Friday, April 13, 1990, 4:30 PM
I arrive at my apartment building on the northern outskirts of Seattle after walking home from school with my best friend Mike Bailey. We are just in time to see a small moving van pull away. I was aware of a vacant apartment in the building, so I assume I have new neighbors.
Mike and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. Virtually all the trouble I get into involves Mike. It isn't his fault any more or less than it is mine. It's just that we spend so much time together that, if there's trouble, both of us are likely to be involved.
We both believe that the minimum wouldn't be the minimum if it wasn't good enough, and our grades reflect that attitude. With a little luck, we will graduate in a few weeks. College scholarships are out of the question and our parents are working class folks who provide all we need but don't have the funds to invest in our continued education. Lacking other prospects, I enlisted in the Army under a delayed entry program that allows me to graduate and then attend basic training a couple of weeks later. Mike doesn't want to go in the military. He has a summer job with an uncle in Spokane who sells farm machinery. If he likes the work, he plans to stay on. Meanwhile, we have time for a little more mischief before our departure. Mike heads for his apartment and then returns a few minutes later.
My family lives in a basement unit of a building that is built on a slope so my bedroom window is very close to ground level. Mike meets me just outside and waves to my younger sister who has the bedroom next to mine. She waves back with one finger. Mike laughs, returns the gesture, and she disappears inside with a grin.
"Look what I have," he announces as he pulls a large string of firecrackers out of the paper sack he's brought with him.
"Cool!" I exclaim. Firecrackers are impossible for us to resist. Mike's are small ones that provide lots of gratifying noise but pose little danger unless one detonates prematurely in your hand.
Mike produces a box of matches from the pocket of his jacket as I begin to separate the little explosives from the fuse material that strings them together so we can light them one at a time.
"All right!" exclaims Mike as the first one goes off with a bright flash.
"What are you morons doing?" yells a shrill voice from somewhere up above.
I look upward and see a gorgeous creature leaning part way out the window two floors above us. I have never seen her before. I'm guessing she must be my new neighbor. From the looks of her, things could be a lot worse.
"What does it look like we're doing?" I ask with a grin as I study her more closely. Flaming red hair frames a frowning, but beautiful, face. She has a slim torso with nicely proportioned breasts that add shape to the pullover sweater she is wearing.
"Why don't you imbeciles go somewhere else and do that?" she snarls.
I have no idea why I do what I do next. Lighting another firecracker's fuse, I toss the small explosive device straight up into the air. My timing is perfect. Just as it reaches the level of the third floor, it detonates about ten feet in front of her face.
"You fucking asshole!" she screams, loud enough that I suspect her parents aren't home.
Mike starts laughing and gives me a thumbs-up.
For the second time in about fifteen seconds I do something completely illogical. With my hands on my hips, I lean back a little and look up into a face that is flushed with anger.
"That's no way to talk to your future husband," I say calmly.
"What?" she screeches.
"You heard me," I reply with a grin on my face.
"I wouldn't marry a troglodyte like you if you were the last person on earth!" she yells as she slams the window shut and disappears back into her apartment.
Troglodyte? I'll have to look that one up.
"What's with you Jim?" asks Mike, looking at me like I have three heads.
"I...I'm not sure," I answer, feeling a little bit bewildered by what I have just done. "I think I'd better go up there and mend some fences."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Actually no, I'm not."
"She's pretty good looking, but I'm betting she's gonna rip your face off," he says with a wide grin. "I'm going home. Call me later if you survive."
"If my body is found in the hallway up there, you'll read about it in the papers," I answer with a grin of my own.
"Later Dude," he says with a wave of his hand and then takes off in the direction of his apartment that is a couple of buildings over from mine.
Twenty seconds later I am in the entryway of my building, studying the mail box labels. Her apartment is directly above mine but on the third floor. My apartment number is 103 so I know hers has to be 303. The name on the label says 'Flynn' in hand-printed capital letters. Sounds Irish to me. Goes with the red hair and the nasty temper.
I take the steps two at a time until I reach the third floor. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I stand directly in front of the peephole and rap softly on the door to apartment 303.
I knock a little harder.
Still nothing, so I knock louder.
"Fuck off!" comes a shriek from the other side of the door.
"Aw come on!" I explain. "I'm sorry about the firecracker thing."
"I'm calling the cops!" she yells.
That gets my attention. With few exceptions, fireworks are illegal in the state of Washington. Retreat seems like a wise move under the circumstances so I turn and head down the stairs with as much dignity as I can muster.
When I arrive at my apartment, I pull a dictionary off the desk in my bedroom and look up the word 'troglodyte.' Mister Webster provides several definitions, none of them flattering. The most likely one she was applying to me is 'a person of degraded, primitive, or brutal character.' While I don't agree with her characterization, I am impressed by her vocabulary.
I spend the rest of the weekend trying, without success, to catch another glimpse of the red haired beauty. A couple of times I spot a man and woman I believe to be her parents but she is nowhere to be seen.
On Monday morning, I position myself in the entryway of the building across from ours where I am reasonably well hidden and can observe any comings and goings from my own building. I don't know anything about Ms. Flynn but she seems to be close to my age. If she is still in school, she should make an appearance soon.
I don't have long to wait. In less than five minutes a late model black Nissan pulls up In front of the building and she emerges onto the porch with a couple of books in her arms. She is more stunning than I thought. Shapely legs emerge from a knee-length skirt and carefully tended hair flows down to the middle of her back. She is breathtaking.
Seconds later she jumps into the passenger seat. I note with relief that the driver is a girl. It doesn't mean there is no boyfriend, but it gives me hope. And then they are gone.
I don't have a car. My parents can't afford to buy one for me and I've never been able to accumulate enough cash from various summer jobs to buy one for myself. I walk to school unless the weather is miserable and I am forced to take the bus.
When I arrive at school, I detour through the student parking lot. There are two black Nissans, either of which could be the car of interest. On the other hand, maybe they don't go to my school at all. There are a couple of private schools in the area. Kicking myself for not making note of the license plate number, I enter the building and go to my locker.
At the lunch break, I head down the hallway toward the administrative offices where honor roll lists for the current year are posted on the wall outside. My name won't be on them but I am hoping that Ms. Flynn is a good student. If her name doesn't appear, I will have to find a way to get a roster of students for the whole school. For a variety of reasons, such lists are closely guarded by the staff.
I hit the jackpot. 'Jenna' Flynn is a straight-A student.
"Yes!" I blurt out as I pump the air with my fist; drawing the attention of one of my teachers who knows damned well I am not reacting to the appearance of my name on the list.
"You're kidding, right?" asks Mr. Fellows, my history teacher, with a wide grin. We like each other well enough but I am lucky to maintain a C-minus in his class.
"Just checking on a friend," I answer with a smile of my own and then head down the hall toward the lunchroom so I won't have to answer any more questions.
Our school is huge. There are more than four hundred kids in my senior class so I am not surprised that I have not encountered Jenna Flynn before. Plus I take the easiest classes I can get away with and I'm certain she takes only advanced placement courses. I also don't know how long she has been at the school. For all I know, she could be a recent transfer student.
Lunch consists of sliders and fries; my personal favorite. Mike's too. We have the same lunch period so I join him at a table near the door. The school needs three periods to accommodate more than twelve hundred students in three grades. I am pretty sure that Jenna isn't assigned to my lunch period or I would have noticed her before. Either that or she eats lunch somewhere else.
"I don't see any bandages," Mike quips. "How did it go?"
"She wouldn't answer the door and she threatened to call the cops."
"Stay away from her then. She's bad news," Mike advises.
"I can't do that," I reply. "I'm smitten."
"Oh for Christ's sake," exclaims Mike, shaking his head in disbelief. "So now what?"
"I'm going to stalk her," I answer with a grin.
"Great. Add a felony into the mix."
"I don't mean stalk her in that way, but I need to find out more about her."
"She's gorgeous and she intrigues me."
"Yeah, and she has the personality of a pit viper. Plus you'll be gone in a few weeks," Mike points out.
"You're right, but until then..."
"You're going to follow her around like a drooling puppy," he interrupts.
"...I'm going to try to spend some time with her."
"Well, good luck. I still have a snake bite kit left over from Boy Scouts if you need it," Mike responds with a laugh. "C'mon. It's time for shop class."
It takes a few days, but I finally get a handle on her class schedule by arriving at school early to see where she goes for her first class. By skipping a couple of classes after that, I am able to see where she goes each time the bell rings. Finally, I gather my courage and take up a position across the hall from one of her classrooms after telling my teacher I needed a bathroom break.
When the bell rings, she is the fourth or fifth student to exit the room. She spots me immediately.
"About that firecracker thing..."
"Beat it dickhead."
"I mean it asshole! Leave me alone!"
I just stare at her. With one last withering look, she turns on her heel and marches down the hall toward her next class. I admire her splendid legs and decide to try again the next day.
Selecting a different classroom, once again I position myself across the hall and wait for the bell to ring. She almost doesn't notice me this time but realizes I am waiting for her just before she turns toward her next class. Changing course, she walks right up to me.
"Are you stalking me?" she inquires, clearly annoyed.
"Sort of," I answer.
"Why?" she demands.
"Have you looked into a mirror recently?" I ask with a smile.
"How shallow," she sneers. "I think I'll report you to the principal."
"For being shallow?" I ask, grinning broadly now.
"Oh, for God's sake," she mutters and stalks off.
I don't give up easily. The next day I cut study hall, my last class of the day, and go home early so I can be seated on the front stoop of the apartment building when Jenna arrives. She can't get to her place without going past me.
My butt is going to sleep from sitting on concrete for an hour when the black Nissan pulls up in front and Jenna emerges from the car with a backpack in one hand. As her friend drives off, she looks up at me with a severe frown on her face.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she snaps as I rise to my feet.
"I live here," I respond. Suddenly it dawns on me that she doesn't know I live two floors below hers.
"Apartment 103," I add.
"Wonderful," she replies, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's your name? I assume you already know mine."
"Troglodyte. James Troglodyte," I answer with a straight face.
Her mouth twitches as she tries to fight back a smile and I know I'm on a roll.
"Well Mr. Troglodyte, I suppose you were waiting to apologize for throwing a firecracker at me..."
"I didn't throw it at you," I interrupt.
"...in which case I accept."
I can't help but grin and then she smiles back at me.
"May I join you?" she asks, gesturing at the step I had been sitting on.
"By all means," I respond, waving a hand at the porch with a flourish.
Jenna is something of a chatterbox and I am content to let her do most of the talking while I try to study her without being too obvious about it. Without a frown she is even more beautiful than I thought. She has a square face with a wide mouth and full lips. Her large eyes are a startling shade of green. A faint dusting of freckles crosses the bridge of her small nose. Her face is framed by luxurious red hair that falls loosely down her back and over her nicely proportioned breasts. Her elegant bare legs are long, slim, and smooth. She is an absolute knockout in every way and I start fantasizing about getting into her pants.
In the half hour we sit together I learn that she is an only child, transferred to our school part way through the eleventh grade, and moved into the upstairs apartment from the other side of our school district. I also learn that she has been offered a free ride - room, board, tuition, books, and fees at Washington State University. She has just found a job in a nearby mall that will last through the summer. In return, I inform her that I am leaving in a few weeks for Fort Benning.
"Why not college?" she asks.
"C-student," I reply.
"Should have done your homework," she says with a smile. "What will you do in the Army?"
"I have no idea. The recruiter told me the decision will be made based on some tests I'll take during basic training."
"Well, I hope you don't get shot," she says as she gets to her feet. "Gotta go. I have a lot of homework. See you later."
As it turns out, we don't see much of each other. Jenna's job takes up most of her spare time so I begin to suspect that my fantasy about her will not become reality.
We do talk on the front porch from time to time. Eventually I try to kiss her but she puts her hand on my chest and gently pushes me away.
"Not going to happen Jim," she informs me. "You'll be leaving soon and I'll probably never see you again."
That pretty much drives a stake through the heart of my fantasy. I feel a sharp sense of loss because I am convinced that something good would develop between us under other circumstances.
Mike and I squeak through final exams and learn that we will, in fact, get our diplomas. Graduation week arrives with its endless rehearsals, award ceremonies, and finally graduation itself. The Class of 1990 is now one for the history books. Mike and I kill time for a couple of weeks, then I board a plane for Fort Benning and he takes off for Spokane.
Friday, August 13, 2010, 7:00 PM
I learned to hate Fridays several years ago. Whoever coined the TGIF phrase clearly had a normal job. In my work the term is OFIF. Oh Fuck It's Friday.
I have been a homicide detective with the Seattle police department for the past five years. In nearly every major metropolitan area, almost half the murders in any given week occur during the forty-eight hours between six o'clock Friday evening and six o'clock Sunday evening. Lots of people blow off a little steam on the weekends. Unfortunately, a small percentage of them do it by killing each other.
But unlike most Fridays, this one shows promise. Today is my last day as a regular homicide detective. Effective Monday morning, I'll be promoted to Lieutenant and will take command of the Open-Unsolved unit in the detective division. My focus will be on those cases, some unsolved for years, that the department wants to aggressively pursue. Solving old cases gives a tremendous public relations boost to the police force. I am honored to have the promotion and the assignment.
On this Friday night I pull into a parking garage about a block from the Essex Hotel in downtown Seattle. As soon as my car is parked on the second level, I glance around to see if anyone is nearby. I have the area all to myself so I strip off my shoulder holster with its duty weapon and toss the rig into the trunk on top of the twelve gauge pump shotgun in its cradle. Unclipping the detective's shield from my belt, I slip it into the inside pocket of my sport coat.
After adjusting my clothing and satisfying myself that I don't look too much like a cop, I take the stairs down to street level for the short walk to the hotel.
A sign near the entrance informs me that Shoreline High School's twentieth reunion reception is in the Grand Ballroom. The sign includes an arrow to point me in the right direction.
The buzz of conversation grows louder as I approach the room. Peals of laughter punctuate the chatter. After pausing at a table near the entrance to pick up my name tag, I stop in the doorway to study the crowd for a moment.
There are probably two hundred people milling about. Everyone has a drink in hand. From the looks of many of them, it is not the first of the evening. I am arriving an hour after the official start of the kickoff reception so the party is in full swing. Crossing over to one of several cash bars in the ballroom, I order a single malt over ice.
Over the years I have kept in touch with Mike and a handful of other friends from school. I have not seen the rest of the class since graduation, so I spend an enjoyable hour getting reacquainted with a dozen or so people that I remember from various classes we took together.
Deciding on a refill of my drink, I return to the same cash bar. With my scotch in hand, I turn away and suddenly stop short. Jenna Flynn is standing off to one side with a couple of attractive women I don't recognize. She is not looking in my direction so I ease my way to the edge of the room and lean against one of the large pillars that supports the ballroom ceiling.
She is wearing a mid-thigh length dress with lots of green to complement what I know to be compelling eyes of the same color. Shapely legs emerge from the dress to terminate in open-toed high heels. Flowing red hair, lightly curled and worn long, frames her beautiful face just as it did when she was a teenager. I have not forgotten. Her image has been etched in my memory for twenty years. My heart beats faster at the sight of her.
Some people have a sixth sense that causes them to be subliminally aware that they are being observed. Within a few minutes, Jenna begins to glance around, clearly trying to identify who is tickling her subconscious. I continue to look directly at her, waiting to see if she will zero in on me.
In less than a minute, her eyes lock onto mine and recognition registers on her face. I grin and receive a brilliant smile in return. Taking that as permission to approach, I start across the room toward her. Jenna says something to her companions and then heads in my direction.
"Well, well, well," she says, "Mr. Troglodyte I presume?"
"At your service ma'am," I respond with a bow, my voice breaking slightly from the adrenaline surge. Her name tag identifies her as Jenna Flynn and I see no sign of wedding rings.
"You haven't changed very much Jim," she observes. "The years have been kind to you."
"And they've been a blessing for you," I answer. She was beautiful twenty years ago but she is absolutely gorgeous now. I feel a little weak in the knees.
"Why thank you sir. Could I prevail upon you to get me another glass of chardonnay?"
"Of course," I reply, relieving her of her empty glass. "I'll be right back."
I can't believe this is happening. I have thought about her off and on over the years but never thought our paths would cross. I didn't attend our tenth reunion because of my job and I damned near skipped this one. Maybe the gods are smiling on me for a change.
"Here you go," I say. Her fingers brush mine as she relieves me of the glass. I feel my face start to flush a little.
"Let's go out on the terrace and get reacquainted," she suggests. "I've already seen just about everyone I wanted to catch up with."
The evening is warm and several doors leading to the terrace stand open. Fifteen or twenty people are already there but the space is large and the noise level is much lower than inside. An empty bench beckons to us.
"So what have you been doing all these years?" I ask, taking a sip of my scotch.
"There's a short story and a slightly longer one. The short version is that I went to Washington State, majored in medical science, transferred here to the University for med school, and eventually became an ophthalmologist. I worked at Swedish Hospital for years and then decided to join a private practice. I live in Olympia and work with five other doctors. We do the full range of eye stuff from cosmetics to retina work. How about you? I remember that you were going into the army."
"Well, after basic training, the Army witch doctors divined that I should be a military policeman. I spent the remainder of my enlistment as an MP, then took my honorable discharge and ran like hell. During those years I learned the value of an education, so I used the GI Bill to get a degree in criminal justice in Ellensburg. My MP experience got me part-time employment with the campus police, which in turn helped me get hired by the Seattle PD. I've been on the force for twelve years, the last five as a detective."
"And what do you detect?" she asks with a smile.
"Mostly homicide stuff."
"Oh, my. That must be depressing. Do you like the work?"
"I like solving cases but I could do without the gore. It's incredible what people are capable to doing to one another. Fortunately, I'm being reassigned to work cold cases so I won't be seeing many fresh corpses in the future. Your line of work must be pretty fulfilling. At the end of the day you've helped a few people see better."
"That's true, and it's the main reason I was attracted to the field. I get quick feedback when I perform many of the procedures I do."
We engage in small talk for a few more minutes.
"Ready for a refill?" I ask.
She hesitates a moment and then shrugs.
"Sure. Why not? I'm staying here at the hotel tonight and tomorrow night so I can enjoy the reunion without having to drive the sixty miles home to Olympia each night. Are you staying here?"
"I have a condo not too far from here, so I don't need to stay at the hotel. I'll be right back."
Waiting in line at the bar gives me a little time to start having impure thoughts about Ms. Flynn and what might be in our future. She seems content to spend time with me, showing little interest in the other attendees. A few minutes later I rejoin her on the terrace.
"You told me the short version of your life," I say as I place the wine glass into her hands. Once again her fingers brush mine and my skin tingles in response. "I have more than enough time for the long one."
"There's really not all that much more to tell. The medical profession has taken up most of my time. I was married for a long time to a guy I met at med school. That turned out to be a mistake. Our divorce was final two years ago. I haven't dated much since and I'm not in a relationship now. Now it's your turn to fill in some blanks."
My heart rate surges in response to her revelation that there is no one special in her life.
"I committed a cardinal sin toward the end of my time as a patrol officer. My partner at the time was a scrappy little blonde. Against all common sense, we started fooling around and ended up getting married. Married cops can't partner with each other so we were split up. We went in different directions career- wise too. I became a detective and she joined the police chief's staff. Cops should never marry other cops. We didn't last long. She has remarried. I have not. Nor am I involved with anyone now."
"When you were telling me about being a detective, you sounded as though it might not be your life's work."
"I don't see myself being a detective forever. I'll enjoy working cold cases for a while, but given a choice, I'd like to end up as a small town police chief somewhere," I reply. "I love Seattle, but I'd like an opportunity to live somewhere a little less hectic."
"I know what you mean. I've had some second thoughts about the practice in Olympia. At Swedish I got to do the complete range of eye work and every day was different. In our practice I've been pushed into a bit of a pigeonhole by the boss. Most of my work now is cataract surgery. I'm good at it but I don't want to lose my edge in the other areas. I'm still trying to decide what to do about it."
"Well, I don't think either of us needs to make major career decisions this weekend," I offer with a smile.
"I agree. And now I'm starving. Let's grab some of that finger food before it's all gone, have another drink or two, and then call it a night," Jenna suggests. "It's been a long day."
We go back inside, fill a couple of plates with hors devours, and go back to the terrace. An hour later we've taken the edge off our hunger and are sipping our final drinks of the evening.
"So, what's on the agenda for you tomorrow?" I ask.
"They've organized some sort of tour and shopping thing for the women," she answers. "What are you doing?"
"There's the usual golf tournament for the guys," I reply. "I think there's a continental breakfast from eight to nine."
"There is. Why don't we meet for breakfast about eight thirty," Jenna suggests.
"Perfect!" I say with some enthusiasm. "May I see you up to your room?"
Her room is on the top floor which makes me happy. It adds a couple of seconds to our elevator ride.
Arriving at her room, I make note of the number, take the key from her hand, and unlock her door. As I swing the door open and return her key, she leans over and kisses me softly on the cheek.
"Thank you," she says. "I'm glad we got together this evening."
"Me too," I reply, and then add reluctantly, "I'll see you in the morning."
As I turn the corner toward the elevators, I glance back. Jenna is still standing in her doorway. She smiles, waves, and then disappears inside.
Twenty minutes later I enter my condo. I'm too keyed up to sleep but I go to bed anyway. A few minutes of fantasizing about Ms. Flynn and some energetic digital manipulation of the resulting erection relaxes me enough to finally doze off. As a kid, I heard the rumor that masturbation causes blindness. Years of practice seem to disprove that theory and I now feel doubly protected; with a little luck I might soon be dating an eye doctor.
At eight-fifteen I position myself outside Jenna's door and a little to one side so she can't see me through the peep hole. A minute or so later her door opens. She steps into the hallway and stops in front of me.
"Are you stalking me?" she inquires with a slight smile.
"Sort of," I answer, keeping a straight face.
"Have you looked into a mirror recently?" I reply.
"Do I look that good?" Jenna is wearing shorts that display perfect legs, a sleeveless blouse, and low cut tennis shoes. Her long red hair cascades down her back.
"I don't have the right words to describe how good you look."
"Thank you James."
"You are most welcome."
"I have an idea," she continues. "Unless you're anxious to play golf, let's skip the planned activities and spend the day together. You can use the time to search through your vocabulary and then tell me how good I look at the banquet tonight."
"I'd rather spend the day with you than do anything else," I reply with my heart in my throat. Her suggestion is the last thing I expected to hear.
"Then if you don't mind, I'd like to ride the ferries. I haven't been on one in a long time."
"Good idea! The weather is perfect." I can't believe my good fortune. I love the ferries and now I am going to spend the day on them with the most beautiful woman on the planet.
"Better grab a sweater," I suggest. "It'll be a bit cool this morning on the water." I am already wearing a windbreaker. Jenna disappears inside and returns moments later with a green cardigan that matches her eyes.
After a leisurely bite or two at the continental breakfast, we take off on foot toward the ferry landing less than a mile away.
"Which one first?" I ask as we arrive at the terminal.
"Whichever one is leaving next," she replies with a smile.
The Bainbridge Island ferry is the next to depart. I buy tickets and we board a couple of minutes before it leaves the dock. Avoiding the interior seating, we climb the stairs to the upper deck and lean against the railing for the half-hour crossing of Puget Sound.
We talk a little but spend most of the trip admiring the beauty all around us. Much of the beauty I admire is standing right beside me, the wind blowing through her hair, a beatific smile on her face. From time to time she closes her eyes and tilts her face up to the sun. I feel completely overwhelmed by her proximity.
Just before our arrival, Jenna leans against me and lays her head gently against my shoulder.
"Thank you," she murmurs. "What a perfect way to spend the day."
I slip an arm around her waist and pull her closer.
"I agree," I reply. "Absolutely perfect."
It is time to disembark, so we join the throng moving down the gangway to shore. We spend a pleasant hour poking around in the art galleries and shops near the ferry landing and then stop for a latte at a little place that has outdoor seating.
"I finally figured out what's different about you," I announce.
"Oh? And what's that?"
"We've now spent several hours together counting last evening and you haven't said 'fuck,' 'asshole,' or 'dickhead' even once," I answer with a grin.
Jenna lets out a belly laugh and then recovers enough to reply.
"Believe me; I still have my Irish temper and my potty mouth. Throw another firecracker at me and you'll see."
"I never actually threw one at you before. I just tossed it straight up in the air."
"Just out of curiosity, why did you do that?"
"I think I just wanted to keep your attention a little longer."
"Well, it worked. And for the record, I know I overreacted. But don't be tossing any more explosives in my direction," she says with a smile.
"Won't happen. I promise."
"And by the way, whatever happened to your partner in crime?" she asks.
"That was Mike Bailey. He owns a farm implement dealership in Spokane. He wasn't able to attend the reunion. He's a big wheel in the Chamber of Commerce and he has another commitment this weekend, but we see each other several times a year."
"Do you guys still like to blow things up?" she inquires.
"Nah, we outgrew that," I respond with a grin.
"Good, because you'd be surprised at the eye injuries I encounter that are caused by fireworks."
We finish our drinks just in time to catch the next ferry back to Seattle. Disembarking, I buy tickets for the Bremerton ferry and we board a few minutes later. That ferry takes an even prettier route and the trip lasts about an hour. We buy sandwiches and eat them on the top deck sitting very close together on a bench.
We amuse ourselves in downtown Bremerton until the next ferry arrives and then board for the return trip to Seattle. Once again we find ourselves on the upper deck. I move behind Jenna and reach around her with both hands to grasp the rail, trapping her between my arms. She turns to face me.
"If you try to kiss me," she murmurs softly, "I'll let you this time."
That's all the invitation I need. Pressing my lips gently to hers we share a chaste little kiss that is still enough to cause a stirring between my legs. Our second kiss has much more heat with parted lips and gently probing tongues. A smattering of applause from some of the other passengers reminds us of where we are and we break apart, grinning foolishly.
"Perhaps we can do a bit more of that later," announces Jenna with a wink.
Right then and there I decide to do whatever is necessary to keep this woman in my life. Something about her, besides her beauty, struck a chord with me twenty years ago and I am acutely aware of the same feelings now.
We arrive back at the hotel a little before five and I escort Jenna up to her room. Just as we arrive at her door, both of us halt. The unmistakable sounds of a highly aroused woman approaching orgasm can be plainly heard coming from the room directly across the hall.
"Oh, my!" exclaims Jenna as she blinks rapidly in surprise. I stand silently, frozen in place.
"Do you remember Shelly Macklin?" she continues, one hand pressed to her throat.
"Skinny blonde? A bit spacey?"
"That's the one, only she's filled out nicely since high school and she doesn't come across as spacey now. That's her room. I ran into her when we were checking in yesterday. She told me her husband was on a business trip and couldn't attend the reunion with her."
Whoever is doing Shelly completes the task. She goes over the edge with a high pitched wail that can be heard halfway down the hall. Jenna blushes while I shove my hands in my pants pockets, trying to conceal a growing erection.
"Whew!" she exclaims as she fans herself with both hands and takes several deep breaths. The silence in the hall is now deafening.
"Will you come get me at six?" she finally asks. Cocktail hour is at six with dinner to follow at seven.
"I'll be here on the dot," I reply, my voice breaking a little.
Jenna leans forward and gives me a quick kiss on the lips.
"See you then," she says and then disappears into her room.
After a quick shower, a shave, and a change into more formal attire, I arrive at Jenna's room right on time. Her door is ajar and I knock softly.
"It's open. Come on in." she calls.
I push the door open with the intention of lecturing her about the dangers of leaving hotel doors open in a big city. I forget what I was going to say the instant I see her standing just inside the door.
The whole concept of the little black dress was apparently conceived with Jenna in mind.
"Holy...holy shit," I stammer.
"Those aren't exactly the words I was hoping for," she announces with a small frown and then sticks her tongue out at me.
Like any proper little black dress, there isn't much to it; just enough to showcase her superb body. Thin spaghetti straps hold everything in place. The hem stops at mid-thigh. Three inch heels try to add shape to legs that don't need any help. She is clearly braless. Pert nipples poke against the fabric and a generous amount of cleavage is on display.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever encountered," I breathe, meaning every word of it.
"That's much better," she replies, now smiling radiantly at me. "I assume you won't mind being seen with me."
"I hope you won't mind me tagging along," I answer. "Compared to you, I look like a bale of rags."
"Nonsense. Now let's go downstairs. But first, a kiss."
I gather her into my arms and we enjoy our first truly passionate and private kiss. It lasts a long time. I can feel Jenna's heart beating rapidly against my chest as she molds her body into mine. I break away before my erection becomes too obvious. We are both a little breathless when the kiss ends.
"Let's do that again sometime," I suggest.
"Perhaps," she responds with a little smile as she takes my arm and we step out into the hallway.
Just as I pull her door closed, the door across the hall opens and Shelly Macklin emerges from her room with a very striking brunette close behind.
"Hi Jenna. This is my friend Barbara. She's my guest for the reunion."
"It's nice to meet you Barbara," Jenna responds without missing a beat. "This is Jim Williams. Shelly, I'm sure you remember him from school."
"I do remember. Nice to see you again Jim."
"Nice to see you too, Shelly. And a pleasure to meet you Barbara." I respond with a grin as I form a mental image of them in bed together.
Clearly the two women have no idea that we overheard one of them having an orgasm an hour earlier. It is equally clear that they are unashamed of their relationship because they hold hands as the four of us walk down the hall to the elevators.
I can tell that Jenna is working hard to suppress a giggle during the elevator ride. Shelly and Barbara leave the elevator ahead of us, still holding hands. As soon as they are far enough away, Jenna clamps a hand over her mouth and does a credible imitation of a Sandra Bullock snort.
"Those two are going to bring down the house tonight if they keep it up," she says, laughing. "When Shelly and I were checking in yesterday, Barbara was standing right behind her. I thought she was just another classmate I didn't recognize. I had no idea they were together. Looks like Shelly's husband is in for a big surprise when word gets back to him."
"Or he already knows. Maybe they're normally a threesome," I suggest with a straight face.
"You think so?" Jenna asks, her eyes open wide.
"No clue. I was just joking," I answer, grinning and taking her hand as I lead her into the ballroom.
Cocktail hour is already in full swing. Jenna asks for Pinot Noir so I get each of us a glass from the cash bar. We spend the next hour mingling side by side with people we remember from school, one of whom comes right out and inquires if we are a couple.
"Maybe," replies Jenna, causing my heart rate to increase.
Later on, the food is excellent but the banquet itself bores me almost to tears. Perhaps two hundred people are in the room, most seated at large round tables of twelve each. Shelly and Barbara join us at our table but I don't know any of the other attendees.
A long head table is at one end of the room where the reunion organizers are seated. As with many reunions, these are the people who had the large pictures in the yearbook; the homecoming king and queen, the class president, and a handful of others. For some of them, this is a once-every-ten-year opportunity to relive the adoration they received as teenagers. More often than not, they have experienced nothing like it as adults.
Mercifully, the class president gives a brief speech, thanks the reunion committee for its hard work and implores the rest of us to enjoy the food and the dancing afterward.
Jenna and I keep our heads together most of the time during dinner, ignoring everyone else. Shelly and Barbara do the same.
With dinner concluded, a DJ begins his act. Jenna immediately starts to sway in her seat, keeping perfect time with the music. My heart sinks. I'm not a dancer.
"Let's go out on the terrace and dance," she suggests when a slow tune fills the room. "We'll be able to hear the music out there and avoid the crowd."
"You will regret this," I declare. "I have no rhythm. I can't tap my finger to a song for more than ten seconds without losing the beat."
"You can't possibly be that bad," Jenna answers, grinning at me.
"Trust me," I say, taking her into my arms.
About a minute later, Jenna leans back to look me in the eye.
"Okay, you're right," she says, laughing softly. "Just relax and let me lead."
That works well enough so we dance the slow ones and sit out the fast ones. Shelly and Barbara join us on the terrace and begin to dance, as do ten or twelve other couples. I couldn't care less about the dancing, but I revel in the opportunity to hold Jenna close.
We spend a little time between dances talking to Shelly and Barbara. They reveal little of a personal nature but it is apparent that they have been together for quite some time. I find myself liking them both very much. Jenna appears to share my opinion.
An hour or so later, she takes me by the hand and leads me to a vacant bench at the far end of the terrace. No one else is nearby.
"I stopped having casual sex during my sophomore year in college," she blurts out, startling me. "I have toys that satisfy most of my needs when I'm not in a serious relationship; and it's been a long time since that was the case. That said, if what you have in mind is a one night stand, one of those reunion things, this will go no further."
"On the ferry coming back from Bremerton this afternoon, I realized that I was going to do whatever it takes to keep you in my life. I have no interest in a one night stand, or a two night stand, or any other short term arrangement," I declare, looking directly into her beautiful green eyes.
Jenna returns my gaze for an eternity, clearly evaluating my sincerity. Apparently she decides in my favor.
"Then I think we'd better go up to my room," she finally announces, rising to her feet. We hold hands all the way. When we arrive at her door, we are once again treated to sounds of female arousal coming from the room across the hall. Shelly and Barbara apparently left the festivities ahead of us and are now at it again.
"That voice sounds different from this afternoon," Jenna whispers with a grin. "Apparently it's payback time."
"Good for them," I reply as I relieve Jenna of her key and unlock the door.
"Yes. And now it's our turn," she says.
"Undress me," she orders after I lock the door and remove my jacket and tie. I can't help but notice that her bed had been prepared in advance. The duvet, blanket, and top sheet have been pulled down to the foot of the bed, giving us the entire expanse of the king sized bed. A small bedside lamp is the only illumination.
As I cross the room toward her, she turns away from me so I can deal with her zipper. I decide to take my time. Grasping her bare shoulders, I pull her close, push her luxurious hair to one side, and bend to kiss the nape of her neck.
As slowly as I am able, I ease the zipper down to the small of her back and then turn her around to face me. She has a serene expression on her beautiful face as she looks deeply into my eyes.
Brushing her hair back behind her ears, I slip the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and let the little dress slide down to the floor.
"You have a beautiful body," I whisper as I reach out to cup a high, firm breast in each hand. Jenna lets out a soft moan as I lightly brush her alert nipples with my thumbs.
Dropping to my knees in front of her, I place her hands on my shoulders and lift her feet free of the dress one at a time to remove her shoes. She is now standing before me naked except for a tiny pair of black lace panties.
Hooking my fingers into the waistband, I ease her panties down over exquisite legs and toss the flimsy garment aside. Still on my knees, I press my lips into the dark red triangle of hair between her thighs.
Jenna places her hands on the back of my head and briefly pushes her pubic mound hard against my lips. Then, giving me a playful shove, she moves over to the bed and takes her place in the center of the mattress, beckoning me forward with a smile and a come-hither motion of her hand.
As smoothly as I can manage, I remove the rest of my clothing and join her, my erection now fully developed.
"Leave the light on," she orders. "I want to look at you as long as I am able to keep my eyes open."
We spend the next fifteen minutes caressing each other's skin with hands, lips, and tongues. Her beauty is overwhelming and her response to my touch is exhilarating. Knowing I am going to enter her soon is making me tremble with anticipation.
Sensing my need, she opens her legs, takes my hand, and places it firmly between her thighs. Within seconds I am gently probing with my fingers, careful to avoid direct contact with her clitoris.
"Oh, God," she murmurs as I slip two fingers deep inside her wetness. Then...
"Oh! Oh!" as I curl my fingers upward to stroke her G-spot. "Ohhhhh..." she continues as she rotates her hips to press hard against my hand.
Obviously, what I'm doing is working so I keep stroking.
Either she is naturally orgasmic and cums easily or she was already highly aroused because she goes over the edge quickly, her body quivering in release as she lets out a muffled cry with her mouth pressed against the side of my neck. I continue to gently probe with my fingers but avoid her now hyper-sensitive clit.
I decide to let her rest awhile, but she has other ideas.
"Now please," she whispers as she urgently grasps my swollen cock.
Kneeling between her thighs, I pause to admire her body. She is thirty-eight years old and ought to have a flaw somewhere. If she has one, I can't see it. She's perfect. Her pale Celtic skin is smooth and unblemished. Her luminous hair is fanned out on the pillow. I find myself wondering how any man who was with her like this in the past could ever let her go.
"Now please," she whispers again, looking directly into my eyes.
We maintain eye contact as I lean forward and slowly ease my cock into her hot, wet center.
"Hmmmm...do that again."
"What?" I whisper, not exactly certain what she wants.
"Enter me again. I love that feeling."
Always willing to please a lady, I do as she asks, withdrawing completely and then re-entering her.
"Again," she murmurs, still looking deeply into my eyes. I comply.
When I start to withdraw a third time, Jenna clutches my hips with her hands to hold me in place.
"Stay inside me now," she orders with a languid smile.
I want this to last for an eternity so I begin to move very slowly. But once again Jenna has other ideas. She begins moving her hips, establishing a rhythm that suits her. I adopt her tempo as she continues to stare deeply into my eyes.
For the next few minutes, Jenna is in constant motion, vocalizing her pleasure as I hold to a steady pace. Soon she is no longer able to maintain eye contact and her eyelids drift shut. Small cries, murmurs, and an occasional sharp yelp punctuate the sounds of our bodies moving together on a bed that matches our rhythm with a barely perceptible squeak.
"Harder now," she instructs and counterthrusts against my hips with some urgency. I get the message and begin to impact her body sharply at the end of each thrust.
"Oh yes. That's it," she pants as she stops counterthrusting and begins to draw her legs up my flanks to encourage deeper penetration. "Harder!"
I am now pounding my cock into her pussy with all my strength, silently praying that I can maintain this pace until she cums. It is going to be a close call.
Jenna clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries as she rockets upward toward what I believe is going to be a spectacular orgasm. She does not disappoint me. Mercifully, she cums with a muffled shriek, her body shuddering beneath mine as I completely lose control and spew into her with powerful contractions.
Her legs drop back onto the bed and her arms fall to the side. Her breasts are heaving as she struggles to gain control of her breathing. An occasional tremor signals an aftershock from her orgasm. I start to withdraw.
"No! Don't move," she commands as she wraps her arms around my neck. I lower myself back into position and gather her tightly into my arms.
Several minutes later we disengage and lie beside each other on the rumpled sheet.
"God that was good," she whispers. "It has been a long, long time."
I am pleased to hear that. Just the thought of another man doing to her what I just did, particularly if it was a recent event, triggers an uncharacteristic flash of possessive jealousy. Shoving those feelings aside, I respond.
"It has been a long time for me too, but I have to confess it was well worth the wait. I wouldn't mind doing that again sometime."
"Oh, I don't know. We'll see," she says with a sly little smile. "But not tonight. I am suddenly so sleepy I can't hold my eyes open. It has been a long, wonderful day with a fantastic conclusion."
I agree with her, turn out the light, pull up the bedclothes, and gather her back into my arms.
I am being pulled up out of a deep sleep by a pleasant feeling between my legs. The room is completely dark except for a faint glow from the bedside clock radio that informs me it is two-thirty in the morning.
I can barely make out Jenna's shape. She is sitting up in bed beside me, stroking my fully erect cock with nimble surgeon's fingers.
"I thought you were sleepy," I mumble.
"I was. Dropped right off. Then I dreamed I was astride you, fucking you. I decided to make the dream come true," she answers as she swings one leg across my body and then lowers herself into position.
"Oh Lord," she moans.
Now fully impaled on my cock, she brushes her hair back away from her face.
"Just lie there and let me do all the work," she whispers as she begins to move, slowly rocking her hips to rub her clit against my pubic bone. In return, I run my fingers up to the top of her legs and then trace the inside of her thighs back down to her knees. Repeating the motion, I feel her shiver with pleasure at my touch and she begins to cry out softly.
From time to time she rises up on her knees until I barely remain inside her and then quickly lowers herself back down to envelope my cock once more. I approve of her technique.
Her cries become more audible and she quickens her pace as her arousal spirals upward. Within seconds she is moving very quickly. I grasp her hips while she rides me hard, hair flying, crying out continually now as she starts the final ascent to what I know will be a sensational orgasm. I am desperate to outlast her. It will take all my will power.
Suddenly, Jenna throws her head back, puts a hand over her mouth, and lets out a muffled shriek. Her pussy clamps rhythmically around my cock and I explode into her with a loud groan as she collapses onto my chest. I put my arms around her and hold her close.
We remain that way for several minutes before she begins to stir. Sitting upright, she runs her hands gently over my chest and then rolls to my side so I can gather her back into my arms for the remainder of the night.
"Hold me tight," she whispers.
"Time to get up!" I hear from somewhere far away.
"Wha...what time is it?" I grumble.
"In the morning?"
"Of course it's morning. Now get up. We have a busy day ahead of us."
"Yes. We are going downstairs for breakfast and then I'm going to check out of the hotel and stash my bag in your car. Then we're going to the Market and we'll take a walk along the waterfront. After that, you are going to show me your condo where I'll spend the night if you'll have me."
"Gee, I don't know about that," I tell her, shaking my head in mock uncertainty. "We hardly know each other."
Jenna just grins at me in return. She is wearing a loose-fitting pale yellow sundress with sandals. Her hair has been pulled back into a ponytail. She is braless again. Or still. She is ravishing.
I need to shower, brush my teeth, and change clothes so I suggest that I race over to my place and take care of business. Reluctantly she agrees.
I am back in her room within forty-five minutes and we go down to one of the hotel restaurants. We have little company. Most of the reunion revelers are still sleeping it off.
"I have a question for you," I tell her after we order. "It's about something that crossed my mind last night."
"How could any man who has ever been with you let you get away?"
Jenna looks at me for a long moment, making me fear that I have screwed up by being intrusive.
"They didn't have a choice," she finally replies. I understand immediately what she means.
"I don't want to repeat their mistakes," I offer.
"I don't think you will, but I'll tell you the story anyway. My first real relationship started in my junior year of college. We all smoked a little weed in school, but it turned that he had a serious drug habit. It took me a long while to figure that out, but when I did, he was history. The second was my husband who is also a doctor. We were married for almost ten years. Apparently, he got bored with our sex life because he started banging the nursing staff where he worked. I filed for divorce the day I found out. My last relationship started about a year after the divorce was final. It didn't last very long. He was the most narcissistic person I've ever met. Everything was about him. He spent more time in front of mirrors the first month we were together than I have my entire life. Eventually, I got fed up and left. I don't think he noticed I was gone."
"I don't do drugs, I will never cheat on you, and I only use mirrors when driving, shaving, or combing my hair," I reply.
"Good. Then we won't have any problems we can't deal with."
Our breakfast arrives and we both dig in, suddenly aware that we are starving. Half way through the meal, Jenna puts her fork down, sits up straight and opens her eyes wide. Forming a perfect 'O' with her mouth, she raises her fingers to her lips.
"I just realized that I forgot to wear panties when I got dressed this morning," she announces with a small smile and then returns her attention to her breakfast.
I immediately lose interest in mine as visions of returning to her room for sex enter my mind.
It is not to be.
"I packed while you were at your place so I'm ready to check out. When we're finished with breakfast, you can wait for me in the lobby and then we'll drop my suitcase off at your car before we head to the Market," she says, leaving little room for argument.
"That'll work," I reply, doing a good job of hiding my disappointment.
As Jenna is checking out, Shelly and Barbara appear beside her at the counter. The three of them have a brief conversation and then exchange phone numbers while I stand guard over Jenna's suitcase. I am pleased. I like both women and have a sense that they may become part of our lives in the future.
Thirty minutes later Jenna and I arrive at Pike Place Market. We've both been there many times, but not recently, so we spend an hour or so poking around in the shops. Nothing ever seems to change in the Market, which is good because I am acutely aware that Jenna is only wearing three articles of clothing and two of them are her sandals. I try to think about something else but I'm not very successful.
Leaving the Market, we wander along the waterfront for another hour. Like yesterday, I am thrilled to be with her, only more so. Things have changed between us in a most gratifying way.
I sneak a peek at my watch and get caught.
"Going somewhere?" she asks, an innocent smile on her face.
"Not without you. Would you like to see my place now?" I ask, hopefully.
"Oh, I suppose," she replies, feigning indifference.
It is about a mile back to the parking garage where we left our cars. We both know what's going to happen when we get to my condo, so we walk quickly. Even so, I am just barely able to hold my impatience in check. By the time we get to the garage I have to fight the urge to break into a trot. Fifteen minutes later I pull into my parking space at the condo. It is one o'clock when I finally insert my key into the lock, Jenna's suitcase trailing behind me.
My place is a twelve hundred square foot piece of a huge loft on the top floor of what was once an industrial building. I bought it when I first returned to Seattle and have never regretted the decision. It was pricey, and I'm nowhere near having it paid off, but I can see the Space Needle, many of the downtown buildings, a generous portion of Puget Sound, and the Olympic Mountains in the distance. Mine is an end unit, so I have views on three sides. The very center of the place contains an efficient galley kitchen, a spacious bathroom, and some storage space. Everything else is out in the open with only fixed low dividers separating one living area from another.
"Wow!" Jenna exclaims as she glances about. "I pictured some sort of man cave."
"Suitable for a troglodyte?"
"Exactly," she replies with a grin.
I am, in fact, something of a neatnik. Oriental rugs occupy appropriate places on the polished hardwood floors. The walls are painted architectural white and I rely heavily on plants, hanging and otherwise, for decoration. A few carefully selected photographs and paintings adorn those walls and my furnishings are relatively sparse, a combination of contemporary and antique pieces. There is little clutter.
I take her on a tour. She is fascinated by the views. The three exterior walls enjoy multiple ten-foot high windows that start about eighteen inches up from the floor. Only the wall separating my place from the hallway and the neighbors lacks windows. I save the sleeping area for last. The king-sized bed faces the water and the mountains.
When we arrive there, Jenna walks over to one of the windows, takes in the view for a few moments, and then turns to face me.
"Take off my dress and fuck me," she orders as she kicks free of her sandals and releases her hair from its ponytail. "Don't be gentle about it."
The sundress is easy. I simply pull it up over her head and cast it aside. Jenna helps me strip off my clothes and we tumble onto the bed together. A sense of urgency takes over and I enter her quickly and easily.
I pound her hard right from the beginning. A minute or so later she cums with a series of sharp yelps, her contractions nearly pulling me over the edge. I keep most of my weight on knees and elbows while she recovers. Finally, her breathing returns to something near normal.
"So much for round one," she announces as she pushes me aside and gets out of bed when I withdraw. "Come here."
When I arrive at her side, she turns away from me and kneels on the edge of the bed with her legs wide apart.
"Fuck me again," she orders as she lowers her torso to the mattress, her wishes clear. "I love this position."
I love it too. Its sole purpose is to enable pure, raw, powerful sex.
For the second time in five minutes I enter her easily and pick up where I left off, immediately slamming into her with heavy, thudding strokes. I have excellent leverage standing behind her with my hands clasping her hips. Jenna lets out an unintelligible sound in response to the sensations I am evoking.
The sound of my body slapping into her perfect round ass mingles with her sharp cries of pleasure as she claws at the sheets and rockets upward towards an orgasm we both know is going to shake the building to its foundation. I hope she goes over the top soon because I am about to lose control.
Suddenly, Jenna grasps a pillow, stuffs a corner into her mouth, and lets out a muffled shriek. Her pussy clamps rhythmically around my cock as I explode into her with a primal roar, my knees nearly buckling from the shock waves of her orgasm and my own powerful ejaculations.
"Oh God," she murmurs as she disengages from my dripping cock and falls forward onto the bed. I drop into position beside her and pull her close. We remain that way for several long minutes before Jenna begins to stir. Sitting upright, she makes an announcement.
"I need to use your bathroom and I'm starving to death."
"Everything you might need is in the linen closet just outside the bathroom."
"I'll be right back," she says as she snatches her sundress off the floor. "Where is my suitcase?"
"I left it right by the front door," I reply.
She's back in a few minutes, looking nothing like a woman who has just experienced two crushing orgasms. I take my turn in the bathroom.
Minutes later, both of us dressed once again, we head for the front door.
We enjoy a late lunch and then decide to take in a movie. On the walk to the theater I tell her that the wall separating my condo from the neighbors is nearly a foot thick.
"So I can make all the noise I want when we have sex?"
"Good. If you'll be kind enough to take care of me orally tonight, I'll show you just how much noise I can make and then return the favor," she adds with a radiant smile.
And that is exactly what happens.
Jenna has to leave early the next morning. She has more than an hour's journey to Olympia. I drive her to the parking garage and we share a lingering kiss before she departs.
I have a busy week with my new job and Jenna has several surgeries scheduled. Because of distance and brutal traffic we don't try to get together during the week but we talk at length on the phone every night, both of us looking forward to a weekend we know is going to be sensational.
One of the many good things about my new job is that I don't work weekends unless one of the cold cases suddenly gets hot. Jenna's practice is only open five days a week. As a result, we get to spend nearly every weekend together, either at her place or mine. She has a small but classy house on the outskirts of Olympia. Her house sits on a large lot, so the neighbors are too far away to hear her when she gets vocal. I spend a lot of time making her get vocal.
As I suspected, Shelly and Barbara soon become our friends. They both live in Tacoma so we see them frequently enough to keep the friendship humming along. We are told that Shelly and her husband are in the midst of amicable divorce proceedings and that the two women intend to move in together soon.
Occasionally Jenna and I cross the Cascade Mountains to explore eastern Washington. I am still interested in a small town police force while she is beginning to think about opening her own practice.
Eventually we meet each other's families. My parents remember Jenna as a teenager and fall in love with her immediately. Her folks seem to take a shine to me as well. Before long we have an opportunity to get both sets of parents together and they quickly form a bond, soon becoming good friends rather than just the neighboring apartment dwellers they had been many years earlier.
Jenna and I are good together in every way and both of us believe our relationship will endure. There is nothing to indicate otherwise.
Friday, September 13, 2013, 5:15 PM
Thank God it's Friday; the end of another work week for Jenna and for me. I grab my hat off the rack and head for the door.
"See you in a couple of weeks Chief. Congratulations and enjoy your trip," calls out Deborah, my tough-as-nails administrative assistant who has run the office with an iron fist for more than twenty years.
"Thanks Deb," I reply. "Keep the guys in line," I add with a grin.
"You can count on it Boss."
I have been the police chief for the town of Darby, Washington for a little over a year. Darby is a medium sized town about half way between Wenatchee and Chelan on U. S. Route 97. The town has a population of fewer than fifteen thousand souls. The crime rate is low and my fifty-five uniformed officers do a good job of keeping it that way.
I love the job. Darby is a good place to live and work. My pension from the Seattle Police Department was portable so, other than a tiny reduction in monthly pay, the move cost me very little and it has been well worth it.
Jenna greets me at the door with a kiss. She's been home for several hours. She has her own practice now and, as the boss, she has decreed that Fridays are half days unless an emergency crops up. The one other doctor, a veteran named Karen Welch who worked with her at Swedish, appreciates the extra time off as does the small office staff that gets paid for a forty hour week even with Friday afternoons off. Jenna and Karen perform a full range of services and the practice is growing. Adding a third doctor may soon be on the horizon.
We are getting married on Sunday in the back yard of the stately Victorian house we bought after Jenna sold her place in Olympia. We are keeping my Seattle condo, at least for the time being, because we love the city and spend at least one weekend a month there, often catching up with Shelly and Barbara for lunch or dinner.
The wedding will be small; family and close friends only. Karen and my Assistant Chief will be in attendance. Jenna's parents and mine drove over together yesterday. My sister and her husband arrive today with my niece and nephew. All are staying at our house. We have plenty of room.
Amanda Nichols, Jenna's college roommate, and Mike Bailey arrived yesterday as well. Amanda will be Jenna's maid of honor while Mike will serve as my best man. Both have been divorced for more than a year and we noticed immediate chemistry between them last night at dinner. They are staying at a local hotel and Jenna informs me, with a wink and a smile, that she hasn't seen or heard from either one of them so far today.
Shelly and Barbara will arrive tomorrow and have booked a room in the same hotel. If they follow their normal tendency toward noisy sexual encounters in hotel rooms, and if Amanda and Mike are doing what she believes they've been doing, Jenna thinks the hotel may never recover.
All told, maybe a dozen people will observe as Jenna and I tie the knot.
We are taking our honeymoon in Hawaii, flying out of Seattle on Monday afternoon. Neither of us has ever been there and we plan to make the most of it. Jenna has informed me that we'll do the tourist stuff during the day and fuck our brains out at night; perhaps with a quickie once in a while just for a some variety. Even though we've been together for a little over three years now, none of our passion for each other has abated in the slightest.
And we intend to keep it that way.
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May 6, 2018 in romance