Authors Note: this isn't a 'quick jerk piece, it has character development and story-telling, but it does have sex scenes.
The incessant WHAP WHAP WHAP of the wipers on his truck were driving him crazy. It wasn't really the sound or even the rain itself that grated on his nerves, it was the ocean of glowing brake lights as far as the eye could see that set him on edge. He was a man that hated being trapped, no escape route, surrounded.
Part was ingrained in him almost from birth – growing up in a place that was as notorious for its crushing poverty as it was for its gratuitous violence. Part was his training. On paper he had been a regular Air Force grunt, in reality he was trained in special operations. Years later, his AF career ancient history, he was employed in one of the 'intelligence agencies'. He was no longer directly involved in clandestine activities; his work product supported the younger agents just starting out in the field. His job was normally high-stress – his colleagues fairly frequently being hauled off in an ambo with stress-induced heart attacks and assorted ailments.
He had always been a rock at work, the one that always saw an operation through, never cracked, and never succumbed to the stress. Today had nearly undone him; it had been the absolute worst day of his life at the NID. An op had gone horribly wrong. No one was to blame. Sometimes it happens. Every agent knew it was an occupational hazard when they joined. But today, a young agent had breathed his last behind the wheel of a beater car on a back street of Turkmenistan. Another nameless star to go on the wall.
Today was his 50th birthday. He pondered the end of the young agent's life, and said his own version of a prayer for his eternal soul, sitting there in the never-ending traffic jam just outside DC. He began to take stock of his life. Here was a man that had reached the half-century mark, a man that never expected to live past 35. Beyond his military career and his career at the NID – the two most influential forces on his life had been his motorcycles, and his wives.
He'd had multiple motorcycles throughout the years – he still had his '05 Road King sitting in the garage – dormant way too long for a man like him. Riding provided the freedom and space he needed in the same way you and I need water and air. Rain, sleet, burning sun, long hours, hard saddles, sand and gravel – all things that would make a wannabe run thrilled him – he'd meet the challenge and overcome it. Adventure is adversity recalled at leisure was one of his favorite sayings - and it made for some great road stories.
He'd had multiple wives through the years too – he'd had three in his 50 years. Well, two of them were past tense, and one was present. They had been, in order – Judith, Polly, and Angelina.
Judith had been his first love, the love of the end of his teen years and through college. Angelina often said Judith was the 'love of his life' – and for many years that had been true, though now after almost a decade with Angelina, his view on that was changing. Being with Judith had been all fire and passion, and the ensuing drama – it burned hot and it burned bright, but it burned itself out after only a few years. The end of the marriage devastated him in every way, and encased his heart in ice. No one would believe under that silent stern exterior lay one of the most sensitive souls to walk the earth. He wouldn't allow anyone to see it, much less get close enough to it to hurt him again.
Polly had come into his life when he'd licked some of the wounds inflicted by Judith. She offered comfort, solace, stability, peace, and domestic harmony. She was a good woman, they had similar childhood backgrounds, and she'd never found true and lasting love. Polly offered him a chance to 'reboot' his life emotionally, financially, and professionally after his divorce. They had a great love for one another, but it was never the love of romance and passion and heat. She was the Ying to Judith's Yang. Polly offered him all the stability Judith never could; but not the passion. Polly was exactly what he needed at that time in his life. Polly was much older than he, and in frail health for some time. Her condition declined steadily soon after they married. Luckily, she understood he was a young virile man and she'd never held conventional notions of marriage. Sexual monogamy was never part of their vows, spoken or unspoken. He had a lot of freedom – that freedom that he needed – this was not a man who could be caged or leashed.
Angelina – how does one explain his relationship with Angelina. The relationship that never should have happened. The relationship that if not for a casual passing would never have happened. They met on a ride – a large group ride at which they never even spoke- until after. They were to be 'fuck buddies' – he was married and she was fairly recently out of a relationship and still licking her wounds. Over time they both began to realize they liked each other as people, not just enjoyed the burning lust that drove them to meet in out-of-the-way hotels for an afternoon of sex that improved and deepened over time rather than faltering into boredom as they had expected.
