[August 2005]

Several months and many thoughts later, I knew I needed emotional closure. I had gotten past the anger and the tears. I've never been one to let anything kick my ass for too long before moving on. I know and like myself and within that self-acceptance is the acknowledgement that I, like everyone else, deserve to be happy, but unlike many who believe happiness is found by having a significant other, I believe happiness comes from within. In order to be happy, I have to be at peace with myself, yet peace wasn't something I had felt in quite some time.  My mind was in turmoil and I felt as if I had unfinished business where The Wizzard was concerned.

After couple months of silence, I broke down and called him after New Years. Oh God, just the sound of his voice made all the feelings come rushing back. I couldn't believe how much I wanted him. He said he was happy to hear from me and we slowly resumed contact with each other. At one point he even mentioned seeing each other again. Yes, I wanted that, but yes, I was afraid, too. After haggling over when and where,I started making plans to go to Texas the next month. Nothing in life is cut in stone, so I cautiously stepped into the next chapter.

I thought some distance would allow me to get a handle on my feelings, but being away from The Wizzard only made me want him more. Soon after returning home, we started making plans to spend Memorial Day together. Once again he planned to come here and we'd spend a week-end at our spot on the river. Another episode of intense bliss or bliss in tents! How could I not want that or someone who so eagerly wants to be with me?

This time The Wizzard would meet my whole family and help throw a birthday party for my daughter. I figured if he could survive a family get together then he could handle anything. When the time came, the funny thing was how well he seemed to fit in and also enjoy himself. We made a tray full of Jell-O shots the night before and I enjoyed the thought of having my adult children feeling comfortable enough around me to have a real "party". I played hostess and spent most of my time in the kitchen while everyone mingled and ate the feast I had prepared. When my parents were getting ready to leave, my mother walked up to The Wizzard, put her hands on his face and told him what a nice face he has. She also told him she would like to paint his portrait. He seemed surprised by her openness and flattered by her offer. I knew that was her way of showing approval. With both my mother and father getting elderly, them seeing me happy and with someone who is a decent human being meant a lot to me.

We decided not to go camping, but to stay at my house and spend our time there. We visited the local sites and one evening I made a fondue feast for us. We discovered what a pleasure it was to our taste buds to eat chocolate covered strawberries and bananas. We lingered at the table talking to each other and just enjoyed being in the company of someone we really liked. After dinner when I got up to clean up, he started to join in to help me. I motioned for him to sit where he was and I'd do the clean up by myself. He several times attempted to get up, but each time I told him to sit still and just talk to me. As I worked, he quizzically looked at me, but did as I asked.

When I had finished, we went into the living room. It was there I asked him if he wanted to know why I didn't let him help. He knew I had some point to make, yet he hadn’t figured out what it was. I eagerly told him that I wanted to show him how most women live with and what kind of relationships they have. He looked puzzled...almost as if he really didn’t understand. I told him I wanted him to know how much I appreciate the kind of man he is, but I wanted to show him by demonstrating through comparison. I went on to tell him many men let their woman do it all. The only difference with my scenario and reality was that many men would have retired to the living room right after finishing dinner to watch TV while their mate put away the food, did the dishes and finished whatever other tasks needed to be done before relaxing. I explained how a woman's day doesn't end when she walks in the door after working all day.

We went on to discuss how the man would feel rested and in the mood for romance in the bedroom at the end of the day while his partner was tired and many times felt unappreciated. I explained how many women hold their negative feelings in over time and after awhile they just lose interest in the man they married. It seemed to make sense to him, but he assured me that wasn’t the case with him. He had always been a champion of women’s rights and tried very hard to treat women with the respect they deserved. In fact, it pained him to know that his efforts of the last 20 years had been in vain and apparently had gone unappreciated. We seemed to be able to discuss anything and went on that weekend to have a very frank talk about rebound relationships and how we felt for each other. He felt that what we had wasn't a rebound for him because from what he understood about rebound relationships they were supposed to take place with someone a person wouldn't ordinarily get involved with. He reassured me that in his case that wasn't the case and that he wanted to be able to have a normal relationship with me in the near future. By the time he left, I felt even closer to him and positive that we had started something that was going to go the distance.

Before leaving he asked me if I would attend another regatta with him in about 3 weeks. I would be able to meet his good friends, the couple who had given him advice on how to act the first time he met me. I felt elated that he wanted me to meet his friends and that he wanted to continue this relationship we had started. When he was getting ready to leave, he typed a message for me reassuring me that our feelings were quite mutual. He needn't worry, I'd be at that regatta even if I had to walk to get there.

Hey, Hot stuff,
This is to let you know that I expect your sweet ass
in Houston in time for the Houston Regatta. I mean it!
Should you choose to not cum I would be awfully
depressed & despondant.
On the lighter side, I want you to make preparations
for making yourself closer to me. Whether it is me
coming here or you going there, I do not care. Let's
just do it! If you could get an academic program
guide to the local schools I will get my transcript
& see what fits. OK? OK.
I'm looking for you in my dreams.

 

 

The Wizzard

Letting him go this time was difficult, but I kept telling myself we'd see each other in a few weeks, so that made it a little easier to let go. When he left, we talked on the phone several times during his drive back to Texas with the last time being as he approached the outskirts of where he lives. He felt a curtain of loneliness and dread surround him. He told me before hanging up that the day he is free he'll be heading East to Florida to either move here or to come get me to bring me back to Texas until we figured out where to go and what to do. He said he was sure about his feelings, but I'll see how well he remembers his words when the time finally comes when he’s free.

I put off my flight for several more days, but I knew the day would soon come that I would leave. As much as I wanted to stay, the reality of him having to take care of all the problems that were lurking in his life and that would always be an obstacle to our having a real relationship were screaming at me. But for now I didn't have to think about going or listen to my inner voice. For now we could just enjoy each other and not think about the future.

The Wizzard amazed me at how truly playful he was. This was something that intrigued me about him right from the start. He definitely was in touch with his inner child, yet he wasn't juvenile in his playfulness. Life hadn't robbed him of his sense of adventure and maybe his current situation made him crave excitement more than it normally would. Anything he wanted to try I was up for and vice versa. The more I got to know about The Wizzard, the more similarities I found in us. Our biorhythms were even very similar. We slept at weird times, shared many of the same outlooks on life and both were very sexual people. We even liked the same weird salad dressing, preferred sweet pickles and didn‘t drink coffee or tea. One evening instead of cooking dinner or going out, we decided to "graze" instead. He prepared a small feast of culinary delights that were all finger foods. It was something simple, but seemed to set the mood for the evening. Something basic, almost primal and very sensual.

Each day we spent together, a little more in sync we became. The process was weird to watch. I have always found myself in relationships with people much different than myself. They say opposites attract, yet this time the attraction seemed to be based on mutual similarities. We developed an ease at discussing things that it takes many people years to be able to discuss and we seemed very serene with being able to just be ourselves with each other without fear of being judged. For the first time in a very long time I felt being weird was okay and even welcomed!

One afternoon, The Wizzard went to his dresser and got a set of dice he had tucked away under his carefully folded underwear. I never did go into what a neat freak The Wizzard is and how I was delighted when I saw how his walk-in closet had been organized. All his clothes were separated not only by style (pants, long-sleeve shirts, short-sleeve shirts, etc), but also grouped by color. When he brought the dice back to the bed I discovered they were special dice. One had various body parts on each side and the other had various activities. I'm sure the point to the game is pretty obvious. It was silly almost at how much fun we had rolling those dice and playing the game. Once again, we got lost in pleasing each other.

When the day came for me to pack, I waited until he was out of the room doing something that would keep him occupied for awhile. I felt a numbness come over me while I packed and when he finally came in the bedroom to see what I was doing, he stopped and just stood silent for a several moments watching me. He finally told me I didn't need to pack and threatened me with having so much sex that I wouldn't be able to walk and thus wouldn't be able to get on the plane. The truth of the matter was he almost accomplished that and if it had not been for his own back bothering him, I think he might have succeeded.

The morning of D-day he presented me with a "good bye" card that wasn't all sugar coated, yet said exactly what he was feeling. He didn't want me to go! I read the card many times before putting it in my suitcase for safe keeping. When he reluctantly loaded my luggage in the back of his truck, he threw his back out of whack. At first I thought he was just kidding, but I quickly saw it wasn't an act, but the real thing. He was in serious pain! On the way to the airport, he promised me he would go see his doctor that afternoon.

I knew we were both dreading the scene at the airport. We'd already both cried after I finished packing. Men aren't supposed to do that, but as he sat next to me on the bed, he took my hand and squeezed it. When he did that my eyes filled with tears and so did his. I didn't want that to happen again at the airport, but as we approached the terminal I could feel I was right on the edge again. We stood by the back of the truck as it was parked in front of the terminal. We embraced! Letting go of him was the hardest thing I had ever had to do. I forced myself not to cry and I just walked away without looking back. I couldn't look back! Once inside the terminal, I called him on my cell phone and immediately he asked if I wanted him to come back for me. Yes, I did...more than anything I wanted him to come back, but I needed to go home. I used the call as an opportunity to remind him to go see a doctor and to thank him for the wonderful time we had together.

I sat in the airport waiting for my flight thinking about his grocery list. I smiled! As I was leaving his house, I walked to the counter where he leaves his grocery list and wrote "I love you" on it. He might not see it today, but the next time he added something to the list he'd see what I had written. I knew he already knew I loved him without me writing it or saying it. Hopefully, the discovery of those powerful words wouldn't scare him off, but be the icing on the cake.

Friday we delivered a sailboat to where the Leukemia Cup regatta would take place starting on Saturday morning. Driving 75 mph pulling a huge sailboat behind us was an eye opening experience for me, but one he had obviously done many times. We had tentatively made plans to camp out that night, but changed our minds when it had turned cold and started to rain. We went back to The Wizzard's house and spent the night. When we awoke it was very early Saturday morning. It seems our internal clocks were synchronized to wake up around 4am each morning. I gave him a "happy birthday" wake up call as we rolled around the sheets until it was time to get up and leave. We had packed the night before, so all we needed to do was get showered, get dressed, pack the truck and leave. As soon as we pulled out of the driveway something was wrong with the truck. A belt had broken! We immediately went in search of an auto parts store and waited for it to open. The Wizzard bought the belt he needed and put it on and away we went.

Sailing isn't much of a spectator sport, so there weren’t many people for me to mingle with during the 1st day of the regatta. The weather was cold and rainy in the morning, but cleared off as the afternoon grew to a close. I walked around the grounds and watched the race through a pair of binoculars. That evening at the festivities as The Wizzard mingled with people and drummed up business for himself, I got to know a few people a little better. The regatta had live music, a buffet dinner and free drinks. A great combination to make for a nice birthday celebration. We also had brought a magnum of champagne for our own private birthday celebration.

An incident that happened while sailing had gotten The Wizzard angry with the crew of another boat. They had rammed the boat he was sailing and caused a small hole in it, yet the other boat was not penalized for that. The crew of the other boat started acting cocky about it and tried taunting The Wizzard about getting away with the whole thing. What should have happened was a disqualification, but the owner of the boat was wealthy, influential and the commodore of one of the other Yacht Clubs. This was a prime example of money buying its way out of a situation and it made The Wizzard furious!.

I had met the owner of the other boat the day before when he approached me while I was sitting on the upper deck to the club waiting for The Wizzard to finish the registration process. A man came over to where I was sitting and sat down next to me. He started talking to me about sailing. I let him know immediately that I knew virtually nothing about sailing and that I wasn't on the crew of any of the boats. He quickly questioned me as to who I was with and when he found out I was with The Wizzard, he wanted to know how we knew each other. That seemed to be the question everyone wanted to know! He introduced himself as Dick and went on to praise The Wizzard for being a pro. He told me I'd learn alot if I stuck with him. After a few minutes two women seemed to zero in on the man who was talking to me. They rushed over as to rescue him, but neither of them introduced themselves nor did they say anything at all to me. They quickly ushered Dick off elsewhere. I got the feeling from the looks they gave me that he had been fraternizing with the enemy. When The Wizzard appeared just a minute later, he commented that he had seen I had met Dick. He asked if I knew who he was. Of course I didn't know who he was! I had just met him. Apparently, he was the heir to some huge corporation and one of the two women that came to his rescue was his wife (deck fluff???). No wonder I got sized up by both of the women and continued to be sized up by them for the next two days..

When the taunting started to get heated, the security started surrounding the group. I figured it was time for The Wizzard and I to go pitch the tent and celebrate by ourselves. I know how boys can be boys and this spat didn't need to escalate into anything physical. I simply went over to him and whispered," let's go". He looked at me and shook his head.

We set up camp down by the lake. The moon was full so the lake and the surrounding grounds were a a perfect backdrop for a romantic evening. We broke out the champagne and celebrated in peace. The Wizzard at one point looked at me and jokingly accused me of being drunk. For some reason that revelation struck us both as being hysterical. We started laughing and he thanked me for sharing his birthday with him. He said it was the best one he had in years and was glad I was with him to make it all possible. When we finally went in the tent, The Wizzard had the "twirly beds". I took pity on him and we both just fell asleep cuddled up together. I fell asleep with a smile on my face and woke up with one the next morning.

I had pulled up stakes while the races were going on and packed the truck, so The Wizzard wouldn't have to do that after racing all day. He seemed surprised when he saw I had done that and commented on not being used to a woman doing that sort of stuff. I jokingly told him that being a girl scout leader had trained me to be prepared among other things! Anytime I was helpful, he seemed almost unsure of how to react. I could tell it was a new experience for him and one he probably would have no trouble getting used to quickly. The races had gone well except for the incident of the hole in the boat and the ceremony at the end of the day concluded the regatta. Trophies and prized were given out and then we left without staying for dinner and more celebrating.

Back at his house the mood grew somber, we knew we had only one more full day together before I was going to leave. So far we both had avoided talking about me leaving. He made comments on the ride back to his house how he knew I felt comfortable at his house and with him because I hung my clothes in the closet and put the rest of them in the dresser and didn't live out of a suitcase while I was there. He also told me that it made him feel good to see my things hanging in the closet. I reminded him that he had told me to hang my stuff up when I had gotten there and to unpack. He remembered telling me that, but said he wasn't sure if I'd actually do what he had suggested. When I unpacked the next morning after arriving, he knew I felt safe and wanted to be there with him. I guess men look for signs, also. They just aren’t very vocal about it most of the time. Later that evening, I was surprised when he came right out and told me he didn't want me to go and then asked me if I'd stay longer or not go at all. I told him I'd see if I could change my flight to a later date and we'd go from there. As much as I didn’t want to leave, I knew the longer I stayed it would only cause problems for him.

I pride myself in being an intelligent woman. I knew it was only a matter of time before HRH found out about me. I know how women's minds work. Although we may not want someone, often times we feel jealousy if that person finds someone to replace us and actually has the audacity to appear happy. I figured it was a slap in her face to have me paraded around at the Yacht Club even though we never showed any public displays of affection. I'm sure people figured out that I was more than just a friend to The Wizzard. I'm also pretty sure some well-meaning person told her that he had a woman with him the race and also on Saturday night. I believe she picked a time when she knew he wouldn't be at home to show up. I think she did that to see what was really going on, but what she discovered was more than what she thought she was going to find. She told The Wizzard she had come by to get her bicycle, but two days earlier she had told him she didn't want it when he offered to bring it to her.

The rest of the week went by smoothly with us doing stuff together during the day and then cooking meals together in the evening. It seemed strange to have a man who did domestic things like cooking, but he had spent the last 20 years not only working, but doing the majority of housework, laundry, cooking, etc. because HRH wasn't the domestic type. We actually had fun being in the kitchen together and seemed to fall into a natural rhythm of who did what. Of course, I used the opportunity of being in a small space to take advantage of him. Seducing him was always so much fun! After finding out HRH wasn't into performing oral sex, I delighted in having my way with him right there in the kitchen. I couldn't believe how anyone could be married for 20 years and not to have explored each other's bodies completely.

Over the course of the week, I made sure we christened each room. We almost broke the dining room table and did break the double recliner in the TV room. I enjoyed going up to his office while he was trying to work and playfully kissing him on the neck. This always lead into sessions of spontaneous, hot, steamy sex. His eagerness to be physical only told me how starved he was for any attention and for real sexual intimacy. He showed me all the "how to" books that he had purchased over time in hopes that something in one of them might rekindle a spark in HRH. He tried endless lovemaking techniques, yet she remained unresponsive and icy during the infrequent times they made love. What I found was a man who really knew how to please a woman and took great pleasure in doing so. How could going through menopause or having an ill mother be enough reason not to want him to make love to her? I just couldn't imagine not wanting him to touch me or to be close to me under any circumstances.

The Wizzard seemed so open to me, yet I remained slightly guarded because I knew there was always a chance that HRH might want him back at any given moment. In fact, I was figuring she'd do just that to get him away from me. I asked myself what I'd do if that happened, but never had an answer that made sense. I just figured I’d deal with things as they happened...if they happened! I looked for signs that he really wanted me and this just wasn‘t some rebound thing. The first sign that maybe I stood a chance came when something small happened about halfway through my visit. One morning I went upstairs to check my email while he was outside in the garage working. I discovered he had put my pictures as wallpaper on his two computer screens. I couldn't believe how something that small made me so happy.

During the week as he worked on some sails, he also designed and made some restraints that fit to the frame of his bed. Someone in those things wouldn't be able to get out and would be completely at his mercy. After he had left Pensacola on Easter Day, I made some coupons giving the bearer of them special privileges. I sent him one via email redeemable for "sex any way you want it as long as you want it". Upon arriving in Texas, I found he had printed the coupon out. It was only after he redeemed that coupon did I discover he had printed out many more and had them all over his house. Upon finishing the restraints we had a session of trying them out. I got a little freaked out at first and that surprised me, but as my trust in him increased, we did manage to have success in playing with them.

As the week wore on, I made the observation that HRH always picked evening to call and find some reason to keep him on the phone for an extended period of time. It wasn't until I pointed it out to him before he realized what she was up to and decided to turn the ringer on the phone off and turn his cell phone off also. This to me was another sign that he was moving away from her grasp. Each day I felt closer to him than the day before and I could see the feelings were being reciprocated. Each day he did something that made me feel more at ease and like he was paying attention to me.

The next day we just hung out until The Wizzard had to attend class. He gave me the option of going with him, but I felt a little time away from each other might make him come back missing me. That thought brought a smile to my face. I told him I could watch a movie, play on the computer, cook dinner for us or go for a bike ride while he was gone. After he left I did some laundry and while the clothes were drying I went upstairs to his office and checked my email. I sat there daydreaming about the day before and wondered just how much talk he and I had stirred up.

I hadn't been daydreaming long before my thoughts were interrupted by a female’s voice yelling "hello?" I responded with a "hello". The Wizzard's office is an open loft that looks out over the greatroom below. I turned in his swivel chair to face the greatroom only to see a woman standing there looking up at me. She was visibly annoyed and hatefully said "You must be Belinda!" I said, "No, I’m Karen." I assumed her next move was going to be to inquire about my presence there, but no such question ever came. She then told me to tell Tom that his wife (she emphasized the word "wife") came by and I told her I would do that as soon as he returned home. I purposely didn’t get up and make any attempt to go down stairs because I could see and hear how angry she was. Before saying anything else she turned and left the house slamming the door. I’m smart enough to know there’s two sides to every story, but after that performance I had no trouble believing that HRH was every bit the Ice Queen that I had been told she was.

In the morning when it came time to leave to go sailing, I realized I knew nothing about what I was about to experience. So with absolutely no preparation, we arrived at the Yacht Club. I was excited, but also apprehensive from not knowing what to expect. I felt like a virgin awaiting carnal knowledge for the first time. Everyone who greeted us seemed to hold The Wizzard in very high esteem, but I could also tell they were taking mental note of him being on sacred ground with another woman. I tried my hardest to ignore the speculative looks and just did what I was told to do as soon as we got on board the boat.

The Wizzard placed me with the crew member who he thought would take care of me the best during the race. I was instructed to do whatever Maniac Mike told me to do and to stay with him. As soon as the race began, the maneuvers were fast paced and done with amazing precision. I managed to stay with Mike and as I did, he explained to me all the maneuvers and why they were happening as they did. It became apparent why The Wizzard had placed me along side Mike. The hardest part for me was rolling back and forth across the deck under the boom as to not get hit by it and launched off the boat and thrown in the water. The deck of the boat had a non-skid surface on it that began to tear up the backs of my legs as I rolled back and forth. By the end of the afternoon, I realized wearing shorts was not the thing to do and that if I ever went sailing again during a race, I'd wear long pants.

As the crew talked to me and found out I had never been sailing, they laughed because they couldn't believe The Wizzard had chosen to have my maiden voyage be during a race. They all said the same thing. "This isn't sailing! This is racing!" I came to realize quickly he had done that to see what I was made of and how I would react to the whole experience. I was introduced to his world as if I was a gladiator being thrown into the arena. Whining about the flesh scraped off the backs of my legs wasn't even an option.

The race itself was incredible. We were flawless and left all the other boats behind. It was as if the wind only filled our sails as we glided through the water. I was truly impressed at how the crew functioned as a team and how sailing was actually a lot of hard work. I watched The Wizzard as he directed the 8-man crew into victory. In fact, at the end it was almost like we weren't in a race at all because we were so far ahead of the other boats. As the gun was fired signaling our victory, we headed back to the Yacht Club. It was over 10 minutes after we had crossed the finish line before the next boat finished the race.

The ride to The Wizzard's house was filled with much anticipation and once inside his house, he quickly lit a fire in his fireplace and poured me a glass of champagne to celebrate my arrival. We settled into a comfortable position cuddled up next to each other in front of the fire. Conversation of what we were going to do while I was there was gradually replaced by gentle caresses and passionate kisses. Soon the effects of having a very long day caught up with both of us and The Wizzard guided me to his bedroom. Once in bed, I could tell he had missed me because he pulled me close to him and held me while we continued to talk. Things gradually heated up between us until the conversation was silenced by the sighs of our passion. Sometime in the early hours of morning, we finally drifted off into sleep. It was the first time in such a long time either one of us had fallen into a peaceful slumber.

During his stay in Pensacola a few weeks earlier, he confided in me that he had made a noose and hung it in a tree in his backyard the night HRH moved out. He had intended to get drunk and end his life, but instead he got drunk and passed out in his backyard before taking his own life. I tried to get him to promise me he would remove the noose when he returned home, but felt he needed it there as a back up plan in case things got to a point of no return. Since we had no mutual friends, there was no one I could call to enlist their help in suicide intervention. I stayed in close contact with him until my arrival there. During the few weeks that had passed since our meeting, I noticed his mood had grown more sullen and he expressed feeling being trapped in a web HRH had spun for him. I would have to say as the reality of what he was facing sank in, his depression deepened and he teetered on the edge between life and death. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t eating. He couldn’t focus on doing simple tasks and going to class even seemed unimportant to him now. He went from being an "A" student to being on the verge of dropping out of school. He went from having a wife to having to take a Xanax just to say her name. Although we had only known each other for a short while, I felt compelled to attempt to help him through the next several weeks.

Upon waking the next morning, I walked into the dining room and started opening the drapes before I fixed breakfast. I felt letting some sunshine in might help aid in uplifting his spirits and brighten what seemed to be a mausoleum in which he lived. When I opened the drapes, I froze in my tracks. Hanging in front of me was a noose in the tree. I immediately made him remove the noose and untie it. I was horrified over the fact that HRH and been in and out of the house many times during the past few weeks while the noose was there, yet had failed to make him remove it. I finally concluded maybe she hadn’t seen it, so I questioned him as to whether or not she had knowledge of the noose. He wept as he told me that she knew it was there, but had only come back to the house to remove more things she wanted from the house and backyard. Quite frankly, I can’t understand how anyone could have walked by that noose without having the same reaction it gave me, yet HRH removed things from the backyard and had to have walked right by where it was hanging. I was only beginning to see the true nature of her iciness and the kind of conditions he dwelled in for many years.

The discovery of the noose made me all the more determined to give him some much needed TLC and not because I felt sorry for him, but because I found myself caring about his ascension from Hell. The Wizzard deserved to be rescued and I set forth on a mission to lead him back into the land of the living. Somehow I would find a way to break her grasp on him. Somehow I would give him some much needed laughter and harmony. We spent the rest of the day in a place far removed from the spot of despair I had found that morning. We ended the day by going out to dinner and to listen to some music. After dinner he wanted to show me the sailboat we'd be on tomorrow during the race. We went to the Yacht Club and I stepped into a world so foreign to me that it made me apprehensive. His love of this sport was contagious and before long I was looking forward to being a part of the experience.

While at the Yacht Club we ran into a few of his friends. I was examined thoroughly and sized up. This was the first time The Wizzard had ever taken a "strange" woman onto hallowed ground. Many of the inner circle still didn't know about their separation and pending divorce. The situation was awkward, but we dealt with it and managed to have fun. I have always had the ability to blend into most situations and the upper class certainly doesn't intimidate me. This was a challenge and one I would dance lightly upon out of respect to him. I certainly didn't want to be the source of more heartache for him. While he was on deck talking to the owner of the sailboat, I stayed below in the cabin being questioned by the other women as to who I am, how I know The Wizzard and what I hoped to gain by being in Texas. “Ladies, I am a saucy tart who has fucked The Wizzard deaf, dumb and blind and hope to do so for as long as I can!”  No, that wasn't what I told them, but it's what they wanted to hear and certainly deserved to hear! They wanted me to tell them I am "deck fluff" (a woman who does her husband hunting at a Yacht Club), but I remained aloof and evasive and answered their questions without giving them much information.   Later The Wizzard told me that many of them were "deck fluff" and they get paranoid over strange women invading their territory. Watch out ladies! I'm on the prowl! I may grab your husband next! The Wizzard and I laughed on the way home over my interrogation...bright lights and rubber hoses are such a turn on for me and he paid dearly for it the rest of the night.

We settled back into our normal routine of chatting everyday and added talking on the phone to our list of things we did on a daily basis. The yahoo group (Abnormally Normal People) I had formed a few months earlier was enjoying the witty repartee that transpired between us on the messageboard. One day in a post to the group, I broadly brought up the topic of people’s first sexual encounters/1st orgasms and the following message was what The Wizzard posted as a response for all to see:

The group applauded our "meeting of the minds" and wasn't surprised when I announced to them I was going to Texas for a "visit" in a few weeks. The time seemed to drag by until I boarded the plane and flew West. My flight got in at midnight, so the airport was rather empty and made the reunion less awkward than it might have been with lots of people around. I could tell he was happy to see me, but also nervous about me being on his turf. We had discussed how we would conduct ourselves in public and agreed the best thing to do was to refrain from any public displays of affection. That might be difficult, but I certainly didn't want to complicate his life any more than what it already was. I just wanted to spend time with The Wizzard and was willing to do it on his terms.

I already knew what people were thinking. We both were getting advice from our friends not to go too fast. Fast? How fast can a person go with someone who lives 800 miles away? I guess the next 10 days would give us some indication what direction we were headed in, if any. If nothing else, I could help him through a difficult time and be there when he needed me. The constant fear of having my heart broken was eating at me. I knew he still loved and wanted his wife and the thought of them possibly working things out and getting back together haunted me. If that happened, I'd just have to deal with it and suffer the consequences of getting involved with a married man. The only other thing that bothered me was being "second choice" and winning his heart by default. So much fear, yet I trudged onward into unknown territory because I had to find out what was really there. I was going to spend the next 10 days in a house filled with her memory. How does one compete with a ghost? I was about to find out!

It was Easter morning and there I lay with someone whose life is coming unraveled and mine seems better than what it has in a long time. I wouldn't  let myself think about that until later today...not until he's no longer with me.  I didn't want to spoil our time together, yet the thought of him departing kept creeping into my thoughts.  The thought of his absense pained me. It was confusing and complex to be awakened quite by surprise by my well-shielded heart.  It had been so long since I had allowed anyone close to me and now I was feeling happy and sad in the same instance.

As we hurried to beat the impending rain, I looked ahead to later that day... of letting him go and not being sure of what fate would have in store for me. Pulling up stakes and loading The Wizzard's truck was a chore neither of us wanted to do. We both were fairly quiet and stopped only to comment on how we'd prefer to stay where we were. We vowed to return to that spot and claimed it officially as being "ours". I wonder how many other lovers before us had done exactly the same thing.

We were back in Pensacola in record time and beat the rain by just minutes. As soon as we were inside my house we decided to get a shower and relax for awhile before he started on his journey home. I wanted these last few hours to last as long as possible, the reality of the laws of physics slapped me in the face when time proceeded at the same rate as it always has. What should I say or do? What could I say or do?

He saw the sadness in me and told me he didn't want to leave, but he had to leave. I knew that and reassured him that I understood, but understanding something doesn't mean a person has to like it, does it? I just smiled and kissed him lightly and thanked him for a wonderful weekend. The thing that stood out most in my mind was that while he was me, I felt he really was with me and not somewhere else with someone else. HRH hadn't invaded our time together and I could see "the therapy session" I had promised him worked wonders on his battered ego and heart.

We lay on my bed still moist from the shower and held each other. He started kissing my damp body and my skin tingled from his soft beard. I sighed deeply and shut my eyes. They filled with tears that I didn't want him to see. I didn't want to spoil the moment, but he was too busy running his tongue on my inner thighs to notice the tears in my eyes. Before long he had me moaning and squirming like he had done each time we had gotten naked. But this time was different. Now, all he wanted was my scent on his beard to savor on his long drive back to Texas. 

As he left, he said he wasn't going to say good bye. He kissed me and then walked out the door. Leaning my back on the frontdoor as if to barricade it, I stood there and listened to his truck leave and fought back the tears. I hated to feel this way, but didn't know what to do with all these feelings. Stuff them down? Wish them away? The fact was, I already missed him and he had just left!

On his way home, he called me a few times...just to talk. When he got close to his destination, he called telling me how he felt a dark cloud suddenly appeared as he grew near to home. His mood had changed and I could hear sadness and tension in his voice again. I could feel the 800 miles. He told me that he had almost turned around a couple of times and came back to me...

I smiled and wanted to tell him that I wished he had.

Building a campfire and tending it is a guy thing. I actually took pleasure in sitting back watching The Wizzard act out the scene from the movie, Castaway as he danced around the fire proclaiming "I have created fire!" I cheered him on while I sat on the large log we had pulled over by the fire to use as a bench. It did both our hearts good to just be ourselves and let that inner child run wild. The unconditional acceptance seemed like a rare quality to find and one we both hadn't had much of in our lifetimes. I was still waiting for the snag! I mean things were too perfect...

As soon as it got dark and the stillness of night set in, the sky was as clear as I can remember ever seeing it. Above was a blanket of stars waiting for me to see. Suddenly the reality of being so secluded crept in and for just a moment, the thought of being with a total stranger miles from nowhere hit me. I didn't panic nor did I show any type of exterior change in my demeanor. I simply studied him as he walked around the fire talking to me about what he'd show me in the telescope. I listened intently as he talked about the heavens with passion. As I watched him, the paranoid thoughts soon vanished. Little did I know that he had similar thoughts about me. Somehow we both came to the same conclusion about each other and we managed to overcome our fears and view the night sky together.

We broke into the second bottle of champagne. By then, I was feeling the effects of the first bottle. I was already giddy and lightheaded when The Wizzard lit a joint and sat next to me on the log. It had been almost 20 years since I had gotten high, but somehow the planets seemed all in alignment and the time seemed right for a complete indulgence into decadence. As we polished off the last of the champagne, he stood and offered me his hand. When I stood, he pulled me to him kissing me and running his hands slowly down my back. He let the moment linger before guiding me to the tent.

Once inside, the intimacy I had been fantasizing about all day began. The fire lit the inside of the tent just enough to break the darkness. We slowly undressed each other, kissing and touching each part as it became exposed. Every thread of my being wanted so much to please him as I whispered, "Tell me what you want!" Some how in asking for guidance and doing the things he wanted me to do, set the pace for mutual intense pleasure. Suddenly as if a dam broke, a powerful gush of fluid wet the sleeping bags. I was hit by a wave of pleasure I had never experienced before, but honestly had thought I had wet myself and immediately got embarrassed.

After showering together in the morning and getting dressed, The Wizzard and I set off to find that perfect campsite. We drove to where his friend had suggested only to find that the area had grown up so much that no campsite existed there now. More visible signs that the quaint, rural Northwest Florida area was becoming civilized! While driving we held hands or touched each other in some way. When I did take my hand away, he would reach for it again and either hold it or put it on his leg. It felt good to be wanted. It felt good to be listened to as I spoke and it felt nice to be doing something with someone who seemed fun.

Ravenous and needing fuel to get through the day, we stopped for brunch at The Cracker Barrel in Destin, a small community along the Gulf of Mexico before finding a place to pitch a tent. With it being a holiday weekend, we figured all the conventional campsites would be full and neither of us really wanted to be right up next to someone else anyway, so we decided to aimlessly wander after eating until we found what we were looking for. As we sat eating brunch, he disclosed that his friends, the couple he had stayed with before coming to see me had told him he needed to take off his glasses and look me in the eyes as he talked to me. He explained to me that they were concerned about him "blowing” it because he had been out of the dating arena for the last 20 years and was rather rusty at the art of romance. So in case either one of them ever asked, he complied with their wishes and sat across the table from me gazing into my eyes as we conversed. Ordinarily I might find this disconcerting or distracting, but at that moment it felt like the right thing to do. The Wizzard had amazing eyes that reminded me of the ocean, blue and very unpredictable. In fact, his friends needn't worry at all because I had gazed into them deeply the day before when we were naked and very intimate. Gazing into them now over brunch seemed quite easy in comparison and alot less erotic.

Upon finishing brunch, we sat on the front porch of the restaurant and played checkers. I think he let me win, but have no real proof of that other than remembering how he used to show me no mercy while playing dominoes online. Now, in person he seemed less competitive and more interested in just having fun. When we left, he suggested I drive because I was familiar with the area. Before long, we were parked at Pensacola Beach and ready to get a few hours of sand and sun. The day had turned into a clear, sunny one with a warm, gentle breeze off the Gulf of Mexico. A perfect day to spend at the beach. Sitting next to him at the water's edge watching him make a sandcastle almost had surreal qualities to it. We leisurely talked about life and our dreams while we watched dolphins frolic in the surf just offshore. He gazed out at the ocean as if he longed to be on it again and told me of days passed and of his love of the ocean. As his back started to turn alittle pink, we decided we had better go find our final destination for the day, a secluded spot along the river.

With him behind the wheel once again, we headed north to the river, stopping only to buy some groceries so we could cook out and have dinner at our campsite. While in the store, The Wizzard again displayed how playful and sensuous he really was by "accidentally" rubbing up against me while we stood in the check-out line. At first, I thought his arm brushing across my breast was an accident, but after it repeatedly happened I realized that it was a very deliberate act and his sly way of being subtly affectionate. I playfully scolded him when we left the store for copping a feel in public and being a pervert.

It didn't take long to finally find the river, but at this point it was getting to be late afternoon and we needed to find a camp site soon so we could set up camp by the light of day. The Wizzard finally decided to take a logging road into the woods, we skirted the river for a few miles until the road dead-ended at the river. What we discovered upon investigation of our surroundings was the very place we had hoped to find...a primitive campsite meant just for us. As we unloaded the truck and set up camp, I could tell that The Wizzard wasn't used to having a female help him do anything, but he welcomed me being a part of the whole experience as I did whatever he needed me to do in order to get all the work done quicker.

[Easter Weekend 2004]

Once inside my house I finally saw the man I had spent countless hours with on the computer up front and personal. Tall and bearded with a firm, but gentle touch. Manly with a mixture of charisma and intelligence. What stood before me looked almost like a cross between what a sea captain and a college professor would look like. And yes, he appealed to me! In the light, what I saw was a person who was visibly nervous and looked unsure of his fate. I knew I wasn't an axe murderer, but did he? His whole demeanor was like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He did, however manage to ask to use my bathroom and disappeared into it quickly. The restroom I showed him was the one off the master bedroom. It was closest to where we were standing and I felt maybe being in my room would make talking to me easier when he reappeared.

I was so concerned with making him feel comfortable that I had forgotten to be nervous myself. Somewhere between the time he pulled up in front of my house and when I sat down on my bed, my fretting ceased, I switched gears and slid into a whole new mode. When the Wizzard stepped out of the bathroom, what he found was me propped up on my bed and motioning to him to come sit on the bed with me. He did as requested and sat there looking at me for a moment or two. I asked him if he was nervous. He nodded and quickly looked away. Almost instinctively, I reached out and touched his face turning it back towards me. Gazing deep in his eyes, I asked him if he minded if I got more comfortable. I knew that my next move would either calm him down or scare him away completely.

I sat on the bed next to him and started taking off my clothes. I purposely avoided looking at him as I stripped down to nothing. When I was naked I leaned forward and kissed him passionately. At first, I could feel the tension in him and almost expected him bolt out the door in panic, but as the kiss heated up, his body finally responded and he embraced me eagerly. His nervousness subsided and was replaced with lust as we rolled around my king-size bed engaging in playful, yet highly erotic sex. My responsiveness seemed to drive him crazy with passion and before we both collapsed into a brief nap, we had had sex several times.

Later that evening, we decided to act respectable by eating and getting ready to go camping the next day. He assembled my telescope and took it outside so we could look at the stars. As I bent over to look into it, he stood behind me rubbing up against me. Just having him do that made me weak in the knees. The telescope episode quickly turned into us making out like two teenagers in my frontyard and with me telling him I wanted him.