I want to start by advising everyone that this truly is a "saga", defined as a long, involved story, account, or series of incidents.
The events in this story all happened as described, although they did not involve one couple as they do here. The story is long, contains a lot of detail and dialog, and smidgens of humor. Sexual activities are inferred, but left up to the readers' imaginations for the most part.
I had not intended to submit an entry into the Valentine's Day contest, but since I finished this one before the deadline, I figured, "Why not?"
Your votes will likely answer that question. Enjoy.
Chapter One
As the saying goes, "Once a cheater, always a cheater."
I never gave that axiom much credence where Samantha and I were concerned, because, although we were both married to other people, neither of us had cheated on our spouses when we first got involved with each other.
My wife at the time that I met Samantha was a stay at home mom for our two kids. Linda had dropped out of high school and never held any sort of job. Her parents were both alcoholics, so to get her out of a dysfunctional home environment I found a small studio apartment and she moved in with me. I worked two and sometimes three jobs while attending college classes, saving money for tuition and our future.
In retrospect, I don't think I ever loved Linda so much as I felt a need to take care of her. Being responsible for someone other than myself grounded me at a time in my life when I needed to be more focused to make something of my life. Linda was fun to be with and devoted to me at the time, but I came to also question whether she had ever actually been in love with me or just loved being taken care of.
For the first five years of our marriage, she suffered from agoraphobia, or "fear of the marketplace", and she would only leave the house if I went with her. Our son, Bryce, was born ten months after we had been married. He wasn't planned, but we had no regrets. Four and a half years later, our daughter was born. She had been planned, almost down to the date of her delivery. I had a vasectomy six months after Paige's birth.
Linda didn't have a driver's license and her fear of leaving the house alone meant that I had to take off from work or classes to come home to take her or the kids to things like doctor appointments.
Shortly after our tenth anniversary, I was recruited to join a well-known Japanese company, which among other things, manufactured components for many of the largest computer and system integration companies around the world. They wanted me to join their team of engineers responsible for supporting major customer accounts. I was responsible for a large geographic area that included Hawaii. While I had an office in Southern California, I was seldom in it due to the extensive amount of travel that my position required.
The pay and benefits were exceptional and my need to travel two to three times each month forced Linda to come out of her shell more and more so that the kid's schooling and social lives didn't suffer. I was even able to talk her into taking the few classes required for her to receive her GED. I bought her a car as motivation for her to get her driver's license and it worked.
Within just a couple of years, I had been promoted to become the National Manager of Engineering Support, essentially replacing my boss when he moved up in the organization. My travels increased and frequently included international destinations such as Japan, Europe, and various South American countries. Linda had developed an inner ear disorder called Meniere's syndrome, which prevented her from flying, so we never had the opportunity to share any of these destinations, and she categorically refused to let the kids fly without her.
~~~
The limited time that I spent in my Southern California office was typically devoted to administrative tasks and meetings with other department managers. Since I traveled more than anyone else in this company location, my fellow managers would typically come to my office for meetings to make things more convenient during my short stints there.
Needing to review floorplans in one manager's office related to some proposed changes to the building that might affect my office space, I agreed to go to his office to meet with him there. His office door was closed, but I saw who I assumed was his administrative assistant standing on a chair, trying to hang a banner above a doorway congratulating someone for some work-related accomplishment.
I only saw her from the rear, but what a rear it was. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that complimented her slender figure as it went halfway down her calves, and what appeared to be an off-white colored silk blouse. It was a professional outfit, complete with nude pantyhose or stockings and conservative two-inch high heels.
Before I could cough, clear my throat, or do anything else to get her attention, the heel of one of her shoes caught along the piping of the chair's cushion, and she lost her balance. I made the two quick strides necessary for me to reach her just as she fell back into my arms.
She gasped as she fell, and gasped again as she fell into me. I gently positioned her so that she could stand safely on the floor and quickly stepped back to allow her to turn around. When she did, I expected to see an expression of embarrassment, but saw one of annoyance instead.
"Thanks, but your help wasn't really necessary," she said.
Her voice reminded me of laughter even though her expression was so serious. There was no discernable accent, but it reminded me of the lilt often heard from an Irish lass. It was melodic and I instantly wanted to hear more of it. And what was that perfume she was wearing? It was intoxicating.
"I just reacted on instinct," I replied. "I couldn't let you just fall to the floor."
"Oh, I wouldn't have fallen. I've caught myself three times already today."
She appeared to be in her late twenties with medium brunette hair that rested in curls on her shoulders. Her sparkling, dark blue eyes had a natural gleam that reflected any light present, even when she wasn't smiling. Her glory was her face. Her features are so perfect that she didn't have to enhance them with makeup, yet what make-up she did wear was understated and as professional as the rest of her appearance. She had a striking shape with elegant curves as if she was the blueprint for how a woman was supposed to be put together.
I extended my hand and said, "In that case, let me help you climb back onto the chair. I'll just stand by until you're done if you don't mind."
She took my hand and used her other to lift her skirt enough to bend a leg so that she could place that foot onto the chair cushion. She raised her skirt high enough up her thigh that I could establish that she was wearing pantyhose and not stockings.
Without saying anything, she once again returned her focus to the banner. Instinct took over again as I saw her waver backward slightly and my right hand found itself on the small of her back, just above the waistband of her skirt. She glanced down at me but didn't complain or comment before finishing her task.
"You can help me down now if you want."
I extended my hand to her, which she took in one of hers as she placed her other hand on my shoulder and stepped down from the chair.
"Thanks again," she said. "Are you here to see Mr. Allen or just to rescue clumsy women?"
"I'm here to see Joe. He's expecting me."
