The Knight and the Acolyte Book 8 Chapter 9 The Knight s Passion
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The Night That WasChapter 4 free porn video
The night that was
I picked it up on the second ring. "This is Dan Taylor, can I help you?"
"Hi Dan," came the concerned voice from the other end, "how are you?"
"Hi Bev. I'm okay I guess. At least I think I am. One thing I've learned though, when ever I hear that anxious tone in your voice, I'm never as good as I think I am. What's the matter, Bev?"
There was a short silence from the other end. "Dan, you're getting to know me way too well," she said with a small chuckle.
"Bev, you've been the best friend a person could ever have. You've been able to keep both Diane and me informed of the other's needs, you've been there for both of us when we needed you, and you've done it without alienating either of us. That takes a special talent and a true friend."
"Thank you, Dan. That's very nice of you to say. I love you both, you know that. If there was only a way..."
I knew where she was going. She did love us both and wished there was some way she could get Diane and me back together.
"Bev," I interrupted her, "I know what you're going to say, it would never work, you know that."
"I know Dan. Anyway that's not why I'm calling you. While I was at the house yesterday Diane and the girls were having a conversation. Amy and Marsha wanted Diane to ask you something but Diane said they would have to ask you themselves."
"Ask me what, Bev. The girls know they can ask me anything, anything at all."
"Well," her voice sounding sadder now than when she first called. "The reason Diane is forcing the girls to ask you is because she is hoping they'll chicken out. She knows their question is going to break you heart."
Now it was my turn to be silent. I knew what the question was. The girls were getting so big. Amy was now fourteen and Marsha was eleven. Amy was growing into a beautiful young woman and Marsha was taking a real interest in music. Except for a couple of times, they had spent every week-end with me, but I knew it was just a matter of time before they wanted to spend their week-ends pursuing their own interests. I feared that time was here.
"They don't want to spend the week-ends with me anymore, do they?"
"Dan it isn't they don't want to spend any week-ends with you anymore, just not every one of them, Maybe once a month or so."
"Okay," I just didn't have anymore words to say.
"Dan, I'm sorry. I know how much those week-ends mean to you, but they are growing up."
"Yeah, I know Bev." Tears were forming in my eyes.
"Dan, maybe this will give you a little more time to date. You really need to get out there again. I know you've had your troubles in that regard, but believe it or not Dan, there are good women out there."
"Yeah Bev, but you're taken," I said jokingly. It had been a little over three years since my last heart break. Eileen's betrayal had me questioning my future with any woman. Week-ends with my daughters had been a great distraction from a lot of lonely week-nights. It was also a great excuse as to why I wasn't dating anyone. Truth was ... I was scared to death.
"Dan," Bev's voice broke me out of my thoughts, "the girls are literally anguishing over this. It would be nice if you could stop by the house tonight on your way home and let them off the hook."
"Yeah, absolutely," I said.
"Dan, I am sorry, I know how much this hurts, I can hear it in your voice. Please, please take the opportunity to find someone, or at least do some dating. Jim was threatening, the other day, to send a hooker over to you, just so you could get laid." Bev was doing her best to cheer me up a little.
"Maybe you're right, I don't know, we'll see. I will stop at the house tonight and talk to the girls."
"Okay, thanks Dan. Please, hang in there. You're a great guy, I know she's out there Dan."
Later that day I headed for my former house. The car guided through the suburban streets like it remembered the way. I pulled into the drive, sat in my car and just sighed to myself. One by one it seemed like parts of my old life were being chipped away. The problem was, I had nothing new in my life to fill in those empty spots. Maybe Bev was right, I thought. I do need to find someone. I knew she was right, there were plenty of great women out there, all I had to do was find one.
Diane heard me in the drive and was already opening the door for me as I walked in. I knew immediately she had talked to Bev. She stood in front of me, looked up and rubbed my chest with her hand. This was a familiar gesture. When we were married she did it when ever she knew I had a difficult decision to make. You could almost read the words in her eyes. 'I know how hard this is for you.' The words were never spoken, the look in her face said it all.
I forced a grin and nodded my head. That was my own unspoken message that I was okay.
"Listen," she said, "I bought an extra steak for tonight. How about staying for dinner?"
"Thanks, I'd like that," I answered.
The girls must have heard my voice and came walking down the stairs a little sheepishly. I couldn't help but to admire their courage. I knew they didn't want to tell me. They knew how much I treasured my time with them and what they were about to ask me was going to hurt.
They could have stalled or stayed up stairs, but they came down to face what they had to do. As much as I was aching inside, I was also very proud of my two young ladies.
I could tell Diane was proud as well. She looked at the them, then back at me. She patted my chest a couple of times. I knew her idiosyncrasies so well. I knew the double pat meant she was going to leave me alone with Amy and Marsha and that's just what she did. She turned and headed for the kitchen.
The girls came over and both hugged me at the same time.
"Daddy," Amy, being the oldest, started the talking, "can we talk to you a minute?"
I wasn't about to torture them any longer. Who knew how long they had been wrestling with the problem of telling me. I spoke up right away.
"Ladies," I said trying to keep my voice up beat, "I already know what you want to say."
The girls looked shocked but I think a bit relieved as well.
"Come on over to the couch so we can talk," I said.
Marsha took my hand and we all sat down. "Girls of course you can spend the week-ends doing what you want to do. I'm a little surprised that you didn't think you could ask me though."
Amy was sitting on the arm of the couch with her arms wrapped around my neck. She reached over and kissed me on the cheek. "Well we were afraid we'd hurt you feelings dad."
"Ladies, as much as I wish I could keep you as little girls, I can't. You're growing up. You both have interests, things you want to do on your own. I understand that. Please, don't ever worry about asking or telling me anything ever again."
Both girls hugged me around the neck almost pulling me in two different directions at once.
Just then I felt a hand on shoulder. Diane leaned down from behind the couch and spoke softly into my ear.
"I have coffee made, or would you rather have a vodka and tonic about now," she said with a smile.
She must have talked to Bev right after our conversation. We never kept liquor in the house. I knew, between the vodka and the extra steak, she made a special trip to the store just for me. I almost felt guilty not taking the drink, but I didn't like to drink in front of the kids. Not that I was trying to hide anything from them but I felt it was always better to lead by example.
"Just the coffee for right now," I said, "thanks."
It turned out to be a nice evening. After dinner I helped the kids with their homework. There was still a little time left before bed so we all sat around and watched some TV.
After we both put the girls to bed, Diane told me I could come over any time during the week and spend time with them. On the way out she gave me the unopened liquor bottles.
"Here," she said with a kiss on the cheek, "I know you're going to want this later."
I had to admit, Diane was a great ex-wife.
That evening I sat in the silence of my own home, and was now sipping a vodka and tonic. All my life I always tried to maintain an up beat attitude never letting anything get me down for too long. I was always joking around and trying to make people laugh. There were times though, when I just couldn't help being a little melancholy. This was one of those times.
I was remembering the good times with Diane. Hell, they weren't good, they were great. For so many years we were so much in love, so happy together. I just couldn't figure out how we lost that.
There was a time when I just couldn't wait to get home to her loving arms. Just the touch of those soft lips on mine when I walked in the door made me the happiest man on earth. I would give anything to recapture that feeling. I just didn't think it was possible anymore, not with Diane, and maybe not with anyone.
Diane and I were both different people since the divorce. She was still living a life of celibacy. That I didn't understand at all. I had never asked that of her and it pissed me off when I thought about it. If it wasn't for her infidelity we'd still be together. It's like closing the barn door after the horses have escaped. I didn't know if she was doing it to show me she could be loyal or if she had given up sex all together?
She told me once that men didn't interest her anymore, that she was going to devote her life to our kids. That's admirable, of course, but it also made me question what life with her would be like again. We didn't make love at all for the last two years of our marriage. On numerous occasions I tried talking to her but she was always so ambivalent. She would tell me it was a phase she was going through, that she would eventually snap out of it. One time she said it had something to do with her step-father but couldn't explain it.
I put up with it for several reasons, one was the kids. They were unaware of the problems. In their eyes we were still a happy family and I wanted to stay together as long as I could for their sake.
Another reason was my own hope, as foolish as it was. It was so hard to give up something that was so good at one time. You think to yourself, if you wait long enough maybe things will return to the way they were.
Then of course there was denial. For months before the end I had my suspicions of infidelity, strong suspicions, especially after her comment about Jerry's wife, Samantha at the Christmas party, but there was nothing concrete ... not until the night I caught her.
There is no way I could go through all that again.
No, I have to accept the fact that, that part of my life is over and I must move on. Somewhere there must be a woman with whom I can recapture those feelings of love and trust. Bev is a pretty smart lady. I think I'll take her advice and use my new found week-ends to get back in the ball game.
It's just so damn scary!
The next day I was still a little bummed out about my week-ends with the kids. We had decided this week I would pick them up Sunday morning and drop them off later that night. That gave me Friday night, all day Saturday and Saturday night to do something.
My mind was still in a fog when I walked into the studio and saw I already had a message waiting for me on my phone. I hit the play button as I took my coat off and hung it up.
"Mr. Taylor, my name is Peter Hoover. I'm an editor at Pendleton and Brainerd publishers in New York. I'd like to talk to you about your book proposal." The message went on with some contact information then ended.
I was stunned. It's been almost a year since I sent all that stuff in. I had been trying to interest a publisher in producing a book of my work. I sent samples of a variety of stuff but no one was interested, or so I thought anyway. I got rejection letters from most and nothing at all from the rest. Could this company really be calling about it now, after all this time? Well, only one way to find out, I thought.
I dialed the number and got Mr. Hoover on the other end of the line.
"Mr. Taylor, thank you for calling back so soon. I forgot you're an hour behind us out there in Chicago."
"That's alright, Mr. Hoover, how can I help you?" I asked, hoping I knew what he was going to say.
"Mr. Taylor normally we don't look at unsolicited material, but you do good work. The samples you sent us were just great. I showed them around the offices here and got all kinds of oooohhhs and aaaahhhhs, but to be honest, we wouldn't be interested in publishing a book of photographs."
Okay, I thought, I knew it was too good to be true. I wondered if this guy was some kind of sadist that he had to call and reject me personally, of course why not, that seemed to be the way my whole week was going.
Mr. Hoover continued. "However, I had an idea that I kicked around with some of the other editors and they thought it had possibilities, so I brought to the publishing board and they approved it."
"Ah, Mr. Hoover, I'm sorry but you've lost me. What ideas?" Now I was confused.
"Well," he said in a friendly voice, "we'd like to put your photography together with a book of poetry. Each poem would be a reflection of one of your photos. As you opened the book, the left hand page would have the poem and the right hand page with contain your photograph. What do you think?"
"Well I guess it sounds okay to me," I said, "as long as the poetry is good. I have to admit, I'm not really into poetry. I would have to refer to you guys on that."
"Well," he said, "that could be a problem. We would need the book resubmitted in its final form."
"You mean I have get the poetry?"
"Yeah, but it may not be as difficult as it sounds. Are you familiar with Fayette, Illinois?" he asked.
"Sure, it's about two hundred miles south west of Chicago, why?" I had no idea where this conversation was going.
"Well," said Mr. Hoover, "there is a woman who lives there who has sent us a couple manuscripts. Her name is Suzanne Evers, but she goes by Sue. Unfortunately a book of poems is a hard sell but her work is very good and I believe she would do a great job on the poetry for your book."
"You mean collaborate with this woman poet? I don't know, this is starting to sound like it's going to be more work than it's worth. Hell," I said, "I don't have time to keep running back and forth to Fayette all time."
As soon as I said it I thought, wait a minute, I have nothing to do on week-ends anymore ... maybe I do have the time.
Mr. Hoover sounded a little disappointed in my last statement, I could tell by the tone of his voice. "Mr. Taylor, I'm sorry you feel that way. I kind of built the project up around here and was hoping to publish it. I should have asked you first I guess."
"Ah, hold on, Mr. Hoover," I realized I was letting an opportunity slip through my fingers. "I've just had my week-ends freed up, do you think this woman would be willing to work on it during the week-ends?"
"I would think she would have to work on it then, Mr. Taylor, she has a full time job during the week. Here's what I would like to do. I have not talked to her at all about this yet. I don't know, she may not even be interested, but I kind of doubt that. I'd like to tell her about our proposal then give her your number. If she's interested you guys could work it out between the two of you. Just call me back and let me know if it's a go or not. How does that sound to you?"
"Yeah, that would be fine," I said.
"Good, I'll tell her to call you one way or another. If she says no would you do me a favor and let me know?"
"Sure, no problem," I said. We left the conversation there and I started getting ready for an ad shot I was doing for a line of women's shoes.
The more I thought about the book the more I thought the project might be fun. It would certainly fill up my week-ends. I found myself really hoping this woman would call and say okay.
Of course I didn't want to admit it to myself but if I was busy with the book it would give me another excuse. I could tell myself, 'I don't have time to get out there and start dating again, I'm too busy with the book.'
It was well into the afternoon of the next day and I was about to give up on the lady poet calling me when the phone rang. It was her and she was very interested in Mr. Hoover's idea.
"Mr. Taylor..."
I interrupted her. "Ah, since we maybe working together," I said, "why not call me Dan."
"Okay Dan, thank you. You can call me Sue. Like I was saying, I hate to make you drive all the way down here especially since we don't even know for sure if we're going to do anything or not. Have you been to Starved Rock state park?" she asked.
"Sure, I've been there."
"Why don't we meet there Saturday morning. That's about half way between you and me. We can meet by the big fireplace in the club house."
"That would be great," I said, "but how will I know you?"
"I have a pair of red, corduroy pants," she said with a little chuckle, "you can't miss them. Could you be there about nine o'clock?"
About seven-thirty Saturday morning I threw a camera in the seat of my car and started out for Starved Rock with a good sample of my photography in hand. I was feeling pretty good in spite of not being with my kids. A new project, something different, maybe this is just what I need to get my juices flowing again, I thought.
I know it's not nice but we all do it. I already had a mental picture of Sue in my head from her voice. I visualized her as a short, heavy set, kind of frumpy elderly lady. After all, she wrote poetry.
I was pleasantly surprised when I spotted a pair of red corduroy pants. The woman wearing them was in her mid thirties. Her shoulder length auburn hair framed a very pretty face and, although very petite, she had a striking figure. We introduced ourselves and found a quiet corner where we could sit and talk. We each had samples of our work and I had to admit, for someone who knew nothing about poetry, I really like what I read.
Her words were abstract, yet she was able to use them in a way that described her most intimate feelings and thoughts. I became an instant fan.
At the same time she was impressed with my photos. It didn't take long before we both knew we were going to do this book together. Our excitement built as we exchanged one idea after another and talked about the endless possibilities and the intercourse between words and pictures.
It wasn't until we both became conscience of our hunger that we realized we had been talking for hours. It was after one o'clock all ready.
"Lunch is on me," I said.
As we studied the menus the conversation turned from the book to more personal subjects. I learned Sue worked as a counselor at a local college in Fayette and had a Masters degree in literature. We both loved rock and roll music and had the same list of favorite bands.
Sue was trying desperately to remember the title of her favorite song but her mind was temporarily a blank. Then, just as our young waitress came to the table with our salads, Sue remembered the song and blurted out, "Easy to be hard."
Suddenly, realizing how it sounded when taken out of context, Sue, as well as our waitress, started turning a crimson shade of read.
Of course this was way too good an opportunity to let pass and I immediately came back with, "I see you're used to dating younger men." Our poor waitress turned away from our table and almost choked trying to stifle a laugh and Sue had her head buried in her hands.
The rest of the lunch was enjoyed with good conversation. I was actually having fun so when Sue asked if I wanted to hike some of the trails in the park, I readily agreed. I took my camera and got several pictures of Sue against a back drop of mountains, caverns, and the Illinois river.
It had been a full day and was getting dark by the time I walked Sue to her car. We discussed our schedule and the next time we could get together. The following week-end I had my girls both Saturday and Sunday so we set up a tentative meeting in two weeks. She unlocked her door then turned to say good-bye. I was about to extend my hand to shake hers when she reached up, put her left hand around my neck and gently pulled my head down giving me a tender kiss on the lips.
To say I was shocked is probably and major understatement. She smiled.
"I really did enjoy myself today," she said in a rather seductive voice, "I'll be looking forward to our next meeting."
With that she opened her car door and with in moments was headed out the parking lot exit.
I'm not sure how long I stood there wondering what just happened but I know the night air was getting cold.
The following week-end I spent with Amy and Marsha. There was absolutely nothing more precious to me than the time I spent with them. When I brought them home they told me they both had planes for the next Saturday and Sunday. Diane suggested I come over for dinner again one night during the week so I could still spend some time with them. I gratefully accepted.
The following week Sue and I talked several times over the phone and decided I would drive to Fayette Saturday morning to work on the book at her place.
On the way down my mind kept going back to the kiss in the parking lot. I really didn't know how to take it. Was she showing me she was interested or was it just her way. Hell, I'd only known her a day, how the heck am I supposed to know.
Whatever her intensions, I thought, I am not jumping into anything. My score with women so far was women-3, Dan-0. Of course to be fair, that wasn't really the case. I had some wonderful years with Diane and two great kids. I regretted the loss and the pain but I sure didn't regret the marriage. Those early years were the best years of my life and I wouldn't trade them for anything.
Cathy was just a fling for a few months. I knew going into that relationship it was temporary. Other than great sex, there was no real emotion there.
Eileen, however, got to me. I know I never loved her as much as I loved Diane, but I did love her.
I pulled into a nice looking apartment complex, found the sticker with Sue's name on it, and rung the bell. The apartment was very nice with skylights in the bedroom and the kitchen. There was also a wonderfully large balcony that stretched from the living room to her bedroom.
Except for going out for lunch we spent most of the day there going over some of the poetry she had written using several of my photos for inspiration.
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