pause. "We don't often have occasion to go on raids in Longmont, except for minor drug things, and I am rarely asked to go on them. But, yesterday, I was asked to go on a raid they were going to conduct today. I told them sure, and they gave me the details. When they were finished, I told my supervisor that I probably shouldn't be included and I told him why; so, I was excused."



She took a deep breath. "The raid happened this afternoon. It was a sex ring, Eric. Two women, their pimp, and six customers. The raid took place at your old house. One of the women was Jessica. The other was the woman you were talking with the first time I saw you. I'm so sorry."



I sat there and absorbed what she had just told me. I stood, walked to her, held her, and kissed her forehead. "No need to be sorry. It has nothing to do with us."



"But it will. Their names will be in tomorrow's paper and, since you are her ex-husband, you are certain to be questioned. And, since I live with you, and I am on the police force, I will probably be questioned as well."



I looked at her. "Do you love me?"



"With all my heart," she said, reaching for my hand.



"Then we'll get through it," I said as I moved to hug her.



And we did. We were interviewed by a reporter the next day. A camera crew came from Denver to cover the story, but they never talked to us. All in all, it was relatively painless. I learned that the pimp for the sex ring was none other than Keith; and I heard from Sam that Keith had called him asking for bail money, but Sam had turned him down.



Less than 48 hours after their arrest, they all made bail ...



And then my phone rang.



-------- To Be Continued --------

