Jacsie & Jess

This story is pure fiction. The places listed are real, but everything else is made up. This is a relatively tame BTB so if that isn't your cup of tea, no harm, no foul. Honest critique is welcome, but haters will be ignored. Probably needs better editing but such is life! All sex is between adults over the age of 18

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, it's hard;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you know it's hard;

Everybody wants her, everybody loves her;

Everybody wants to take your baby home;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you watch your friends;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, it never ends;

You, know that it's crazy and you wanna trust her;

Then somebody hangs up when you answer the phone;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you go it alone.

Maybe it's just an ego problem;

Problem is that I've been fooled before;

by fair-weather friends and faint hearted lovers;

And every time it happens, it just convinces me more;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you watch her eyes;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you look for lies;

Cause everybody tempts her,

everybody tells her she's the most beautiful woman they know;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you go it alone.

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you watch your friends;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, it never ends;

When you're in love with a beautiful woman, you watch her eyes;

Dr. Hook

Irony is a bitch! This 70's song came on some obscure FM station halfway into my drive from Denver to Santa Fe. I didn't know anybody in Santa Fe. Almost everyone I count as a friend or family member lives in Denver. I have season tickets to the Colorado Avalanche. As far as I know, nobody in Santa Fe plays hockey. My company has six offices scattered around the greater Denver area. (I'm in the investment business.) I will be the entire staff of my new office in Santa Fe, which will be operating out of an apartment two blocks from the Presbyterian Medical Center, another Irony... I was raised Methodist.

I guess I should back up and start closer to the beginning of this tale. My name is Thomas Rexford, but my friends call me, no, not T-Rex, they call me Jacksie. Makes no sense, right? Well, I spent three years while friends were off at college in the Northwest learning and working the lumber business. Yes, I actually became a lumberjack, so now you can make the connection. (Yes, I still have all my gear and yes, friends call me on occasion when they need help with a downed branch or entire tree.) I also still own the Harley Davidson, 2005 Softail Standard FXST I bought in Oregon which is in mint condition. My ex-wife and I used to take long rides on that bike, but those days are now gone.

Anyway, I grew up in the greater Denver area and except for my logging experience never really left my hometown. When I returned from Oregon, I went to work for my Uncle Mike who owned his own investment company. He helped me get through Denver U with a degree in finance. That was about twelve years ago. Eight years in, Uncle Mike retired and sold me the business. I was his most faithful employee and best earner, so it was a no-brainer for both of us. We had four shops at the time. I opened two more offices, one in Cherry Hills and one in Parker growing our staff from twenty-six to thirty-one. Even in the tough economic times we took good care of our clients and weathered the storms that popped up. Our bottom line is healthy.

I mentioned my ex-wife, I guess I better give you some context there as well. I knew Jessica Remington in high school, but we ran in different circles. I played hockey, a blue-collar type of sport. Me and my buddies were rink rats, on the ice every chance we had. We didn't do much besides hockey and homework. We only did homework because you had to have a 2.5 GPA to be on the team. She played soccer, was in national honor society and a class officer. Our paths rarely crossed.

I wasn't ugly, more a rough looking type than anything else. 6'1" and 170 lbs. soaking wet. Longer brown hair in high school, because I was too cheap to get it cut very often. Girls that like hockey, like hockey guys and visa versa. It is an acquired taste so I had a few dates here and there.

Hockey guys say "fuck" in most sentences, such as.

"Fuck me, what a shithead play!"

"Fucking A, nice goal Rexy!" (This was before Oregon, after which, as I mentioned I became Jacksie)

"What the fuck? Get the puck out of the zone!"

"Hey Rexy, fuck that number 17, he's such a shit!"

"I fucking hate the fucking Wings!" (Detroit Red Wings)

OK, you get the picture. Hockey players are also a tight bunch. We hang together all the time and if we're on the same team, we're completely loyal to each other. Even parents of hockey players tend to run together. That's fucking right! (Sorry, just wanted to throw in one more example!) All of us tend to have a bit of the "ugly step-child syndrome." We assume most people outside the hockey world don't care much for us and think we're a bunch of rabble-rousers. Both are probably true, so just one more reason why Miss Jessica Remington and I never were more than passing acquaintances in high school.

One more thing you should know before we move on. Jessica (Jess to me) is gorgeous. I don't mean pretty or good looking, I mean fucking close to stunning. She turns heads when she walks in a room. Deep red hair, fair complexation, 5'7" with a body that won't quit. Blazing green eyes, a quick wit, and a pretty good temper. (Her maternal grandmother came over from Ireland in the 50's after the war.) From high school on, she could have any guy she wanted. She never dated the starting quarterback for the football team, because he was an amazing athlete but also a bit of a dork. I know, that doesn't fucking happen too often, does it? She never had a steady in those days, just hung with a smaller group of friends. Occasionally, I'd see her out with a popular guy, but that was about it.

We didn't connect until three years after I returned to Denver from the great Northwest. I'd filled out a bit from climbing and cutting trees, not too much body fat on me. I was playing in a men's hockey league with a few buddies when she walked in. Apparently, her friend Trisha Carmichael had been bitten by the hockey bug. She was dating our goalie, Mike, "Tooney" Toomer. I may have failed to mention hockey players put er, ie or an xy on any name they hear.

"Fuck me Jacksie, look up in the stands, is that fucking Jessica Remington?"

"Sure as shit looks like it, Beemer"

"Can't believe she'd come near a fucking rink."

"She's with Trisha, Tooney's girlfriend. Must be supporting her."

I'm a red-blooded American boy so I played my ass off trying to get her attention. I had two goals and an assist. After the game we'd showered and were heading through the warming area of the rink when I passed her.

"Hey Thomas, nice game. Aren't you going to stop and say hello to an old high school friend?"

"Sorry, Jessica, I didn't know we were friends in high school. It's good to see you!"

I stopped and put down my bag and held my hand out to shake hers. I know fucking stupid, but I'm a hockey guy, we're not the best with social graces. She smiled and took my hand.

"Well, maybe if you got away from the rink every now and then you'd have noticed, I thought you were a good guy. Oh, good lord, what is that terrible smell?"

"Sorry, hockey bags have a unique odor, very distinct. I'll run out and throw it in the jeep, so you don't have to be around it. See you later."

She looked a bit miffed, but I wasn't sure why. We barely knew each other, and I was very polite when speaking to her. Never said "fuck" once. Beemer came running after me as I was getting into my very old, but lovingly restored red 2005 Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. I guess I have a thing for 2005 models of whatever I drive or ride.

"Hey Jacksie, you going to O'Connell's for a beer? Jessica is coming and I overheard her say she wondered if turning into a hot looking guy made you a snob as well. You may have a chance here, brother, I'm not fucking sure why, but you better show up and not fuck this up!"

As my grandpa Mitchell was fond of saying, "I may be ugly, but I'm not stupid," so I agreed to meet up at our favorite watering hole. I arrived first, grabbed a Coors, and plopped down at one of the ten top tables. When she arrived, she made a beeline for me.

"Listen... Jacksie, is that what they call you?" I'm sorry if I put you off but your bag reeks. That being said, I'd like to hang out a bit, without the bag, and catch up."

"Fu... Um, I mean, sure Jess, I'd enjoy hearing what's going on in your life."

For the next two hours it seemed like it was just the two of us in the joint. I'd buy her a beer and then she'd buy me two. We talked about the last few years. She'd gone to UCLA and studied Marine Biology. After graduation she spent a year as a gopher at SCMI (Southern California Marine Institute) and learning to surf. But she was a mountain girl at heart and retuned to Denver. She was currently getting her teaching certificate and hoped to begin teaching high school math in the fall. (She had a minor in mathematics)

For my part I explained my name. She was genuinely interested in my lumberjack experience. (Mountain girl, remember?) She liked my Jeep and her eyes actually lit up when I mentioned Gretta. (Nickname for my Harley) She laughed as I explained hockey lingo to her and even tried it on for size.

"Hey Jacker, could you get me a fucking beer?"

"It's Jacksie, not Jacker" I said, flagging down our server.

"Well as quickly as you tried to avoid me at the rink, I thought maybe Jacker was more appropriate," she said with a wicked smile.

"Fuck me" was all I could muster in response.

She winked at me and said, "Maybe."

Before we left, we politely hugged, and she gave me her cell number. "Call me, I'd like to go for a ride on Gretta if you'd take me. I've never ridden a hog but it's on my bucket list."

I waited two days to call her. Trust me, I wanted to call her five minutes after we left, but I also didn't want to appear desperate. I was going for cool, calm, and collected, although I was anything but.

"Hey Jess, this is Thomas. I was wondering if you wanted to join me for a ride this Saturday. We could head up to Leadville, they're having a music festival this weekend."

"Fuck you Jacksie! I do have a social life and can't just drop my plans at the last minute for some hockey boy, even if he is a goal-scoring stud."

I was a bit lost and stammered, "I'm sorry Jess, I didn't want to seem too forward. Maybe next weekend?"

"Fuck you again Jacksie! I'd love to join you. What time do you want me to be ready?"

"Well, it's about two hours, so how about 9 AM?"

"I'll be ready" It sounded like she was ready to hang up.

"Hey wait a minute, I don't know where you live."

"You're a smart guy Jacker, figure it out!"

"It's Jacksie" I replied a bit hot about her taunt, but the line was already dead.

I called Tooner, who in turn called Trisha and got Jess's address.

Saturday morning, I was knocking on the door of her condo in Golden at 9 AM sharp. When she answered the door I almost fainted. She wore shorts, not short shorts, but not too far from it, a white tank top, covered by a red and white check long-sleeve shirt and Texas Stitched, Havva black cowboy boots. She had a UCLA hoodie tied around her waist. I almost said, "Fuck me" but kept my composure. She saw my expression and smiled.

"I take it I pass inspection?" She purred

"Yes mam, you do!"

I gave her my spare helmet, a white and black AGV X 3000 and off we went. The ride up was glorious. Summers in Colorado are warm, but never too hot in the mountains. The first part of the ride was comfortable, but we stopped once we got into the foothills so we could put on warmer clothes. She tossed on her sweatshirt, and I grabbed my black Roland Sands Ronin biker jacket. I could tell she like the way her chauffer was dressed.

"If we do this again, I'll have to dress more like a biker chick," she said poking me in the ribs.

Leadville was amazing! We enjoyed several bands, had some killer tacos and talked for what seemed like hours on end. It couldn't have gone better, however, this was the first time I saw guys gawking at her. A few of them were subtle, a few got elbowed in the ribs by their girlfriends / wives. More disconcerting, looking back, was how she seemed to encourage the interactions. She'd smile or wink. However, I was a bit over my head in the moment and was just enjoying being with a beautiful woman who was interested in me. When I dropped her off around midnight, we talked for a moment at her door and she gave me a friendly kiss, thanking me for a fun day.

"I thoroughly enjoyed being with you today, Thomas. Gretta was outstanding and I hope you call me again sometime soon. Oh yeah, thanks also for not bringing your fucking hockey bag!"

She told me earlier, since everyone called me Jack or Jacksie, she wanted to be different and call me by my given name. Although my folks and Grandparents were the only other people on the planet who called me Thomas, who was I to argue?

That day began a two-month casual dating relationship that led to us becoming exclusive. We texted every day and talked on the phone most nights. She received her teaching certificate and landed a job at a local middle school. She had been hoping for high school but figured if she did well, it wouldn't take too long to make the jump.

After four more months we decided to introduce extended family. I met her folks, two younger sisters, Meg & Beth, two grandmothers and one grandfather. There were cousins, but none in Denver. She met my crew as well. Mom, dad, my kid brother Mikey, Uncle Mike, (Mikey was named after him) grandma and grandpa Rexford, and Grandma Mitchell. I had a couple of pervert guy cousins, but I decided to hold off on them.

Following several family gatherings including Thanksgiving and Christmas I decided it was time to take stock in where this was going, so I called a counsel of war. My inner circle had always been dad, Mikey, and Grandpa Rexford. We met on the screened in porch at my house the first week of January. I had a fire roaring in the fireplace, so even with temps in the teens we were comfortable. 15-year-old Glenlivet in hand, we sat down.

"Well fellas, it's like this," I began. "I've been dating Jess for almost six months. Four of those have been exclusive, a first for me. I'm really developing feelings for this woman, so before I get in over my head, I'd like to know what the three of you think. I don't have to ask any of you to not hold back. I know I'll get the unvarnished truth from each of you, which is exactly what I want. I'd like to go from youngest to oldest if that's OK with everyone. You have the most experience gramps, so I'd like you to hear the other two in case you want to challenge any of their opinions."

Heads nodded all around. "OK Mikey, let me have it."

Twenty months younger Mikey had always looked up to me when we were kids. But Mikey was smart. Not just book smart, although he just finished his Masters in Applied Mathematics, whatever the fuck that was. He tried to explain it to me a couple times. I could follow some of the finance and business angles, but the rest was Greek to me. However, I did compute that Mikey loved figuring out shit. It was never enough to understand something, he always wanted to kick holes in it, see if it really worked or figure out how to make it better. That made him street savvy as well.

Two years after I came back from my lumberjack gig, Mikey was a senior at CU in Boulder. I let him borrow my bike for a week the following summer. He told me a year later that he only rode it twice. Once on the first day, and once on the day before he brought it back to me. The rest of the time he had spent taking it apart piece by piece and putting it back together again. I almost fainted when he showed me pictures of Gretta, disassembled on the floor of his garage. Then I thought about killing him, but he told me about a couple of improvements he made to the fuel system and, fuck me, if I hadn't noticed it ran better when I got it back.

"Well Jacksie, if this was math, I'd tell you there are a series of fluid dynamics that must be factored in before you can determine best outcomes, but why bore you with the details? I'll keep it simple and use small words so you can understand...

1. Jess seems to be a wonderful young lady. She has a good job teaching; she seems to genuinely care for you, and she doesn't take herself too seriously.

2. She doesn't have a long list of ex-boyfriends so she hasn't displayed any proclivity to 'love em and leave em' thinking.

3. You guys demonstrate, in front of us, what appears to be real affection for one another. This includes, but isn't limited to respect, physical touch, good communication and realistic conflict resolution.

4. If you continue in this relationship you will need to understand anytime, you're out and about, even with friends, you'll need to watch your back. She's drop dead gorgeous so every guy who isn't gay will notice and many will probably try and make a play.

5. The big X variable for me is the lack of time you've been together. You're in your mid-twenties so I know settling down is probably becoming a good option for you. But in my equation, I'd like to see another six months minimum before you make any long-term commitment. You're both twenty-seven so plenty of time to start a family.

He finished and yielded the floor to dad.

"Thomas, You're a smart young man with a good head on your shoulders. Three years working timber in the northwest knocked many rough edges off and helped you grow up quickly. Your business sense is excellent. From what I can tell you are pretty wise about your personal life as well. You enjoy your hockey buddies, but you don't join them when they decide to do stupid shit. I think you'll make somebody a fine husband.

"Agree with Michael, Jessica seems to be a fine person. I won't repeat his assessment but I will concur with his caution. I'm not convinced you know her as well as you need to if you're going to ask her to marry you. Your mom and I dated off and on from the time we were sixteen until we were married at twenty-three. We had a couple of bad breakups, but that helped us learn what we wanted and what we were made of. A bit more time in the courtship phase couldn't hurt."

Dad, always one for brevity, then looked over at his pops, our elder statesmen, Grandpa Rexford.

Gramps, sat back in the overstuffed leather chair, took a sip of his Scotch and looked toward the mountains as if lost in thought. After a pause, he looked me squarely in the eyes and said, "Beauty is skin deep, but ugly goes all the way to the bone." He then took another sip and looked back to the hills. Fucking cryptic right?

I was about to ask him to expand on his thoughts, but dad shot me a look that said, "Just be quiet and be patient, it's coming."

Gramps began again. "Thomas, Jessica is a nice young woman with looks that can stop a truck or a train for that matter. I've watched the two of you closely and can tell you're smitten with her. There is good fiber there for sure... but there is something else and I can't quite put my finger on it. The simple way to say it is she seems to always need attention; to be in the center. The tougher way to say it is, she is immature and self-absorbed. She doesn't sit on the side easily. She needs to be in the middle of whatever is happening. Quiet doesn't come naturally to her, I guess because nobody ever shushed her when she was a child."