My Loving Family Ch 11

Synopsis: Ian fixes Peter up with a blind date. Peter is stunned when he discovers that Sarah is Ian's date. Nevertheless, he manages to rationalize away his jealous feelings and has a very satisfactory session with Willa (Sarah's house mate).

Part III -- Our Story

Chapter Eleven

It must have been much later -- I had no idea what time -- when I woke to find myself sleeping with my arm around a warm, soft body, my hand cupping a full breast. I was momentarily confused, thinking at first that I was back in Ft. Resolution, and that my bedmate was Moonface Nelly. Then I remembered the peculiar turn of events the previous night when, quite unexpectedly, I had found myself fucking Sarah's friend, Willa.

As my memory came flooding back, I realized suddenly that if Sarah knew what I had done with Willa, I could kiss any hope of a future relationship with her goodbye. Of all the dumb things I had ever done -- and there was a long list of dumb things to choose from -- bedding Willa had to be near the top of the list!

I didn't know whether Sarah had returned to the apartment but I couldn't afford to take any chances. As carefully as possible, I disentangled myself from Willa's lush body, and slipped quietly out of bed. Then I crawled around to Willa's side, and by the dim glow of a night light, found my shirt, pants, shoes and one sock.

I didn't take the time to search for my underwear or the other sock. Instead, I crept to the door, dragging my clothes behind me, quietly opened it, and escaped into the living room where I quickly dressed, found my coat, and feeling like a burglar, slipped out of the apartment.

Once on the street, I began walking toward the cluster of bright lights on the horizon. I suppose I must have walked a mile or more -- I know I raised a hell of a blister on my right foot -- the one without a sock -- before a cruising cab came down the empty street.

When I heard it approaching, I stepped out into the street and flagged it down. When the driver saw how disheveled I looked, he grinned knowingly. "Looks like her husband came home early," he said.

I grunted some sort of noncommittal response and gave him the name of my hotel. In less than five minutes, he pulled up in front of the brightly lit entrance. According to the clock over the registration desk, it was 3:30 in the morning.

I quickly walked through the deserted lobby, entered an open elevator, and soon was back in my room and my own bed. Only then did I remember that I had forgotten my necktie! I was sure, if Sarah saw it, that she would recognize it. I might as well have left a note. I tried to remember if it was in the living room or (hopefully) in Willa's bedroom. With that dismal thought in mind, I drifted off to sleep.

Promptly at 7:00, the telephone rang. It was the desk clerk making my wake-up call. Two hours later, I was back in Mr. Bose's office shaking hands again with Ian. Surreptitiously, I studied his face and demeanor, looking for clues that might reveal how and where he had spent the night. All I saw, however, was a clean shaven young man, at least ten years my junior, who was excited about catching a noon flight to Toronto on the first leg of his return trip to London.

The morning session lasted only an hour and half. Then we shook hands all around and said our farewells. Ian left to return to his hotel. I made a beeline to the lobby where I found a pay phone and quickly dialed Sarah's number, waiting with a mixture of dread and anticipation for her to pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sarah," I said, "this is Pete. Are we on for tonight, I hope?"

We quickly settled on a time to meet at Brown's restaurant. I had the rest of the afternoon to kill, so I popped into a movie theater where I spent a couple of hours enjoying a spritely musical. Then I returned to my hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon organizing my papers and jotting notes to myself concerning the negotiations I had been involved in. Finally, I showered and made myself presentable.

I still hadn't decided how to reconcile the deep feelings I had for Sarah with her dating Ian, much less my own behavior with Willa -- or Cynthia the night before. I didn't try to sugarcoat that. I had been ambushed by the Boses, but I had gone quite willingly with Willa to their apartment, knowing full well what was likely to happen once we were inside the door. Frankly, I was both guilt stricken and remorseful when I met Sarah that evening.

As usual, Sarah was stunning in both her dress and style, but I was scarcely aware of it because I was too busy trying to read whatever inscrutable message lay behind her sparkling green eyes. I was immeasurably relieved, therefore, when Sarah greeted me with an enthusiastic hug and a warm kiss. "I'm really selfish, Pete. I'm so glad to have you all to myself this evening!"

This was not the reproachful Sarah I had feared. My relief must have been tangible, because as we walked side by side to a table near the corner of the cocktail lounge, she put her arm around my waist and gave me a special little hug as if to reassure me. At that moment, I knew I was going to ask Sarah to marry me.

Later that evening, instead of going to the Cave again, we decided to have a nightcap in the hotel lounge. I was lost in thought, trying to think of a tactful way of declaring myself that would not require a definitive reply from her -- frankly, I was suddenly terrified of a flat rejection because I knew things between us would never, ever, be the same again.

She broke the silence. She reached across the little cocktail table and took my right hand between hers. "Something's on your mind, Pete. Maybe I can help?"

Glumly, I nodded. "I . . .I don't exactly know how to say this . . ." I began.

She interrupted me. "Pete, if it's about last night . . .?"

"No, dear," -- the endearment slipped out unbidden --

"Is it Ian, then?"

"I don't know," I said. "I think it's about a lot of things because. . I'm just finding out how much I really care for you!"

Her eyes softened. Her grip on my hand tightened. "That's the nicest, most flattering thing I've heard in a long, long time." She paused, then continued, "Because I'm beginning to feel the same way about you!"

I felt almost faint with relief. One part of me wanted to stand on the table and loudly share my good fortune with the other customers in the room. Another part wanted to take Sarah tenderly, lovingly, in my arms and kiss every part of her treasured face; her lips, her nose, her cheeks, even her precious eyelids. Instead, I tightly gripped her two slender hands between mine, and I felt tears burning in my eyes.

"Let's get married," I blurted.

Her happy face became suddenly still, almost solemn. "It's way too early to talk about marriage, Pete. There are things we have yet to find out about each other. At least, there are things about me that you don't know and that I don't know how to explain."

Is she secretly married to someone else? Is she suffering a fatal disease? What can it be? Just then the waitress interrupted us and I ordered another round. Thankful for the temporary distraction, which gave me an opportunity to gather my thoughts, I turned back to her. "Darling, if you feel just a small part of the attraction I feel for you, there is nothing --nothing at all -- that we can't work out!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Sarah replied. I heard the bitterness in her tone. Oh, oh. Something is wrong!

"It's a long story," Sarah continued, "and one I'm sure will cause you to change your mind about me. You see, Pete, everything is not how it appears on the surface."

"If you're talking about Ian . . ." I said. "Ian is just a small part of the problem . . ." she began. But again I interrupted her.

I felt myself flushing with deep seated emotions, and answered more heatedly than I intended. "I don't understand," I said. "I mean, if you screwed Ian, so what? I screwed Willa." My God! What did I just say?

Instead of recoiling in horror, Sarah smiled sadly. "I know you did," she said quietly. "That's the way we planned it."

"What??"

"Oh, God, how can I explain so you'll understand and not hate me?" she said, almost despairingly.

"Explain what?"

"All right, you asked for it! I've never told this to anyone before!" Then she told me about Graham and Nonnie, and how she had been seduced on the train, and how it became easier and easier for her to meet and have sex with casual acquaintances until, she concluded, "After fifteen years of casual sex, I realized that sex, for me, had become a drug; one to which I was (and am) addicted.

"I have to be honest with you, Pete. I think I'll always crave variety in my sex partners. That's why marriage for me is out of the question. I could never be faithful to one man!"

I was literally stunned. I simply didn't know how to respond. It had never occurred to me that sex could be addictive. I must have been very obvious in my reaction to her explanation -- I was going to say "confession," but to me, a person who confesses something is implying remorse. There was no remorse is Sarah's passionate explanation.

While I was searching for a suitable response, Sarah added, "What about you, Pete? Before you get all righteous, what about you and Willa? I'm sure there have been other women as well since your Amy left you."

Despite myself, remembering how I had crept out of Willa's bed, I found myself nodding. "Did you set that up?"

"Not exactly," Sarah replied. "I didn't know you were going to spend the night in our apartment. That could have been awkward if I had brought Ian home, too." I thought I saw a glimmer of a smile in her eyes as she spoke, and I'll admit I had to smile at the idea of meeting Ian in their kitchen this morning, drinking a cup of coffee.

"You're putting a heavy load on me, dear, but since we're laying our cards on the table, I might as well tell you how I spend Monday night." Then I described the evening I had spent the previous night in the Bose penthouse, except I didn't feel obliged to tell her about "Roscoe's" peculiar behavior. "Let's not waste any more time, Pete," Sarah said. "Let's go upstairs. I'd invite you to the apartment, but the girls will be there tonight, and even without them, I'd guess you might feel a trifle inhibited when you saw Willa."

Later, as we were lying on our backs, holding hands while stretched full length on the bed, Sarah turned her head and kissed my ear. "Do you hate me, Pete?"

"God, no!" I said. "It's just that I'm still trying to sort things out."

She released my hand, and cupped her hand around my shrunken, sticky cock and scrotum. "At least Junior, here, didn't seem very upset." When she touched me, she triggered an altogether strange reaction. "Just out of curiosity, dear, how many . . .?"

"How many men?" As she spoke, I felt the faint stirrings of arousal. "Yes. Do you have any idea?"

"Not really. I haven't thought about it. They were almost all one-night stands. It would be several hundred, I expect. What's this?"

Her gentle hand had felt my cock twitch at the thought of her lying naked, legs in the air, under a faceless multitude of men strenuously giving as much as she got. "Don't tell me it excites you to think of me with other men . . ."

Somewhat ashamed by my involuntary reaction, I silently nodded.

Sarah hoisted herself up on one elbow so she could peer into my face. "You're taking this better than I thought you would," she said. Then she added, with a sly little smile, "Maybe when I know you better I'll tell you some bedtime stories."

My cock really jumped at that promise. Sarah softly laughed and reached down to bestow a soft kiss on my cock. "That's going to have to hold you until next time, lover," she said, adding with another little smile, "I haven't been getting much sleep lately. I've got to go home." She slipped off the bed, quickly dressed, kissed me on the end of my nose, and was gone.

All the way back to Ft. Resolution, my mind was so completely preoccupied trying to sort out my relationship with Sarah, that the conductor had to ask three times for my ticket before I heard him. My new briefcase, bulging with copies of the papers our long meetings had produced, lay forgotten in the overhead rack.

Sarah had left no doubt in my mind about her ability -- or willingness -- to forsake all others, to use the quaint language customary at wedding ceremonies. But neither had she rejected my proposal out of hand. The door was still open -- on her terms.

The only question confronting me was whether I could accept those terms. On the one hand, I remembered the agonies I had suffered when I first began to suspect that Amy was cheating, and the black despair that had enveloped me when she actually ran away with her latest lover.

On the other hand, the circumstances were entirely different. I was no longer an idealistic youngster with entirely unrealistic expectations. Also, Sarah was entirely unlike Amy in virtually every way. One day perhaps, with luck and the wisdom born of experience, Amy might acquire the maturity and inner beauty that Sarah possessed in such great abundance, although now, in the harsh light of remembered small deficiencies, it seemed likely that she lacked the necessary intelligence and character. And there was, in addition, a certain compelling eroticism about my mental image of Sarah's couplings with faceless strangers. I even wondered, for a moment, if she would ever let me watch her fuck other men?

Jack and I spend a day with our lawyer in Ft. Resolution reviewing the various proposals and stipulations contained in the papers I had brought back for Jack's approval. One issue regarding a required easement that we were evidently obliged to negotiate for a road to the mine across Crown lands seemed ambiguous, so our lawyer felt obliged to call and resolve the question with counsel for the London investors. Once that point was clarified, Jack and I signed the relevant documents, and sent the originals to Winnipeg for an endorsement by Bose, Rothchild before being sent on to London.

A month later, we each received cheques for £20,000 as an advance against royalties. After paying our debts, Jack and I celebrated for three days, at the end of which I was sick, tired, and feeling like hell, but we still had money in the bank -- over $18,000 apiece.

Jack and I shook hands for the last time at the train depot, and I boarded the train to Winnipeg. One chapter of my life had closed and I was opening the first page of an entirely new chapter.

Sarah and Nonnie met me at the train station. For the first time, seeing them standing side by side, I realized how similar they were in size, coloring, and general physical appearance. They looked much more like twin sisters than mother and daughter.

I had called Sarah when the money had arrived from London, and had told her I was returning to Winnipeg; that my prospecting days were over and that Jack and I had dissolved our partnership. Then I had called her a second time during our three-day celebration and again asked her to marry me. I only vaguely remembered making that call, but somehow her reply had stuck in my memory. "Ask me again when you're sober," she had said.

And I had, shortly before boarding the train. Her answer was still evasive, however. "We'll talk about it when you get here," she had said.

Consequently, I had managed to work myself into a fine state of mind when, at last, the train had pulled into the station in Winnipeg. I had not expected her to meet me, much less to bring Nonnie with her. Suddenly the significance of them coming to meet me became crystal clear! We were a family! She was saying "yes!!"

I dropped my bag and sprinted the last 100 feet like a teenager, gathering both women at once in my arms and indiscriminately kissing them both. Sarah's lips tasted salty from the tears on her cheek, and Nonnie quickly, and with teenage embarrassment, disentangled herself and went back to retrieve my bag while her mother and I welcomed one another with a quick series of wet, open mouthed kisses.

It's always possible, of course, that part of the salty taste was from my own emotional response to her dramatic acceptance. Nevertheless, I was mildly embarrassed when I realized that my body was reacting in quite a different way as I tasted once again, the flavors of her mouth and lips. My cock was beginning to swell.

Sarah felt it. She released my neck and leaned back in my arms so she could study my face. This thrust her pelvis and lower belly hard against me. Then, slowly, she swung her hips back and forth and happily grinned, "You really are glad to see me, aren't you?"

"I sure am," I said as I pulled her slender body close to mine again. This time, however, I realized we were blocking traffic, so I released her. Hand in hand, we walked with the crowd toward Nonnie, who was waiting for us at the gate, my duffle bag over her shoulder.

"I'll bet you're hungry," Sarah said as she expertly swung her car out into the traffic. "Would you like to eat? Or can you wait until we get to the apartment?"

Whoa! "Who said anything about going to your apartment?"

A rosy flush crossed Sarah's face. "I guess I just assumed. . ."

I was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It's just that you've had time to get used to the idea that we'll have a life together, while for me, it's a brand new idea. Of course, if you want me to come to your apartment, I'm more than willing. I'm easily led!" I was watching her profile as she maneuvered through the downtown traffic. When she turned to look at me, I smiled to show my willingness to follow her lead.

"I hope you're not saying that just to be polite. . ."

"Not at all, dear. I guess because I wouldn't have been bold enough to suggest it, I was surprised that you did. I assume, of course, that we're both talking about the same thing?"

"About you coming to live with us? Of course. Why waste money on hotel bills? We've come this far. Let's see how much further we can go. I'm assuming, of course, that you intend to make an honest woman of me?"

"As soon as possible, dear," I said. "Win, lose or draw, we're in this together for the long haul. There is one tiny little problem, however."

"Oooh?"

"I never divorced Amy. I have no idea where she is, or even if she's still alive. I think I'd better see a lawyer about that before we apply for a marriage license."

"I suppose, in a way, you're right, but why complicate things? Can't we just pretend you never met her?"

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. But . . .," I paused, trying to organize what I was going to say next ". . .suppose the mine really begins to pay off big time. Amy's got relatives in the Yellowknife District. Some of them may be in touch with her. We don't want her showing up to demand a share of it, or if I were to get shot by a jealous husband, I sure as hell wouldn't want two widows fighting over my estate!"

"I see your point." Sarah turned to look at me and smiled as if to say, 'I really do understand.' "I'll ask around at work tomorrow for a good domestic relations lawyer. I'm sure some of the girls will know of one."

Willa and Ruth were out shopping when we arrived at the apartment. Nonnie carried my bag into her mother's room, while we paused in the middle of the living room to exchange a hug and a kiss. "It's going to be so good to have a man around the house," Sarah whispered into my mouth, while her naughty little hand groped the front on my pants.

Nonnie had been watching from the doorway. When she saw her mother fondle my growing cock, she reacted with typical teenage disgust. "Come on, mother (with heavy emphasis on the last syllable), at least let the poor guy sit down! You know what he's got down there -- if you can remember, that is!"