Post-Noir: the Return of Light

This is a sequel to my "Nude Noir" stories, using the few characters who survived to the end of the series. A few readers commented on the darkness of the closing chapter of "Nude Noir." There is darkness in this story too, but also redemption. This piece will be difficult to follow unless you have read the Nude Noir stories or, at least, Nude Noir Chapter Five.

This story is a work of fiction. It mentions or implies some real places and institutions. Those are used fictitiously here. As far as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.

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I didn't respond to Paula Taft's suggestion that she could help me run Bougainvillea Cove. I didn't have anything against Paula. She was physically very attractive and had seemed an engaging and intelligent girl when Laura and I had met her in Jamaica. I simply had no interest in interacting with people after Laura's killing and the events that followed it. I blew Paula off saying something about The Cove having a manager. I don't recall exactly, but it was not meant to be encouraging.

About ten days after Paula called, a woman on the front desk called to tell me there was a "young lady" in reception to see me. That was perplexing because no one came to see me anymore, least of all young women. It must have been one of my better days because I went to the reception desk instead of ignoring the visitor. I didn't bother putting on any clothes though. When I walked into the office, a slim woman with shoulder-length blonde hair was standing with her back to me. Two nice legs extended below her shorts.

Hearing the door, the woman turned. The wide mouth broke into a smile and the blue eyes twinkled. "Hello Ian," she said. "It's good to see you still dress like you did in Jamaica." I was shocked and speechless. It was Paula! She looked more beautiful than I remembered from Jamaica. That may have been because she was by herself. When we were in Jamaica, Laura was always with us, and she outshone everyone.

"I, uh, uh, what are you doing here?" I asked.

Gretchen walked out from the back before Paula could answer. I suspect the woman at the desk had called Gretchen. I don't think The Cove staff trusted me to handle anything appropriately at that time. "Ms. Taft," Gretchen said, "it is nice to meet you after talking to you on the phone."

"You two know each other?" I asked.

Maybe there was something in my voice. In any event, Gretchen said, "Ian, may I speak with you in the back for a moment?" To Paula, Gretchen said, "excuse us. This will only take a minute or two."

I followed Gretchen into her office. "Did you invite her here?" I asked.

"No," Gretchen said. "She called. She said she had a marketing background and was looking for work, that she was interested in Florida and nude recreation. She said she had talked to you, and you had told her to talk to me. We talked for a half hour or so. Paul and Lillith relied on word of mouth. That doesn't do it anymore. We need to do marketing. Ms. Taft's been working in marketing at a large university up north. So, I told her to stop in if she was in the area. She also talked about meeting you and Laura in Jamaica. You apparently made a strong impression on her."

I started to say something objecting, but Gretchen cut me off. "Ian, you've just shut down. You aren't doing yourself or The Cove any good. This sure as hell isn't what Laura would want. There's an intelligent and attractive woman in the next room who apparently came here because of you. Don't you dare hurt her, yourself, and The Cove by running her off."

Various of my few surviving friends had given me similar lectures before. It hadn't had any effect. Something in what Gretchen said, however, hit me. Maybe it was because Gretchen and I weren't really friends. I'd become her boss when I inherited The Cove from Paul and Lillith. Gretchen seemed more concerned about The Cove than me personally. I didn't feel much anymore, but I did feel a duty to The Cove.

I walked back into reception. Paula smiled again, stood a bit straighter, and put a hand on her hip. She did look beautiful. "May I stay?" she asked.

Gretchen told the woman at the desk, "see what we've got open that Ms. Taft can stay in for a few days."

"No," I said. To Paula, I said, "you can stay with me in Unit 7. There's a guest room."

"Great!" Paula said. "Where do I go?"

"Go right out of our lot," I said. "Follow that street past the end of the tall fence then turn right again. That will put you at the entrance to resident parking. I'll come out and open the gate for you."

"Thanks," Paula said and started outside. I turned back towards the door into the resort.

"That's the best decision you've made in months," Gretchen said.

"It's the only decision I've made in months," I shot back.

"True," Gretchen replied.

Every part of Paula's Japanese sedan except the driver's seat was loaded with stuff. "Is that everything you own?" I asked.

"I told you on the phone I needed to get out of Ohio," she replied.

"So, you loaded all your stuff in the care and hoped you could stay here?" I followed up.

"Pretty much." Paula said with a smile. "I figured it would be harder for you to put me off in person than on the phone."

I had to admire her moxy. "What do you need right away" I asked. "This lot is very secure. Your stuff will be safe. We can get the rest of it later."

Paula opened her trunk and pulled out two suitcases. "If you'll carry those," she said, "I'll get this." She lifted a smaller overnight bag. I led her to Unit 7, opened the door, and set her bags down. Paula followed me inside. We went into the living room. "May I take my clothes off now?" she asked. I nodded. She slipped off her sandals, pulled her tee shirt over her head and tossed it in a chair. She unhooked her bra and let it slide down her arms. She tossed the bra on top of her shirt. She undid her shorts and pushed them and her panties down her legs together, then stepped out of them. She tossed them on the chair, the straightened up. "You can't imagine how much I've been looking forward to this," she said. "I haven't enjoyed wearing clothes since Jamaica."

We had spent a lot of time nude with Paula and her friend Jen in Jamaica. At Laura's direction, Paula and I had done more than just spend time. I remembered her as an attractive young woman. I did not remember her being as beautiful as she looked standing naked in front of me that day. "You look wonderful," I said.

"Thank you," Paula responded. "Candidly, you look better than I expected given all that's happened to you." She was being kind. I'd lost my motivation to exercise after Laura was killed. After I shot the woman who made that happen, I'd also stopped eating regularly. I did still wash, but I looked like shit and knew it.

"Paula," I said, "it is, truly, good to see you. I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"

"May I sit down?" she asked.

"Of course," I answered.

She sat on my sofa. She patted the empty space next to her. "Please sit next to me," she said. I slowly moved to the sofa and sat several inches away. "Ok," she said, "this isn't easy to explain. There's a big reason I'm here and some other important reasons."

"What's the big reason?" I asked.

"In a word: you," Paula responded. "I've not had the best luck choosing men. The men I've had relationships with all seemed to see me as something to give them pleasure. In Jamaica, you were different. When we had sex, you seemed more concerned about me than you. It wasn't just the sex. You're just, well, considerate. Laura and I talked often after we got back from Jamaica. She said you treated her the same way. Uh, may I have a glass of water?"

I got up, went to the kitchen, and came back with a glass of ice water. I handed it to Paula and sat back down on the sofa. She took a long drink.

"Sorry," Paula said after a second long drink, "this isn't easy. I sound like a little girl with a crush. Maybe that's not that far off, although what I have is a lot more than a crush. We connected in Jamaica. I felt it and I'm sure you did too. Talking to Laura and listening to her talk about you just reinforced what I felt for you. I loved Laura too and I'd never have tried to get between the two of you. When you told me she was, well, gone, I decided I owed it to both of us to try for a relationship. I also owe it to Laura. She loved you too much to want you to be alone. She recognized there was something between you and me. She told me she did, and she thought that was good."

This was almost surreal. A beautiful 24-year-old woman was telling me she had come all the way to Florida to hook up with me and that she had my late wife's blessing. Still, there was something in what Paula was saying. It was Laura's idea for me to make love to Paula in Jamaica. Laura talked about Paula often after we get home. The two women had bonded. I stalled. "What are the other important reasons?" I asked.

Paula seemed slightly crestfallen that I hadn't responded passionately to her expressed desire for me. "Like I told you on the phone, I need a job. My boss at the University has connections so I'm unemployable in Columbus, probably all over Ohio. I discovered in Jamaica that I like being naked. I did research on The Cove before I knew what had happened to Laura. It seemed like a wonderful place with a lot of potential. That was trying to reach Laura when I called you. I wanted to know who to talk to about a job here. After I talked to you, I worked on some specific ideas to market The Cove. I cold-called Gretchen and talked to her. She seemed to like my ideas."

"The Cove needs marketing," I said. "It historically relied on word-of-mouth. The regulars built up that way are aging. We need younger guests. I'm a retired cop, not a marketing person. Anyway, I've been pretty useless since I inherited The Cove."

"No offense," Paula said. "You still look great to me, but you don't look as vital as you were in Jamaica. Losing Laura hit you really hard?"

"It isn't just Laura," I said. "In a few awful minutes, I lost all my close friends: Paul, Lillith, Beth Potter, Sally Stancik. Months later, I shot to death the woman who had them killed: Paul and Lillith's daughter. The whole time I was with Chicago PD and the FBI I never fired my gun except at the practice range. Losing Laura was a huge part of it. She was so perfect!"

Paula slid next to me on the sofa. She took one of my hands in hers and looked me straight in the eyes. "I can't promise perfect because I know I'm not perfect, but I will promise you damn good," she said. She looked so beautiful and so sincere. I'd been emotionally dead since Laura died. Suddenly, I was feeling emotion again. I felt very drawn to this gorgeous young woman. The thought entered my mind that it was just because I was a lonely, horny old man.

"I'm a lot older than you," I said.

"That wasn't a problem in Jamaica, and it isn't a problem for me now," Paula replied. She grinned and added, "I've heard some older guys like younger women." We looked at each other for a long time. Finally, Paula said, "Ian, give me a chance. I'll make sure you never regret it."

We sat on the sofa facing each other, with our bare legs touching, for a long time. I told Paula all the details of what happened to Laura and the others. I explained that I was afraid of a new relationship because I'd catastrophically failed people I loved.

When I finished, Paula said, "Ian, I don't know what you could have done better. You didn't know Pam Westerfeld was out of prison or that she was coming after you. I'll, well, I'll give you an example of bad judgment. It's the other reason I needed to get out of Columbus."

My curiosity was piqued. I had difficulty imaging Paula doing anything dumb and said so.

"I did," she said. "Just after I graduated, I hooked up with this guy. Nick Mancuso. He'd played football at the University. I'd heard of him. Big guy, strong, very good-looking. He was working for an insurance company based up there. He had nice clothes, an expensive car, a Rolex watch."

"Ok, I said, "what was dumb about that?"

"We went out a few times before we started fucking," Paula replied. "He'd been very kind on our dates. He got a bit rough, though, when we had sex. Initially, I thought 'well, some guys are like that' and it added a little more excitement. Then Nick wanted to spank me. I didn't like that, him pulling my pants down, bending me over his knees, and swatting my bare ass. But I went with it. It stung more than really hurt and it seemed to turn him on."

Paula took a deep breath before she continued. "We'd been dating about six months and fucking for five and a half. Nick got drunk. He wanted to spank me, so I let him; except he used a little whip this time. That hurt. I told him to stop. That pissed him off and he started whipping me harder. It really hurt and I could feel my ass bleeding. I screamed at him. He picked me up, he's an extraordinarily strong man, stood up, and threw me against a wall, hard. I hit a low wall topped fake granite which had an edge. The edge went into my ribs. I've never felt anything that hurt so bad."

Paula paused again. "I should have known better than to stay with him by then."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nick kept drinking and passed out," Paula said. "I grabbed my clothes and my purse and got out of his condo. I couldn't drive so I called Jen. I was standing in the parking lot with no clothes on, scared Nick would wake up and come out and get me. Thank God Jen showed up. She took me to the Emergency Room. I had broken ribs. The nurses called the police. I told the police what happened. They arrested Nick. He made bond and kept calling me telling me to drop the charges. The moron didn't understand that, in Ohio, that wasn't up to me and that I would be held in contempt and jailed if I didn't testify. He was set for trial about a month before we went to Jamaica. I'd planned that to recover from the trial. He did a plea deal just before trial and got 18 months in prison. If he follows all the rules, he can get about four months off that, so he's likely to be out before long. He'll come back to Columbus, and I sure don't want to be there when he does."

Paula stood up. "You can still see the scars on my ass," she said. She turned away from me and bent over. The beauty of her ass was marred by some scars, mostly where her thighs and hips met. They were not very noticeable when she stood. That someone would damage such a beautiful body made me angry. That was the first time I'd felt anger, or any emotion, in months.

I knew from my time in law enforcement that Paula's experience was not unusual. It is easy to criticize the woman after the fact, to say 'she should have seen it coming and gotten away from him sooner.' I knew it wasn't that easy for the woman living it. "Paula," I said, "you didn't screw up. Nick did."

She straightened up and turned back to face me. There were tears in her eyes. I stood up from the sofa. We held each other for quite a while.

It had become late afternoon. Paula finally broke our embrace and said, "I'm hungry. What have you got to eat here?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," I replied.

Paula went into my kitchen. I followed her. She looked in the refrigerator and the cabinets. "Damn," she said, "you don't have anything."

"The resort has a restaurant," I said. "It will be serving dinner in about an hour."

"I'd rather not eat in a restaurant," she replied. "Not tonight. Is there a grocery close by?"

We dressed and took my car to a Publix about a mile away. I let Paula pick out veggies and breakfast food. The store had some decent looking snapper fillets, so I got those and some herbs. Laura and I had enjoyed cooking together and I thought myself a passable cook. I hadn't cooked at all since Laura died. Now, I found myself wanting to make something that would impress Paula. We also got a couple of bottles of wine, although I had plenty of booze at home.

At home, we stripped off again. I baked the fish in foil with herbs and lightly sauteed the veggies Paula had gotten. Paula sat on a stool in the kitchen watching me. When everything was about ready, Paula said, teasingly, "Do I need to dress for dinner?"

"Please don't," I replied.

"You like me naked?" she asked.

"Very much," I said.

Paula got off the stool, walked to me, put her arms around me, and said, "I like you naked too."

Paula seemed to like the meal, which made me feel good. We cleaned up dinner and then sat together on the sofa drinking wine and watching a Rays game on TV. Paula was a knowledgeable baseball fan. When the game ended, I said, "the old man is getting tired. I think I'll go to bed. The bed in the guest room is made up if you'd prefer to use it."

"I'd prefer to sleep with you, if that's ok," Paula replied. I guess there are men with the willpower to say no when a beautiful, naked young woman says she wants to sleep with them. I'm not one. Paula and I slept together naked that night. There wasn't any sex. We fell asleep holding each other.

We were still holding each other when I awoke the next morning. Paula was still asleep. I've always thought that the truest test of a woman's beauty is what she looks like asleep. Laura had scored high in that category. Paula did too. Another special thing about that morning was Paula opening her eyes, looking at me, smiling, and saying "this feels good." I felt better that morning than I had any morning since, well, you know when.

I used the eggs, ham, and veggies we'd bought the day before to make omelets. "I could get used to a guy cooking for me real fast," Paula said, "especially when the food's this good." I was almost uncomfortable at how happy that comment made me. Happy was an unfamiliar experience.

I told Paula I usually met with Gretchen at 10:00 a.m. and was going to shower before I went to the office. "May I join you?" she asked. That was a no-brainer.

I had made love to Paula, on Laura's instructions, when we'd been in Jamaica. That had been almost a year earlier, and I hadn't seen Paula again until the day before. We explored each other's bodies in the shower like it was the first time we'd been together. Even with her scars, Paula was, I thought, incredibly beautiful and in great shape; much better shape than me. That didn't seem to bother her.

We dried each other and went downstairs. I put on flip-flops and asked Paula, "are you coming?"

"You don't get dressed for the meeting?" she asked.

"It's a nudist resort," I answered.

"Cool!" Paula said.

After I'd locked the front door to Unit 7, Paula took my hand. We walked naked, holding hands, out of the residential area, past the pools and pool bar, and into the office. I'd had these meetings with Gretchen more-or-less five days a week since I'd inherited The Cove. I never paid attention. I just said yes to whatever Gretchen wanted to do. I'd been too lost in my own agony.

The first meeting Paula went to was different. I was actually listened and asked questions. Gretchen finally asked, "What's up Ian? You're much more engaged than usual." She looked at Paula and understood, I think, what was up.

Gretchen made a financial report. Paula asked what seemed to me astute questions. I sensed that Gretchen had been impressed too. Gretchen asked Paula to talk about her marketing ideas. Paula did that for about fifteen minutes. She thought we needed to get pictures of the better-looking parts of The Cove, preferably with good-looking people in them, and run ads in select "lifestyle" and travel magazines. She estimated a cost for that which Gretchen opined we could afford. It all made sense. There was more to Paula than just physical beauty.