He had the rest of their lives planned to perfection...he only missed one small detail.
Randy had a good life. He owned a successful business, had two wonderful children and a beautiful wife. Now that their youngest was off to college, Randy was eager to reap the benefits of having had children young. To his way of thinking, becoming empty nesters in their early forties was just about perfect. But his wife had other plans.
Following the divorce, and a bit of soul searching, Randy decides to take a Grand Tour of his homeland and really
own
his mid-life crisis. He buys a fast car, kisses his kids goodbye and heads west. He would soon discover, however, that fate had one more surprise in store for him.
After accidentally saving an ill-tempered alien with a cockney accent and a devastating appetite for junk food, Randy embarks on an adventure beyond his wildest imagination with a companion whose abilities seem boundless. Along the way, he encounters the best and worst of humanity and meets a bevy of remarkable women.
Incorrigible is the tale of a good man who, in rescuing an alien, finds himself in a very human struggle between good and evil. His new companion tosses out Faustian bargains like candy, forcing him to navigate the fine line between finding true happiness and losing his soul.
Author's note:
This novel is a work of sci-fi adventure. I've split it into four sections for publication here.
All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.
One
"Did you know this song is technically a march?" Randall "Randy" Vettel whispered to his wife, Jennifer.
"Sounds more like a dirge," she muttered diffidently.
"That's just because they're playing it too slow. I'm not surprised, how many times have they played it so far? Ten?"
"There are nearly four hundred kids graduating. It's almost a crime to make those children sit out there in the sun in all black, playing for nearly an hour without stopping."
"You're not wrong," Randy replied with a grim chuckle.
"Look!" their daughter Holly whispered fiercely. "Peter is nearly up to the stage."
The family looked on in pride as the youngest member of their clan walked across the stage. A laugh erupted from the crowd as Peter turned a cartwheel after collecting his diploma and shaking the hands of the faculty members.
"Who taught him how to do that?" Randy whispered to Holly.
"I think four girlfriends ago was a gymnast. Or maybe it was five. Who can keep up anymore?"
"Wait a minute. When did Peter start dating?" Randy asked in mock horror.
"When he was eleven," his daughter responded dryly. "Pretty sure he waited until he was at least fourteen before he lost his virginity. I swear, it's a miracle he graduated."
"Would you two zip it," Jennifer hissed.
Randy frowned and shifted on the uncomfortable bench before pulling out the program and taking a moment to estimate the remaining number of graduates. Not surprisingly, considering their family's late position in the alphabet, the estimate he came up with represented under ten percent of the graduates. He was also relieved to see that once the procession of graduates completed, there would be no further speeches which suggested that the ceremony would wrap up with a quickness.
Randy's prediction came true and fifteen minutes after their son crossed the stage, they were collecting their belongings and heading for the parking lot. They made their way through the beginnings of the holiday weekend traffic and managed to arrive home in under thirty minutes.
Preparations for the celebration were mostly complete, but Randy and Jennifer had a busy time of pulling all the food from the chill chest and giving the pool a final skim before people started to arrive. It was a tradition in their upper middle-class enclave for each senior's family to host a graduation party and allow the students to migrate from party to party throughout the afternoon.
Randy spent the next three hours sweating in front of the grill. Normally he would have the company of the Y-chromosome possessing segment of their guests at the grill. But most of their friends were hosting similar parties, so Randy and Jennifer's guests were comprised mostly of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds who were impatient to get to the party planned for that evening at the lake house of one of their wealthier classmates.
As he sweated, he thought back to what was, in his estimation, the world's most uncomfortable conversation which he had somehow found himself having with his son over the course of the prior two weeks. He was unsure of what he had been expecting when he started in on his son about the importance of using protection, but a lengthy dissertation from the younger Vettel on the pros and cons of various brands of prophylactics was certainly not it. The only saving grace of the conversation where his son had made clear his confidence that he would indeed be engaging in intercourse with at least one partner at the upcoming party had been a reasonable certainty that the youngster would do so safely.
Randy spotted Jennifer wandering through the party, collecting garbage and issuing gentle reminders to teenagers about picking up after themselves. She looked quite lovely in the form-fitting sun dress and drew the eyes of not a few teenagers. He could scarcely believe it had been nearly twenty-three years since they got together back in college. He remarked inwardly that she was, if anything, even more lovely now than she had been then. She still had the same breathtaking figure, the same ready smile, the same piercing eyes. Her surprise pregnancy, and their ensuing marriage, had been a strain in their early days but now it seemed a blessing. They were both still reasonably young and Randy's successful career afforded them the ability to enjoy their childless lives in a way that would never have been possible in their twenties.
As afternoon gave way to night, the party transitioned from a destination spot for the graduating seniors to the gathering place for grateful parents. By the time darkness fell, there were several dozen parents ranging in age from late thirties to mid-fifties. The universal topic of conversation was 'what's next?'. Many parents were in the same position Randy and Jennifer had been in two years prior when their eldest, Holly, had graduated but there were a handful who joined the Vettels in the 'finally' category.
Randy found a pair of such fathers along the rear of the property enjoying cigars. As he approached, the taller of the two handed Randy a stogie and a box of matches.
"Got these out of Cuba when they lifted the embargo," his neighbor Nick whispered conspiratorially.
Randy took it with a nod and said, "Are you whispering because you think the feds are listening?"
"Fuck no. My wife."
Tim, a coworker of Randy's, chuckled and said, "I'm pretty sure everyone within a thousand meters knows what we're doing over here."
"Nah. We're downwind of the party. How could they know?"
"Let me guess," Tim offered. "You used to smoke?"
"Yeah. The wife made me quit when our oldest was born. Why?"
"Because smokers have an eternal optimism for believing smoke has magical properties, like not adhering to clothing or remaining confined to a space no bigger than a couple square meters. People that have never smoked, on the other hand, can smell it from across a football pitch. And on clothing? Forget about it. Even washing it won't fool them. Wives are like bloodhounds when it comes to smoke. I guarantee, the only reason no one's raising a fuss is because they've decided to wait until later to give us shit. It sure as hell isn't because they're unaware of our activities."
Nick shook his head and said, "You speak as though your wife has supernatural abilities."
"Yours doesn't?"
"Hell no. She only cares about her social calendar."
