Annie

+I pull into a parking space away from the door, get out and lock my Ford Fusion, and walk into Jerry's Bar. It has been a long, hot day, it was Wednesday, and I'm in the mood for a cold one, or two or three, and a sliced beef sandwich and some seasoned fries. Jerry's has the best brisket for anywhere in town serving cold beer, but not because he does his own BBQ. He happens to be next door to The Shack, the absolute best BBQ in the county, maybe the state. And Texas is a big state.

Jerry has a deal with Ralph at The Shack; Jerry doesn't do his own BBQ and Ralph doesn't sell beer.

As I walk into the cool, dark barroom from the August Texas heat, I see Jerry behind the bar and Norma Jean waiting to take 4 long necks to some cowboys sitting at a table in the back.

"Hey Jerry, hey there good looking. How y'all doing?"

"Hey, George, hot enough out there? Come on in, get a cold one and cool off."

"Hey yourself, handsome. Can I get you something?"

Norma Jean had on her usual waitress uniform. A white tee shirt with the Jerry's Bar logo across her breasts, tied up under her awesome boobs and a six inch rip from the collar down to show off some cleavage, tight denim cut off shorts that showed off an ample amount of her luscious butt cheeks hanging out, and red cowgirl boots. She carried an order pad in her back pocket, but I've never seen her take it out.

I take a seat at the bar next to my buddy Richie. Richie and I played football for Coach Sellers back in high school. Richie was a running back, and I would block. We were quite a pair, back in the day.

"Hey Richie. Still selling those Nissans?"

"Hi George. I'm still going to work every day, but nobody is buying much these days. Can I interest you in a new Altima to replace that POS Ford you keep driving?"

"No Richie, you know I'm not giving up my Detroit iron for one of your rice burners."

"So, do you think the 'stros will take the pennant this year?"

Richie and Jerry and I spent the next twenty minutes talking about sports and stuff. From baseball to football, from the pro's to the college teams.

I had finished my first Lone Star long neck, and had ordered a sandwich when I saw him walk in. Hell, everybody saw him walk in. He really didn't fit in. He had on a rumpled brown suit and the jacket wouldn't button around his belly. He was wearing a garish tie that he probably got from his kids for Father's Day, or maybe it was a clearance sale at Goodwill. Judging from the scuffed up brown wingtips, he couldn't afford a can of shoe polish. Something about him screamed cop.

Jerry's is not a biker bar, but most customers drive up in an F-150 or Silverado pickup. Jeans and boots are the usual attire, and a Stetson is not uncommon. I guess you would call it more of a blue collar, neighborhood beer joint. A suit and tie will get you noticed.

He looked at a picture on his phone, and then looked up straight at me.

"This can't be good," I thought. He walked right up to me at the bar.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you Mr. George Armstrong?"

"You have been served"

He handed me a brown envelope, took a picture with his phone, turned and walked away.

"That was rude," said Jerry. "He could have at least stayed for a beer."

As Jerry handed me my sandwich and fries and my second long neck, I opened the envelope to see what this was all about. I know I wasn't being served divorce papers since I have never been married.

Not that I can remember.

There was that time in Las Vegas last year. Now there was two days I can't remember.

I'm being sued by Catherine Williams for child support. I don't think I know Catherine Williams, and I certainly don't remember having children.

Again, I think I would remember.

Anyway, it was a civil suit, not criminal, so I wasn't going to be arrested and hauled off to jail in handcuffs.

Again.

I really didn't know what this was all about.

I got Jerry's attention and lifted my empty beer bottle in the international sign for "Give me another one."

Norma Jean set my beer in front of me, resting her arm across my shoulder, rubbing her ample bosom across my back.

"Sugar, what's that all about?"

"Well, sweetheart, I don't really know. I guess I'll find out in court next Tuesday at nine o'clock."

"Sweetie, this looks like some serious shit. You're going to need a lawyer. Let me get Frank over here."

Even though this is a blue collar kind of bar, Frank fits in with everyone else. I don't know if he is a 'Cowboy Lawyer', or a 'Jailhouse Lawyer, or an ambulance chaser. But he wears jeans and boots and a big white Stetson, and drives an F-150 pickup so he fits right in.

Frank and I got a booth to get a little more privacy, and enough quiet to be able to talk at a normal level. Frank took the papers and started to look them over, and I bought him a beer.

"George, this is serious. This woman says that you are the biological father of her son, George Armstrong Williams, and she is suing you for child support until the child reaches the age of 18, unless he goes to college, in which case it could be until he is 21. He is already two years old, so you could be making payments for the next 19 years. Also you would be responsible for half of his medical expenses and education. And she wants it to be retroactive for the last two years."

"If they can prove you are the father, she has you by the short and curlies. Before we go to court, we have a lot of homework to do. Are you sure you don't know this woman?"

"Frank, I swear to you I've never heard of Catherine Williams, and I don't know anything about a kid. I've always been careful in my relationships about insisting on birth control and safe sex. I always use a condom."

"OK, George. Let me do some checking into this, and I'll get back to you."

Frank took the summons, and went back to his table. I finished my beer, and left enough money on the table to pay my tab and leave a good tip for Norma Jean. I know, she only served us the one time, but you have to tip Norma Jean just for the privilege of watching her. I went on home to my modest bachelor apartment.

Alone.

As usual.

There are not a lot of jobs out there for English majors in the heart of Texas unless you want to teach school. And I didn't.

My ambition is to be a published author, but in the mean time I still have bills to pay. So I drive six hours a day for Uber, and weekend nights. In my off time, I write, mostly Western stories, and detective stories. I've gotten a few pieces published in some pulp magazines but I'm still looking for a chance at the big time.

In the words of the Beatles, "I want to be a paperback writer."

Why did I major in English, and not aeronautical engineering? First of all, most math is over my head. In high school, I had a very inspiring English teacher that turned me on to creative writing. She was my mother. Did that make me the teacher's pet? No, quite the opposite. She held me to a higher standard than other students, and was the toughest critic of my work.

Ten years ago, while I was still in college, a tornado ravaged the small Texas town where I grew up. The high school was destroyed, many students were injured, and four students and two teachers were killed. My mother was one of them.

My dad had died of a heart attack while I was in junior high, so now I was alone. I had been an only child. I inherited the house, which I sold. I was never going to live there. There was also a substantial amount of money. Mom had kept all of the life insurance money after Dad died, and used it for my college fund. There was also the life insurance money from Mom's death, double indemnity for accidental death.

I had not known until after her death that my mother had also published four romance novels that were best sellers, and one was actually made into a TV movie on the Hallmark channel. In fact, she was still getting pretty good royalty checks every three months. These were now coming to me.

So why was I driving for Uber, and living in a rat hole apartment? It met my needs at the time, and Uber paid my rent and utilities. The rest of the money was invested conservatively against the day I might need it. For now, I didn't need it.

Was that about to change? I'm not sure.

-----

It's been a year since I lost Annie, the love of my life, my life partner. She was taken from me in the beginning of our life together, a brain aneurysm. There was nothing that could be done, and she was gone in just minutes.

Now, there is just Georgie and me. Georgie is our son. Annie gave birth to him and I adopted him. We named him George Armstrong Williams.

I met Annie while I was it law school in Austin. We were both invited to a party at a mutual friend's house. Okay, it was a meet n' greet party for lesbians. I felt an attraction to her as soon as I looked into her deep blue eyes. She had short platinum blond hair, stood about 5'4'', and was wearing denim shorts, a tee shirt, and sandals. Her breasts would be an ample B cup, if she had been wearing a bra. Which she wasn't.

On her tee shirt was printed "Keep Austin Weird". Right on, sister.

I walked up to Annie and introduced myself. She was drinking a rum and coke, and I had my usual gin and tonic. We spent a few minutes getting to know each other. I was in my second year of law school, looking forward to graduating soon. Annie was in her junior year of undergraduate school, majoring in Finance. She was planning to get her MBA before she started a business career. Her father was a wealthy investment banker in Dallas, and was a strong influence on her career choices.

"Annie, my apartment is a few blocks away. Would you like to go with me so we can get to know each other better, where it is quieter and more private?"

OMG, was that the worst pickup line, or what?

Annie finished her drink and set it down.

"Sure."

I know. I couldn't believe it either.

We jumped into my Mustang, and got to my apartment in record time.

We walked into the apartment, and I turned to close the door and leave my keys on the table by the door. When I turned back, Annie had already pulled her tee shirt off over her head, kicked off her sandals, and was unzipping her shorts. Besides having no bra, it became obvious quickly that Annie wore no panties either.

I guess I was just standing there in shock, mesmerized by the beautiful creature in front of me, stark naked. Annie took one step closer, put her arms around my neck and pulled me toward her. Our lips met, our mouths opened, and our tongues started to dance. I had one hand in her hair around the back of her head, and the other hand was squeezing her magnificent left breast, teasing her puffy nipple.

Annie broke the kiss and took a step away. Still looking into my eyes, she began undressing me, still standing in the foyer just inside the doorway. She unbuttoned my white, frilly silk blouse and pushed it off my shoulders, exposing my lacy white pushup bra. She unbuttoned and unzipped my designer jeans, and pushed them off my hips while I stepped out of my 3" heels. Now I was just in my bra and thong panties.

Annie was giving my breasts the loving attention they craved, licking and nibbling. I reached behind me and unsnapped the diaphanous garment, letting it fall to the floor. Annie now had full access to my nipples, and wasted no time sucking and teasing them with her tongue. She had one hand moving down across my tummy, past my belly button, and into my panties.

"Annie, this is great, but wouldn't we be more comfortable in my bed?"

-----

Tuesday, 9 o'clock, county courthouse, courtroom 4.

I was sitting next to Frank, my attorney, at a table at the front of the courtroom. This looks familiar to me, but this time I'm not in an orange jumpsuit.

The plaintiff enters the courtroom, and is seated at the table opposite ours. Catherine Williams is an attractive woman, seemingly in her late-twenties. She is wearing a professional looking business suit, navy blue with a skirt that comes to just above her knee and black 4" heels. She has raven black hair that is cut to just above her neck line and subdued makeup and lipstick that enhances her professional appearance. It is hard to tell who is the lawyer, Catherine or the man with her. He appears to be fortyish, streaks of gray at the temples, dressed in an expensive suit. He carries a briefcase, while she has only a stylish designer handbag.

Frank leans over, and whispers "George, we may be in trouble here. That is Joseph Marcheti, one of the toughest attorneys in Austin. He doesn't take any case that he doesn't think he can win."

The judge enters the courtroom, and the bailiff orders everyone to rise. The judge asks Mr. Marcheti to proceed. He starts to lay out his evidence to prove I am the father of Catherine William's child.

"Your Honor, we are here to prove that George Armstrong is the biological father of the child, George Armstrong Williams. The biological mother of the child was Anne Foster Alexander, now deceased. Ms. Alexander's life partner, Catherine Williams adopted George and has been raising him and supporting him since Ms. Alexander's demise. Ms. Williams wishes the court to establish paternity so that the child's father will have a more significant role in his upbringing. While Ms. Williams can afford to raise the child as a single parent, she feels the child needs a father figure in his life."

Now it all came back to me. Anne Alexander is Julie's sister-in-law. Julie was my girlfriend back in college. We lived together for about a year. Anne was married to Bobby Alexander, but they got divorced. I remember it had something to do with Anne having a lesbian affair.

So how did Anne get pregnant while having a lesbian affair, and why do they think I'm the father? I always used a condom when having sex with Julie. I never had sex with Anne. I didn't have the right equipment to satisfy her. We did have one thing in common, we both liked women.

Julie worked at a fertility clinic, and I found out that she was cheating on me with a doctor there. When I confronted her about it, she said she needed more than a cab driver could provide, and she was going to marry Doctor McDreamy. That was the last time I saw Julie. I guess that would be about two years ago.

Catherine's lawyer restricted his questioning of Catherine to the details of her relationship with the birth mother, and her adoption of the child. Catherine admitted she had no DNA evidence, and only Anne's allegations that I was the father of her baby. Then it was Frank's turn to cross examine.

"Ms. Williams, do you know Julia Rogers?"

"No, but I've heard Anne mention her. She was Anne's sister-in-law."

"Did you know Ms. Rogers was in a long term relationship with the defendant until two years ago?"

"Yes."

"Did you know that Ms. Rogers was also having an affair with Dr. Robert Johnson, a physician at the Commerce Street Fertility Clinic?"

"Yes."

"Did you know if Ms. Alexander was a patient of Dr. Johnson?"

"Yes, she was."

"Was Ms. Alexander inseminated by Dr. Johnson with donated sperm?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the identity of the sperm donor?"

"Yes, Anne said it was sperm from George Armstrong."

Then it was my turn to testify.

"Mr. Armstrong, have you ever met Anne Alexander?"

"Yes, she was my girlfriend's sister-in-law."

"Did you ever have sexual relations with Anne Alexander?"

"No."

"Have you ever donated your sperm to the Commerce Street Fertility Clinic?"

"No"

"Or any other fertility clinic or sperm bank?"

"No"

"You were in a sexual relationship with Julia Rogers at the time alleged that Ms. Alexander became pregnant?"

"Based on the age of the child now, that would be correct."

"Did you always use a condom when having sex with Ms. Rogers?

"Yes, she insisted on it"

"How were the condoms disposed of after use?"

"Julia would take them."

"Do you know how she would dispose of the condoms?"

"No. I never asked and she never told me."

The next witness was Julia Rogers.

"Ms. Rogers, did you have sexual relations with Mr. Armstrong?"

"Yes, we had a relationship that lasted nearly a year."

"Can you tell us why that relationship ended?"

"I fell in love with someone else, so I moved out of George's apartment."

"Who was the other person?"

"Dr. Robert Johnson."

"Dr. Johnson worked at the Commerce Street Fertility Clinic, where you were also an employee?"

"Yes."

"Dr. Johnson performed inseminations using donor sperm?"

"Yes."

"Did Dr. Johnson perform this procedure on your sister-in-law, Anne Alexander?"

'Yes."

"Did you know the identity of the sperm donor?"

"Yes, it was George Armstrong. After we had sex, I would save the condoms, and collect his sperm in a sample tube from the clinic. I would then take the tube to the clinic when I went to work."

"Why were you doing this?"

"Anne wanted to have a baby, but she was in a committed lesbian relationship. She didn't want to risk an unknown sperm donor, so we decided George would be perfect. We kept it a secret from George because she didn't want him involved in her child's life."

"Did Dr. Johnson know what you were doing and why?"

"Yes."

"Your Honor, the defense agrees that a DNA test would probably prove that George Armstrong is the biological father of George Armstrong Williams, but due to the fraudulent nature by which the child was conceived, my client should not be required to provide support to the child."

In the end, the judge ordered that the records show that George Armstrong and Anne Alexander are the biological parents of George Armstrong Williams, and George Armstrong is not required to provide any support to the child whatsoever.

Before we left the courtroom, I made sure I was able to say a few words to Catherine.

"Catherine, I want to say how sorry I am to hear about Annie's death. I didn't know her well, but she was a good person, and I'm sure she was a good mother. Would you like to get together some time to talk about Georgie, without the lawyers? I really don't object to being involved in his life. I only objected to being court-ordered."

"I understand, George. I would like that. Can you come over for dinner tomorrow night, and you can meet Georgie?"

"I would love too. Is 6:30 good for you?"

------

Catherine had a nice condo in an upscale neighborhood. She was serious when she said she could afford to raise my son without child support. Right at 6:30, I rang the doorbell, holding a nice bottle of wine in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. I wanted to be a good guest, and I had no misconception about any romantic intentions. This was Annie's lesbian lover that enticed Annie to leave her husband.

Catherine "Call me Cathy" met me at the door, and asked me in. I immediately saw another woman and a small child in the room. Catherine introduced me to Constance, "Call me Connie", and Georgie. I noticed right off the brown eyes and brown hair; he could have been a clone of me when I was two years old. According to pictures my mother left.

Cathy and Connie had prepared a nice meal. We had a salad, spaghetti and meatballs, green beans, garlic toast, and a lime sherbet for dessert. I was informed this was all Georgie's favorites. Except the salad and green beans of course.

After dinner, Cathy was busy getting Georgie his bath and then ready for bed. Connie was cleaning away the dishes from dinner and loading the dishwasher. I was sitting in the living room, enjoying a nice cognac. Cathy called down the stairs and asked me if I wanted to read Georgie a story for bedtime.

Georgie picked his favorite story, 'The Three Little Pigs'. Before I started to read, he snuggled over to me and looked up at me with those big brown eyes.

"Are you my Daddy?"

"Yes, son. I suppose I am."