A work of fiction, which means this story is a total confabulation of my fevered mind. All characters are over 18 years. Sorry, no trigger warnings other than marriage vows are routinely ignored and by popular demand (alright, one email) I ramped up the kink...but only a little. This chapter is best understood in context with the previous six chapters, but go ahead and read it, anyway; you might have fun.
*****
The initial wild euphoria occasioned by the return of my former lover Claire and her daughter Jillian, and my discovery I was Jillian's father, soon fell to a low simmer and our lives returned to some semblance of normal. I occasionally found myself smiling and humming for no particular reason and it didn't take a genius to understand I was the happy new father...of an 18 year old girl! In quieter moments I also understood that my old girlfriend - my old lover - was back in my life. I still had feelings for Claire. Actually, I was still in love with Claire but didn't want to admit it, especially to myself.
I'd deliberately kept those feelings suppressed although Myra and perhaps Jillian sensed my continued infatuation with Claire. To avoid temptation I resolved to avoid being alone with Claire, and as a consequence she and I hadn't talked much. I didn't want to inflame my old feelings for Claire and risk alienating Myra.
Myra and Claire seemed to have resumed their old friendship as if nothing had happened, which was a source of wonder to me.
Additionally, I had my work. I was putting in 60 hour work weeks in the ER, counting on-call time. I was in the final third of my medical career and I began to wonder if I shouldn't seek ways to cut back at work. It dawned on me that I risked burnout if I didn't slow down.
David Newton's menacing presence was never far from my mind. I was wearing Rich's retired body armor under my scrubs and white coat, and if anyone at the hospital had noticed, they hadn't mentioned it to me. I wasn't allowed to carry a pistol onto hospital property and therefore had to rely on unarmed security guards. At home I was well equipped to handle Mr. Newton should he appear, and so was Myra. She'd gone to the gun range with Rich and he'd pronounced her competent with pistol and shotgun. She now routinely kept a pistol in her purse and we kept a shotgun downstairs that we moved upstairs with us into the bedroom at night.
Claire and Jillian stayed at Rich's house and Myra enjoyed teasing me about it.
"I wonder if Rich and Claire are getting it on tonight?" she'd say, usually in the evening after a glass of wine. It wasn't a fair situation because I'd sworn off booze but still allowed Myra to drink at home. It made abstinence from alcohol more difficult for me, but I considered the added temptation to be part of my penance for my former alcohol abuse.
"I wonder if Rich invited his younger brothers over for a visit?" she'd say after a second glass. She was trying to get my goat and although said it in good humor, there was an edge to it. I wondered if Myra was idly daydreaming about experiencing Rich and his two brothers for herself.
"Rich wouldn't have sex with Claire, not with Jillian living in the house," I said. "Besides, I see no sign of romance between Claire and Rich. Rich is still in mourning, remember?"
Myra just smiled.
"Nothing like a good fuck to make a man forget his sorrows," she said, and that's when I'd first realized Myra had really changed. When had my wife become so overtly sexual?
Until recently, she'd not used vulgar language outside the bedroom. After our marijuana fueled bacchanalia with Rich at the lake house, and Myra's recent two overnights with Rich after Helen died, Myra was different. At first it was subtle, but she was becoming more sexually demonstrative. Her language and dress were more sexual and she'd become more aggressive in bed. I was the beneficiary of her sexual renaissance but I worried what it might portend.
She'd been nearly seduced by David Newton, something that'd caught me by surprise, and she'd been more than willing to go to Rich's bed on more than one occasion. That memory tweaked my conscience because I had willingly shared her the first time with Rich. Now with her fire lit, Myra was stoking the furnace herself. Myra was fast becoming a sexual dynamo and I had better keep up with her. It was time for me to slow down at work and better tend home and hearth.
*****
"Keep your eye on the gun, move fast, use both hands, and push down with all your weight and strength," Rich said. "Control the gun."
He was reviewing what I was about the do.
It was a last ditch maneuver, something only to be done in desperation if I was about to be shot at close range. This exercise seemed very real and already my heart was beating out of my chest. Rich drew the orange painted dummy gun and raised it toward me. It happened at lightening speed. I heard the hammer fall with a hard snap and I pushed the gun downward with all my might. I felt the sharp front sight dig into my palm but I didn't let go; instead, I used my weight and the strength of two hands to twist the gun away from Rich.
"Now, step in close and push me back, stiff arm me, and pull the gun back alongside your belly and empty it. Don't stop firing until I fall!" Rich said. I did and we concluded the exercise. Officer Kyle Kennedy, my sparring partner at Claude's gym, looked on approvingly.
"It's a last change maneuver, Dell, but sometimes it works. If you're shot, you'll be so high on adrenaline you won't feel it at first. Just keep going until you win," Kyle said. "Or until you drop."
He should know. A year and a half ago he'd been shot doing just what I had been practicing. In his case, a fellow officer dropped the perp and drove Kyle to the hospital where I was privileged to help care for him. Now, he and Rich were teaching me how to stay alive if David Newton attacked me at close quarters.
We put away our training equipment and I asked Kyle, "How's momma doing?"
Kyle's wife was in the final month of pregnancy with their first child, a baby girl. Rich had told me on the QT to expect the child to be named after me because in the ER, I had clamped Kyle's severed femoral artery and saved his life; another risky, last gasp maneuver that'd worked. Kyle had been close to death and I'd been lucky to find the severed stub in his pelvis. It'd been a close run thing and only the flawless performance of everyone in the ER, perfect luck, and Kyle's youth and vitality had saved him.
I also knew bullet fragments had severed both vas deferens where they crossed over Kyle's pubic bone, and their later repair by a urologist had been unsuccessful. Kyle was sterile but I was not free to discuss that with anyone except Kyle, and he'd never mentioned it. How he'd impregnated his wife, I didn't know.
"Momma's great and we're looking forward to being parents," Kyle said, and I saw Rich and him exchange a glance.
"We've seen no sign of David Newton, Dell," Rich said, "he seems to have disappeared, just evaporated off the face of the earth. His court date is coming up soon, and Sacramento will start looking for him if he skips. Since his crimes are financial and non-violent, I don't expect California to exert much effort looking for him."
*****
Thursday morning after breakfast, Myra started a breezy conversation as we cleaned up the kitchen together. I knew she was leading up to
something,
so I let her ramble until she finally got to the real topic, the coming weekend. Jillian was driving out of town to visit our daughter at college, leaving Claire alone with Rich. Myra had plans for us to spend the weekend with them at the lake house. Alarm bells went off!
"No, Myra. Just no," I said. I knew what she envisioned, a marijuana-fueled weekend fuckfest starring Myra, Claire, Rich, and me. "Rich is receiving outpatient treatment for alcoholism, Myra. I doubt his therapist would approve of him smoking weed, even if it's legal now."
"Rich said it's okay," she said, and I raised an eyebrow at that.
"So, you and Rich have already planned this, huh? And Claire, too? Why hasn't anyone said anything to me?"
I had a sudden feeling of exclusion, of being old and in the way. These were the same sorts of feelings I'd felt back in my drinking days. For the first time in months I felt the urge to drink, and knew I wouldn't call Claude to intervene. I thought Myra and I had reached an understanding about the lake house and extramarital sex: A rare occurrence that we always planned together and shared together. Now, apparently, I was the last to know; the fifth wheel. Even Claire was already in on it.
"We
are
including you," Myra said.
"Yeah, sure,
after
the fact. No, Myra, I don't want to go and I don't want you to go, either."
"Don't ruin this for me,
please!"
