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If It Ain’t One Thing Ch. 04

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{If you are looking for some hot sex, there ain’t any to speak of in this story. It’s just a collection of all of the crap happening in this old man’s life recently, not all of it good. Now if I got my way, it could have been good but life isn’t like that. So, you have been warned.

Plus, this one is a bit sad, I think so anyway, if you are not ready for an old man baring his soul, go read something else.

Today is the 10th of November, I wrote things down as they are happening, it might read a little disjointed since it all began months ago.}


The run up interstate 5 in Oregon is a rather straight shot once we get past the coast to the valley highway. There are sections there on highway 20 where the tail lights you are following are probably your own. My truck handles like a dream, so I was taking 30 MPH turns at 60. I had just 3 1/2 hours to make the 3 hour run to the airport to catch my flight, so I had my big Dodge Ram set on 78 MPH as soon as I hit the interstate.

Cops don’t even notice 78 on the freeway, they do begin to pay attention at anything over 80. But, I never saw a cop the entire trip, and I was getting passed quite a bit so I let the speed slip up to the left lane traffic, in the 85 range most of the time, touched 90 and eased off a few times. I was 45 minutes early when I walked up to the counter at the airport. I would have been earlier except for cross town traffic and stop lights. I learned long ago to not take the 405 freeway to the airport, it’s slower usually than just crossing town.

The plane was right on time, the female Captain stood there as we loaded. After listening to that lady Captain on YouTube bring her plane home following an engine explosion, perfectly calm the entire time, female captains don’t bother me one bit.

I suppose that is sexist to even say, isn’t it? Back when I was a very young man, women mostly had the things they did, men had the things they handled. Women were frail and sort of helpless, we men needed to protect them.

The world has changed a lot since then, and even a stubborn old coot like me has learned that women can handle any stresses men can, sometimes even better.

The hard part for we men is trying to figure the women out.


“Boston, and step on it please.” I wisecracked to the pilot as she greeted us with smiles.

“I think it’s Cincinnati, sir.” She said right back with a grin. We both laughed.

“How far is Boston from Ohio?” I asked, grinning right back.

“We are going to Kentucky.” She picked up on my joking manner instantly. I guess I blinked a couple of times, she just laughed. It took me awhile, turns out that the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky airport is not in Ohio.

OK. I didn’t know that, and I suspect that is a standing joke by the pilot, and the crew because one of the stewardesses started out telling us that we would enjoy our flight to Kentucky which created an instant fuss. There were some laughs as she went through her routine, it was hilarious.

At one point she mentioned that in the event of a water landing, we should take a deep breath and stop screaming, which got laughs from the passengers. Looking out the window, things appear rather brown down there, not much water.

Once in the air, and settled in, I opened my laptop. I normally use my desktop PC when I pretend to write, so dealing with the laptop is awkward.

There was a nice lady sitting next to me, maybe 35-40 or so, considering what I am typically writing I turned a little bit to hide the screen, but she saw it anyway. She looked at me, smiled, but didn’t say anything right away.

I wasn’t online, but when the page comes up it says Literotica right there in the upper left hand corner.

“My husband and I like that website, are you one of the authors?” She asked me after a few minutes. Big smile, she was looking right at me. OK, no reason to be shy, I guess. Then she asked me my user name, I told her. Next thing I knew she had her cell phone out, and was reading?

How people can actually read on one of those tiny cell phone things is beyond me, but clearly she could. Plus they work while in the air going lord knows how fast.

OK, none of you will believe this one either, but I rode on an airplane all the way to Cincinnati with a lady who sat next to me, reading some of my naughty stories. Her name was Elizabeth, “Ellie” for short is what she told me.

At one point she giggled and asked me how much of it was true, I told her probably more than half, at least in the recent ones. We ended up talking off and on most of the trip, so I didn’t get a hell of a lot of writing done. She even seemed to be mildly flirting, but maybe that is just in my old head.

At one point she asked me if I was really 75 years old, I nodded.

“Wow. I would never have guessed.” She said, which made me feel good.

“Good luck in Boston.. Dan!” She told me as we went our separate ways. I nodded. A little bit weird, sitting next to a total stranger on an airplane who is reading güvenilir bahis what you have written about some rather personal things is.. well.. weird.

At one point I had to adjust my laptop to cover my reaction to her, but I think she knew and smirked. Talking about stories about sex with a total stranger on an airplane? Interesting, I told her lots of stuff, we were sort of flirting.

I think so, anyway.

That was just the beginning of what was a strange trip.


I could see a fairly large muddy looking river out the window as we came into Cincinnati, the rest was buildings as far as the eye could see. The airport is in some city called Hebron but there didn’t seem to be any open area in between, streets and buildings just go on and on.

I was already getting uncomfortable, so I could just imagine what Boston would be like.

Once inside the airport, I looked around. The place was clean and neat, high ceilings with large beams, lots of glass. My layover was four hours, so I found a Chick-fil-a and ate. Then to the boarding area, sit and wait. The very first airplane ride I was ever on popped into my head, I wrote a tale about that, called “A flow of souls”. That was about back when I went into the Navy over 50 years ago. Partly true, partly fantasy.

At the next stop, it was unload and reload, I didn’t even get off the plane. Then finally, I looked out the window, there was a river, a harbor, the Ocean? I do have to admit it didn’t look all that bad from way up in the sky.

An ocean?? I was already regretting not bring my fishing pole.

The landing, the airport, the taxi ride, all uneventful. Streets, buildings, people, noise. The driver pulled up in front of the apartment building, I had already seen it from the Google street view. Inside was a row of buttons, I could see some double doors that led to a larger room. I pushed the top button, in a few seconds I heard Debra’s voice.


“You wanted me here, so I am here.” I told her.

“Danny! Oh! Oh my God! You are here. When did you..?” Then she hesitated.

“Just a moment, I will be right down.” I started to tell her to just buzz me in and I would come up, but she had already gone.

It was a few minutes, she came around the corner and opened the doors, gave me a huge hug. That felt good, I had been really missing that part since it now had been nearly a full six weeks since I had seen her. She was wearing a skirt and blouse, mini heels. I noticed her hair was longer and lighter.

We rode up in the elevator, she was touching me like she wasn’t sure I was real.

“You put on some weight.” She mentioned at one point. That part was true, I weighed 186 the last time I checked, probably that Apple pie old lady Baxter made and the fact that I had not been to the gym even once since Debra went to Boston. Six pounds shows up on a man, plus I probably found a couple more somewhere, and Debra being a Doctor of course would not miss that.

Well, that and if I have no one to cook for I tend to get lazy and in a hurry, so there were some pizzas and hamburgers with fries mixed in there. Quite a few bags of low salt potato chips, too, which if Debra knew would get me ragged on.

The apartment was.. I guess old looking would be the word? Heavy on woodwork, and sort of empty, and very open. I would call it a storeroom.

A very large storeroom, like the entire upper floor of a 40 plus unit apartment building.

“Lots of room.” I mentioned.

“Yes, now. You would not have believed what it looked like when I first got here, it was almost completely full.” She was still clinging to me. She led me into the kitchen, which was more of a nook than a kitchen. There was a small counter top stove, no oven, a medium size refrigerator, a small sink and some counter space in what was just an alcove. The place looked.. strange?

“This used to be a storage area for the apartments, Mom had some appliances brought in to make it livable.” Debra told me, reading my mind. Odd, her Mother apparently was easily worth a few million dollars, yet she chose to live in a place like this? It really did appear to be exactly what it was, a large storage room.

But then, people who end up rich don’t waste money on the way up.

The living room area was just a space on one end of what was a very open room, there was a couch and a couple of recliners so we went over there. That was when I realized, I smelled cigarette smoke?

Debra does not smoke. I looked at a center table, there sat a lighter. Her eyes followed mine, she blushed?

“One of the workers, having to go downstairs and outside is too time consuming..” She said, getting up. She picked up the lighter, went over to some desks and dropped in in the top drawer.

I sat there thinking, I was seeing reactions that did not seem normal. If Debra caught me smoking inside the house, she would have a conniption fit, yet someone had been, right here in her apartment and she didn’t react.

She was dressed in a skirt türkçe bahis and blouse I had never seen before. That wasn’t that big of a deal except at home she either had on her nurse’s smock, or she put on slacks. The only time I ever saw her in a dress was when we went out. Even more, she had on short heels, at home she wore comfortable shoes all of the time. I don’t think she even owned a set of heels back home.

“Where is the bathroom?” I asked, I needed to take a leak. She pointed to a door, there were two of them side by side about 10 feet apart.

“That one is the bedroom.” She told me, then pointed to the other door.

“This place is barely functional as an apartment.” I said.

“It will be better when the workers get it finished. I am putting up some walls, adding two bedrooms, a living area, and expanding the kitchen and dining area.” I could see different materials stacked around, obvious signs of someone working.

“The center counter will go right there, it will have drawers for all of the utensils.” She added. It hit me that I would have done the floor first, then the counter after, but oh well.

I nodded, got up to go use the bathroom. It was clear the bathroom was going to need some work, too, it was best described as.. adequate.

And I smelled smoke again, stale tobacco smoke, far stronger than in the main room. In the trash can I found several butts, Camel brand 99’s. I looked in the medicine cabinet, found some matches and another lighter. There was a clothes hamper which I found strange, it had wheels? I had seen no sign of a washing machine, I assumed a building this size probably had a community laundry. In the hamper, there was a pair of men’s socks, a man’s shirt and some blue jeans, and a pair of black boxer shorts. In the small closet were some coveralls, two different sizes, and some changes of clothes.

Yeah, I snooped.

Workers, maybe?


I went back out, there sat Debra, on the couch.

Naked, big smile on her face.

That was all it took. One thing I always loved about Debra, she loved sex and often just went for it. I will always remember that first time, she leaned in for a kiss, our first date. In the process, she shoved her hand down the front of my pants.

Later, we lay there basking like we have done so many times before.

“God, I needed that.” She said, nuzzling my neck.

“What, you couldn’t find anyone here to help you out?” I wisecracked.

She stiffened slightly. I sat up and looked at her.

“I need to tell you about that.” She said.


Debra and I went through a mess once before, when she was in school to finish up her doctorate awhile back, she went nearly four weeks over Christmas not making it back home.

At a party, she met a younger professor, over a few drinks, a contact high from college kids smoking dope, one thing led to another. Being best described as relaxed sexually, she allowed herself to be seduced.

In our world, which some of you might not understand, that could be just an incident. We do things openly, like massages that get naughty, we get waxed at our local salon, things happen there. Being older, it’s no big deal, and Debra is one highly sexed female. But it was always just hands, touch. Naughty happy ending stuff. One way stuff, no actual intimacy involved if that makes sense.

She allowed sex with that much younger professor, just once that evening she said, That would be unlike her but perhaps it was due to him and not her? Then again the next morning.

The mistake she made was not telling me about it, for six long months. That created distrust, suspicion, conflict, some of which I have to admit is still inside of me. That feeling of wondering what she is doing when I am not there arrived and has been there ever since, even though both of us pretend it isn’t.

But, who am I to talk? I am a long ways from being innocent. Plus I had sex with Millie Morgan not very long ago, and had not yet mentioned that. So even though Debra did tell me she would understand, there is no way to avoid feeling that something happened your mate is not a part of.

That was the catalyst that made me realize for certain I wanted to be with Debra, and certainly not Millie, even though she was nice, and fun. That caused me to get on an airplane and fly all the way across the United States to see my wife.

I didn’t tell her I was coming, so a surprise. Or, was I really checking up on her? I think a little of both.

Oddly, I did not feel guilty about being with Millie, it was almost as if it didn’t even happen. Used to Debra, always energetic, Millie lying back and allowing me to fuck her was not satisfying.

Then those divorce papers, signed, left sitting on our kitchen table, unfiled.

So, I sat there, braced for what she had to tell me.


“I have been on a couple of dates. Just dinner dates, his name is William, he works for the real estate agency I am using.” She looked at me for a reaction, I did my best to not güvenilir bahis siteleri do that.

“He is nice, younger than us, I mean, me. He is 54.”

“I understand, it’s been a long time and we are both used to regular…” I started to say. I was about to confess that brief thing with Millie but Debra interrupted me.

“No, honey, it’s not like that. We haven’t done anything, not really, but it was.. is clear Bill wanted to. I had almost decided…he kissed me last time and I.. let him.” She stopped and looked down.

“Any more than that?” I prodded.

“Just some, you know, petting.”

“What kind of.. petting?”

“He touched me.. here.. I let him.” She brought one hand up to her breast.



“I see. Those clothes in the bathroom closet, are those..?”

“What? No! Those are for the work crew, I let them keep them here so they don’t have to ride transit all dirty and dusty to get home. The laundry room is in the basement, it’s just easier. They are both young kids, you will meet them tomorrow. I am lucky to get them, finding anyone to do any work is hard right now. Ben is the one that smokes, Carlos doesn’t.”

“You mean, you haven’t…? It’s been over six weeks?”

“No. I just use my toy.” She giggled.

“But I almost did, if you hadn’t shown up? That is what I wanted to say, I had almost given up. I was supposed to go out with Bill tonight, of course now that you are here I won’t. He asked me to spend the night, I was going to. I am so glad you changed your mind.” She snuggled up closer to me, like she has done so many times, clearly happy.

I didn’t tell her I hadn’t changed my mind, I doubted Boston was the place for me. What was I even doing here? Trying to reclaim my wife? Hoping to talk her into coming home with me, I guess. Then, some guy named Bill now in the picture.

Some guy she had already decided to sleep with.

Knowing Debra, she would be having trouble going without sex for any long periods. What could I say, I am the same way now myself. But sex with just anyone isn’t the same thing as making love with someone you love.


I do know it sure is easy to doze off when you are suddenly in a different time zone, it was now dark outside and it wasn’t supposed to be. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, went in and set my watch to the clock on the kitchen stove, then went back to the couch. Debra had woken up, she got up and we went into the bedroom. She stopped and smiled at me, so I got up and followed.

That room was finished, I noticed that. It was very nice. The bed looked and felt just like the one we have back home. The last thing I remember was her firm body curling up to me, right where she belonged.


Confusion, sounds, something going on. Voices, I looked around, realized I wasn’t home. I tugged on my blue jeans and a shirt.

In the main room, Debra was in a housecoat, talking to two young men. One was obviously Hispanic, the other black.

“Morning, honey. This is Ben, and Jose. They are going to be working today. There is some Coffee in the kitchen.” She told me. I went in, found a cup and got some while she talked to the two guys about some things they had on some blueprints. Near as I could tell, in Boston you needed a permit to hang a picture frame, the discussion was lengthy.

After maybe 30 minutes, she went into the bedroom, came out dressed in slacks and a blouse, looking like Debra was supposed to look.

“Let’s go get something to eat.” She told me with a smile, reaching for my hand.

We went downstairs, just a few blocks away was a restaurant, we had a nice breakfast. I realized there was no point in trying to cook at the apartment, the two men were already making noise working on the place.

I was wanting to bring up the subject of her new boyfriend William, or was it Bill? I had picked up on her first calling him, William, then switching to the obviously more familiar nickname. But for some reason breaching the subject was difficult.

“I called Bill and cancelled the date while you were asleep.” She told me, beating me to it. Debra always seemed to know what I was thinking.

“Oh? How did he take it?” I tried to sound unconcerned.

“Mildly upset, but I have told him about you, of course.”

“I see. Does he know about the .. papers?” I asked. That ugly word, “divorce” just didn’t want to cross my lips.

“Yes. I told him about that. Bill is a nice man, you would like him.” She got a far away look on her face. We have been together so long I knew exactly what she was thinking. If I didn’t move to Boston, which was obviously what she wanted, she was quite ready to move on.

That made me realize, there were things in life that were more important to my Debra than even I was. She had, right up until the moment I had appeared downstairs, been making plans to move on with her life.

And that made my decision for me.

My former wife Dotty, bless her soul, would have lived outside with me under a tarp, same as I would with her. Things, possessions meant nothing to her. I was her life and she was mine.

It hit me that Debra and I did have love for each other, what we didn’t have was that kind of love.

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