Forever In My Heart Pt 01

A preface to the whole concept: Formal vows don't make a marriage. This is a loving wives story!

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A Fathers and Daughters Trilogy

By Jedd Clampett

I've read lots and lots of Loving Wives stories, but I can't think of one, except, damn it, D.Q. Steele's "Separate Vacations", that targeted what might be 'the major factor' in a wife's misbehavior. If you haven't read Steele's little masterpiece you might not know what that infernal feminine trigger mechanism be? Shame on you if you don't go back and read it.

You don't know do you; well who plants the seed, who fertilizes the soil? Think about it; who for a girl just might be her first fantasy hero?

I'm finishing up a trilogy of troubled wives stories. Each I like to think focuses on some things from a girl's parental training that brought on whatever might happen to her, and those around her, when she's an adult.

To be sure, these aren't stories offering excuses for feminine misbehavior, but in each case we might see some reasons, inexplicable as they might seem to the more logical male mind, for what they do. For sure, who knows, women being who they are, anything's possible. Don't believe me? I bet Lizzie Borden's mom and dad would've appreciated a clue or two.

One thing I'm kind of confident of though. I have four daughters; if they find out I'm writing this trilogy, and they will, one's going to ask why three and not four stories. It's creepy...

Here goes story one: "Forever in My Heart"

Title: "Forever in My Heart"

By Jedd Clampett

It was a Thursday in April 5, 2010

It was late in the evening; maybe 11:00-11:30, the bar was slowly clearing out. It wasn't that crowded to begin with; Friday was a work day after all. Three guys, lifelong friends were finishing the last of their beverages, two were harassing the third

"Colt," Rick started, "when you going to go back to school and make something of yourself?"

The guys had been dicking over their friend Colton almost all night when Brian chimed in, "Yeah asshole, you can't keep up the stupid shit up you've been doing the rest of your life."

Colt, tired of the badgering smirked, "Why not? Long as I've got fools like you to buy the beer..."

"That's the point," Brian flipped back, "My wife's sick of me being out with you almost every night. Besides she's got a bun in the oven. She wants me home more."

Colt guffawed, "Your wife's a whore, and you're a cuck."

Brian bristled, but before he could retort Colton Stewart, one time honor student, top scorer on the SATs back in high school, but currently voted least likely to ever make anything of his life, retreated and apologized, "Come on Bri; you know I'm bullshitting. Your girl Louisa's the best. Every guy wanted her, but she chose you. And smart thing too; you're the best."

The third in the trio Rick, looked askance at his two best friends. Louisa had always been a bone of contention between the two of them, and he had to agree, Colt was right Louisa had chosen the better man; not that Colt never had potential, because he did. Maybe it was Colt's home life, his shitty family that'd ruined him. Who knew about those things? But Rick knew, like Brian, and everyone was tired of Colton's lazy life style. His own wife had warned him it was time to stop catering to Colt's slothful, often self-destructive and occasionally illegal ways.

Rick scowled, "Brian's got a right to be angry Colt. Sometimes you go too far."

Exasperated and a little too defensive he replied, "Look I'm sorry, OK?" then he checked his watch, "It's late, and you guys have to go to work tomorrow. Let me buy one more round, and we'll call it a night." Then he lied, "I have an interview tomorrow anyway."

Surprised, Brian asked, "You have an interview?"

Just as Colt was about to reply the young men got a glimpse of three gorgeous women who'd just sauntered in the front door.

~~V~~

Jenny, the girl last in line begged, "Jesus it's past 11:00. Come on I want to go home."

Dorothy, ready to agree, slowed her pace.

First in line, Madeline, the leader, turned, "Come on. I've heard this place isn't that bad."

A skeptical Dorothy grimaced, "Looks like a shithole to me."

Jenny agreed, "Yeah, Come on Madeline let's get out of here. Let's go home. Besides. You've got court tomorrow morning."

Madeline scoffed, "Court, I'm ready, you know that, but..." Almost ready to agree and leave she briefly scanned the barroom and empty dance floor... and then, "Hey wait a minute. Look over there."

Jenny squinted to see, "Look at what?"

Madeline discreetly pointed to the three scruffy men at the far end of the bar, "Over there, see."

Bored, Dorothy said, "Yeah, three bums, so what."

Madeline closed in on her friend and colleague, "Remember our conversation yesterday?"

Jenny thought, "You mean the Liza Doolittle thing?"

Madeline grinned mischievously, "Yes that, she turned and looked back at the three red necks, "Yeah, the Liza Doolittle thing."

Dorothy disclaimed, "Madeline. No. Jesus no! For Christ's sake. Them?"

Madeline absently let her fingers slide down the collar of her partially opened V-necked blouse in thought. Wearing the lowest of low cut demi-bras she felt her nipples press against the blouse's silken material, "Let's go over. We'll pick one."

Jenny was ill at ease, "You're not serious. They're probably all married, or drunks, or drugged out deadbeats."

Madeline wasn't listening; she'd already started across the floor.

Dorothy looked at Jenny, "We can't leave her."

Jenny shrugged, "Let's go see what stupid thing she gets into."

So Madeline's two associates, Jenny her paralegal and Dorothy a fellow lawyer followed their wanton leader across the old beaten hardwood of the Wagon Wheel Restaurant and Bar. Both were certain that this time their friend was going to be in way over her head.

Madeline reached the three degenerates just as they were about to quaff the last of what they presumed would be their final beer. She wasn't as stupid or as foolish as her friends might have thought. Already she'd eyed the three men and noted the absence of any black inked tattoos or other tell-tale signs prison. All three were short sleeved and she noted the distinct absence of any 'track marks', scars, piercings, or anything else, other than dirt that might've been a put off. She thought they didn't look gay; she also noticed wedding rings on two of them, the two slightly better dressed and more presentable.

She eyed the third; he looked to be about the type, probably never held a job longer than a few months, under-educated, not real bright, but reasonably clean. Of course this was a risk and she still had one more front end concern, "Any of you guys got anything?"

One of the better dressed ones grinned, "What like you want some new exotic STD?"

"No," said Madeline, already glad he wouldn't be her target, not a drug user herself and not sure of the current street names she guessed, "Any drugs; weed, white girl, maybe some crack?"

The other cleaner one asked, "You a cop?"

Madeline, now braced by her two comrades, looked from side to side and smiled. Studying the three imbeciles in front of her she thought, 'If they only knew'. She answered, "No, just wondered if we could score."

It was the really scruffy one who answered, "No, and get lost. We don't need that," he turned back toward the last of his beer and his friends, "well is it a night?"

Both Rick and Brian nodded. Colt tossed a 'Hamilton' on the bar for Myra the bartender, "Let's call it a night." All three men started to get up to go.

Madeline, seeing she was being dismissed, something that never happened, held up her left hand daintily, "No wait, I'm sorry. As partial reparation for my crudity let me buy you each one more round.

Rick stretched, "No, not for me. Got a lady at home."

Brian started to step away, "Me neither... maybe Colt here would..."

Colt eyed the mouthy woman up and down. 'Not bad,' he thought, 'a little overdressed, on the tall side, liked her look though, nice tits, she had a sexy way about her, a little on the Anne Hathaway side, much too smug to be a princess though. He smiled, "OK, one more."

As Rick and Brian stepped away Brian leaned back in, "You coming Sunday?"

Colton replied, "Yeah, I guess so."

Brian grimaced, "If you do, try to bring a real date and not the squirrel."

"Brian," Colt stammered, "...you know..."

"OK," answered Brian, "Bring her if you must," he gave Madeline a bemused look, "and anybody else... that's if you can get anyone."

Colton had no come back. Caught naked, he shrugged it out, "We'll see."

Meanwhile, Jenny groaned, "Madeline."

The two married men nodded at the women and started for the door. They had wives and homes to attend to. In fact both had wives who'd probably been to church.

Madeline looked at her target, her prey, the one they'd called Colt. He was well built, maybe a little too thin but he was muscular. He looked grisly, but she bet he was pretty not so long ago; a pretty boy turned gritty young man who'd one day be just another grimy old smoke. She glanced back at her friends, "It's all right. You girls go on. I'll get a ride with Colt here."

Dorothy, not so sure, asked, "You know what you're doing?"

Jenny added her reminder, "Don't forget, court tomorrow."

Madeline remained placid; she didn't want the boy across from her to start thinking, "I won't."

Colt caught the interchange; he realized she had something to do with the law, a lawyer maybe, something else, perhaps a clerk, no lawyer would come in here, and if she was she was definitely where she didn't belong and definitely out of his league. Then, as if to confirm his suspicions he checked the cut of her skirt, the thin near transparency of her blouse, definitely not Walmart. He grinned sarcastically, "You think you can trust me?"

Madeline saw his not too discreet appraisal. The moisture between her legs was betraying her more sadistic impulses. She laid a twenty on the bar, "What're you drinking?"

Colt backed down, "Heineken. You?"

Madeline made a note, 'Heineken, a good beer, not really redneck quality.' She said, "Yes I'll have one."

Myra, the bartender had been standing nearby. Though it was a Thursday and they often had a good crowd; it was Maundy Thursday and most people in this part of the country would be home or at church. No, it wasn't the 'Bible Belt'; and no, the area wasn't flooded with 'Evangelicals' or Bible thumping Baptists, it was western Pennsylvania, a place where people still took God seriously enough to show a little respect. She chuckled to herself, 'Yeah a place where even squares could still have a ball.' She reached around, found two long necked Heinekens, popped off the caps, and handed them across the bar.

Colton took a sip, "So why're you in here?"

Madeline replied, "Mainly to pick up guys."

"This is sort of out of the way for someone like you isn't it," he asked?

She responded, "Slim pickings tonight. This place was our last gasp."

With some resignation he replied, "Well, nothing here, looks like you struck out."

Madeline looked in his face. She thought, 'He's not exactly handsome, more pretty than handsome, a pretty boy. He'd have made a great girl, long eye lashes, soft eyes, sort of hazel, delicate looking mouth, high cheek bones nice to look at. Bet he had trouble growing up. Then again; those weren't a girl's shoulders or arms, calloused hands, though they'd been washed they still looked dirty. He was thin, but not skinny. He looked pretty robust, could've been gay but she knew he wasn't. She said, "You're not nothing."

He looked down at his beer, "I'm not what you're looking for."

"How do you know what I'm looking for," was her questioning reply?

Colton felt a little foolish, a little down, like he'd been missing something, "No, I know what I am." He put his unfinished beer on the bar, "Come on. Where do you live?"

She put hers down too, "Not far from here. Chambersburg actually, near the college, just off Norland Avenue.

Colt mentally plotted his course, Wilson College, maybe thirty-forty minutes, good area, nice homes, "OK." He proffered his hand. She politely refused. He wasn't surprised.

He walked her out to his late model Chevy pick-up. As they walked he apologized, "I have a dog. Truck's clean, but it smells."

As they walked across the gravel lot Madeline recalled as an undergraduate at Delaware Valley her time with 'Animal Rescue'. She liked dogs, "Really? What kind?"

"An old Lab, she's eleven, kind of crippled, can't get in the truck without help."

She asked, "Dog got a name?"

"Heidi."

"Color?"

Colton opened the door and offered to help her in, but she ignored the proffered hand, "Black," he said.

As he climbed in on his side Madeline commented, "Black labs are the best. They have the fewest allergies and overall the fewest ailments."

Colton, a little surprised, "You know this?"

"Sure," she said, "I did some animal rescue while in college."

He started the truck, "Hope you don't mind the noise, muffler's going up." He shot her a side-wise glance. He'd been surreptitiously looking her over anyway. He didn't think she was especially pretty, but still the Anne Hathaway thing, and the tits, "You're a lawyer aren't you."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe, a little."

They drove on in silence for a while, then she asked, "You lived here long?"

"Yeah, off and on all my life I guess."

"You guess?"

"I wandered a little. Not much. Been to Grand Cayman; fishing, swimming, drinking. You know the Hemingway thing. Went out west, San Fran; didn't stay long, a few days, had to get home."

Curious she asked, "What do you do for a living?"

He avoided that one as best he could, "Not much. Riding teacher some. I muck out my brother's stables. Do a lot of babysitting."

Surprised, she said, "Babysitting. You?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "maybe you heard Brian mention something about a squirrel, cousin really. She's not exactly a real cousin. Well she is, and she isn't. I'm not exactly sure how it works. She's young, just eighteen, not very healthy. We're surprised she's lived as long as she has."

Madeline found herself interested. She thought, 'was he for real, or was he tossing some stupid line?' She asked, "Why the babysitting? What's wrong with her?"

He replied, "Nothing and a lot. I don't know. She's diabetic. Was in a pretty bad car wreck when she was little, never got over it," feeling testy he asked. "What do you care?"

Sensing she'd hit a nerve she switched gears, "We're nearly there. Go to Commerce Street, then turn left on..."

Colton interrupted, "I know where Norland Avenue is. You got a number?"

Madeline told him the number.

Neither said anything until he'd pulled in front of a rather stately older home in one of the better parts of town. He asked, "This yours or you just renting?"

She answered, "I'm buying. It's a good investment till I find out where I'm settling."

"You're not from around here," he commented.

She answered, "Philadelphia. Got a job at a law firm out here. Might stay on, might not."

Now he was interested, "Law firm got a name?"

"Schilling, Prendergast, and Hanlon."

He grinned, "Oh, Dewey, Cheatum, and Howe."

Then she smiled, "We're not that bad."

He sighed, "Well this is where you get out," he didn't get out to open her door for her.

Madeline started fumbling around in her purse; he shot her a look, "No payment necessary."

She gave him a glare, "No I wasn't..." finding what she was looking for she handed him a card, "This is my card. I heard your friend say he was having people for a picnic Sunday. I'll be home alone. My family's in Europe."

Colton thought, 'She's feisty and forward.' He took the card and started to read it. He was starting to feel the after effects of the beer, the usual headache and ennui. He kept his eye on the card, then looked up, "Let me walk you to your door."

She started to say that it wasn't necessary, but Colton was already out of his truck. He walked around and got her door. He proffered his hand to help her down. This time she took it. They stepped from the truck to the street and walked the short distance to the gate that led to her front door. He got to her gate and opened it.

She stepped through, "Thank you."

He stepped back, "Look maybe I'll call. I like you, but Chelsea, she's..., and besides you don't really want to be seen out with me."

Madeline ignored the self-deprecation, "Chelsea's your cousin?"

"Yeah, she's..."

She smiled, "I understand, but if you change your mind and need a date, even if it's just to keep your friends off your back I'll be home all day."

He stammered, "You sure? It would have to be after church... what Easter and all."

"Sure," she said.

For several seconds they both just stood there. Finally Colton murmured, "Well, I gotta go."

Madeline smiled, "Call if you want. I mean it. Use the cell."

He backed away, grinning, he thought, 'this is so stupid,' he answered, "OK, maybe." Not taking his eyes off her he walked around to his side of the truck, hitting his knee on the bumper he got in, and still watching her, he pulled away.

~~V~~

As Colton Stewart drove off Madeline walked up to her door, unlocked it, and went in. Closing the door behind her she pulled out her cell phone, punched up Jenny's number, waited through two unrecognizable noises until her colleague turned her phone on.

On the other end Jenny said, "Well, what now?"

Madeline replied, "I'm not sure, but the Liza Doolittle? Maybe?"

"Oh no, you didn't, you haven't."

"I'm not sure. We'll see. He's to go to some party Sunday. He might invite me, he might not."

"So you won't be with us."

"Not sure yet. If I'm there I'm there. If not, I'll tell you about it Monday."

"All right," responded Jenny, but if you're not there Sunday the gang will be disappointed. I know Brad will."

Madeline snorted, "Oh Brad, Brad, Brad that's all I hear. He's had his chances. He can dip his wick someplace else. You want him?"

"No, no," replied Jenny, "I've got mine."

Madeline throatily responded, "Oh yeah, I forgot, Mr. Melancholy."

Jenny was sick of Madeline's retarded remarks about her new beau, "Look I'll tell everybody you're out with a 'dirt ball' if you don't show up."

Madeline went low grade ballistic, "No, oh God no. Don't tell anybody anything. Only tell them I got caught up in something. Say a family matter or something. Got it?"

"OK Delilah, try not to hurt him too much," and with that Jenny closed her phone.

Madeline closed her phone too. 'Delilah', she thought, 'Femme Fatale'; was that who she was?" She dropped her purse on the end table by the stairs and started up the steps to her bedroom, slowly taking off her blazer as she went. Femme Fatale? Not tonight. She had a date with her real boyfriend. The man she really loved. His name was Errol. He was long. He was green. He was plastic. He never spoke or interrupted, but as long as she had batteries, he was ready. Tonight she thought she'd give him a new name, at least for tonight he'd be Colton, 'Colton the loser'. She wondered, 'Could she take that sow's ear and turn him into a silk purse? Was he even a sow's ear? Time would tell. He probably wouldn't call. Hell, an asshole like that, he'd probably lose her card.'

At the top of the steps she stopped and reached under her skirt. She was so wet! She pressed her legs together and squeezed her vulva tightly with her thumb and fingers. She shuddered.

~~V~~

Colton headed back toward home. He lived only a few miles west of Chambersburg..., and that Madeline person. He lived in a small, poorly maintained rented bungalow in an equally small but well maintained town. He shared the place with his mother, his drug addicted aunt, and Chelsea his cousin.