This is the first chapter of a story. 18K+ words. This chapter is meant for character development and set up. There are graphic sexual scenes described here in. All sex is between consenting adults older than 18 years old. I wrote this for my enjoyment. I hope that you enjoy the reading of it. If you are an anonymous troll looking to nit pick the story don't waste your time or mine. Please leave feedback good or bad. This is my first effort at writing, please be kind. I am looking to improve as time goes on. Thank you
The Hunter
I grew up in a rural setting. As a child my nearest neighbor was ~1 mile away. My nearest neighbor with kids was about 2 miles away, needless to say until I was in school I was socially distanced (LOL). I got a.22 pellet gun when I was 8, a Crossman 10 pump single shot. I stalked and killed a variety of birds, squirrels, other small targets of opportunity. When I was 12 I got my first real gun, a.22 caliber Mossberg bolt action, it has a seven shot clip (adjustable for either short, medium or long rifle bullets) as well as adjustable iron sights. Squirrels, rabbits, and other small game were put on notice.
Growing up it was mostly my mother along with a growing litter of half siblings along with occasional step-dad. My mom, bless her heart, hated being lonely, but her picker was broke. She couldn't pick a man worth a damn if her life depended on it. I will always remember the first time mom let me take the car out. As she handed me the keys, she stated IF your old enough to fuck'em, then your old enough to marry them. I had never heard her use the F bomb before. I don't know if she used it for effect or if she felt that strong about it, but it stuck.
My biological father was absent, and I first met him when my grandmother passed (when I was seventeen). After my introduction, we had a hit and miss type of relationship, mainly miss since I lived 1500 miles away.
I had quite a number of acquaintances but few friends high school, but the friends I had, I would go to war with. The school I attended my freshman year was about 90% white segregation was happening next year, school mandated bussing, and all that great stuff. I was going upstairs to the library and turn in my books at the end of the year, when a young man of a different race knocked my books out of my arms. He stood over and with a snarl on his face stated that if I wasn't a scared pussy to come on out to the football stadium after school. Well I wasn't a scared pussy so I along with four of my friends took him up on his offer. We stopped by the bicycle rack and borrowed a chain or two. I really had no race issues. I gave respect and expected respect back in return. I really have no idea, to this day, what prompted the melee, however, when the fight was over, me and my buddies all had angle food cake cutters in our back pockets. We had them in our back pockets on the first day of school the following year and didn't have race problems the rest of the year....Another time, my friend Rick had a girlfriend in a neighboring town. She was a waitress at a local Diner that closed late at night. We were sitting around drinking beer and smoking some weed when he got a call. There was a customer that was harassing her. She had talked to the cook about it and he wouldn't take up for her. She was crying and was pretty upset. We loaded up and about 25 minutes later we walked into the joint and sat at the bar. Upon entry she looked at us and we subtly shook our heads, we wanted to see first-hand what was going on. The guy kept asking for things (new fork, more water, another napkin, etc.) each time Melody went to his booth, he tried and sometimes succeeded in feeling her up. After the second time, Rick was boiling. When he made his move, Scotty and James went to the back to talk to the cook and me and Rick approached the douche bag and attempted to educate him on proper dining etiquette. Well one thing led to another and we ended our discussion in the parking lot. He had several bones broken in his hand and a couple of broken ribs, along with the obligatory busted lip and black eye. Come to find out, the douche bag was the son of some local town royalty. Thanks to some local people that were in the diner willing to speak on our behalf and had no love for the douche bag we were asked to leave town and not come back, which we gladly complied.
I was more of a party animal but from time to time hormones kicked in and the pursuit of female companionship became my focus. I had a steady girlfriend my last year in high school, our make out sessions were special and heated. It got to the point where her mom had a sit down with me to point out that my girlfriend did not have to get pregnant to get married. I agreed with her and with a wry smile told her that if and when we would marry, then it would be the right way and pregnancy would not be an issue until after the honeymoon. My prospects for earning a decent living I my hometown were not that rosy and my future had military written all over it. At the end of summer I went to South Carolina, joining Uncle Sam's Misguided Children for indoctrination and training. I got a "dear john" letter my second week of boot camp. Such is life.
My name is Jedidiah Jones, my friends call me JJ. My acquaintances call me Jed. My enemies call me the Hunter. I am 6'2", 220 pounds of mostly muscle. I have added about 5 pounds of excess since my injury forced me to retire from the seals. I spent 12 years on the teams in a variety of situations and a variety climates. During my time in the teams, a man named Roberto befriended me. His family was wealthy and he was being groomed to take part of the family investment business. For whatever reason, (probably after DAD was caught swimming in the secretarial pool and an ugly divorce) he decided not to partake of the family business. He still followed stocks, bonds, and his knowledge of investing strategy did not leave him, and for that I am grateful to this day. During our time together he taught me about investing, what to look for, some pitfalls, and rules of "the game". I was a petty officer second class at the time of my discharge. I have excellent hand to hand combat skills, an expert in most weapons. Like Leroy Brown, the bad boys call me sir. I still work out to keep in shape. I'm not rock hard, but my muscle definition is still there. I run five miles on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I work out with free weights and PT on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. I go the bars from time to time. I enjoy shooting pool and of course there are always the girls.
After my departure from the service, my life was....well. mine. I had no real plans, no real family that I was close to, and no desire to change my current life status. I had money from enlistment bonuses, re-up incentives and other temporary pay incentives that I had invested (Thank you Roberto) well and thankfully those investments had paid off. I was comfortable and as long as I didn't get too crazy I could live reasonably well for a long time. Part of my re-indoctrination back in the mainstream of life was to set up a Facebook account, a twitter account, and an email account. I would spend about fifteen minutes a day, usually during breakfast, reviewing my "social network" of news (LOL) and contacts. I had several friend requests and followers. I turn down most friend request, choosing people that I truly know and not friend of a friend of a friend types. I seldom post anything so any followers are probably bored or extremely frustrated with my lack of "social" involvement. I do, from time to time, get contacted from head hunters about people with my skill set.
I fell into a rut and felt rudderless, no real sense of direction. I was contacted by a friend (Roberto) who wanted to meet up and catch up. We agreed to meet at a local sandwich shop to discuss some ways to rid myself from boredom. After the usual pleasantries, he asked "How have you been spending your time? Look, I know you hunt and apparently still work out, but what have you been doing? Do you have a wife, girlfriend, boyfriend? All I know is after you left the teams, you kinda dropped off the face of the earth. Look I am starting a private consulting firm and I am in need of people with your skill set. I prefer ex team members that have been there and done that. I was hoping that IF you still had the physical ability, AND IF you can pass a company physical, AND IF wanted to make some decent dinero, then maybe I could persuade you to be interested in doing some consulting?" I sat there contemplating what he was saying and remembering what those 12 years were like, the men with which I had shared experiences, some of the good times and bad. The longer I sat there in silence, memories came flooding back, little light flashes going through my mind, each one with a different experience or person or place, the more a smile crept across my lips. I must have sat there for a couple of minutes staring off into nothingness. Roberto finally spoke again snapping be back into the present. "Well, what do you think?"
"Well", I said, "I want to think about it and get back to you in a few days, would that be alright?"
"Sure", he said, "just let me know, soon if possible, if you are interested or not. And hey, it was good to see you. It is good to see that you still look in shape."
I am a confidant man in many facets of my life. Physically I can hold my own with the best. I am emotionally stable (I think) I feel happiness (check), elation (check), sadness (check), rage (when needed double check), love (good question). Other than family closeness, I don't think I have been properly introduced to love. I am not easily duped or manipulated. I am a free thinker and not usually swept in to "group think" and many times I play devil's advocate just to try and understand another person's intended point of a conversation or discussion. I am generally not shy around women and usually do not have difficulty in holding up my end of a conversation. I occasionally go to clubs or bars. I use my observation skills to see who is with who. Relationships are hard enough without outside influences. I look for decent women and try to avoid married women at all costs. I don't want angry husbands after me. I wouldn't want my woman out trolling. I really try to avoid drama especially that kind of drama in my life.
I have a fairly prominent scar on the left side of my face that goes from just below my eye socket to my jawline. Some people are shocked by it, some are disturbed by it. In my line of work, it adds to the aura of being a badass. Most people just look away when I make eye contact. My scar is my litmus test for women. If they can get past it and talk to me, then we may have a chance to carry on a conversation and possibly more. If not, then they are too shallow for my tastes.
