Date: Fri, 27 Feb 2009 13:02:43 -0800 (PST)
From: Mark Arbour <markarbour2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: 1968 - Chapter 5

1968

by:  Mark Arbour


Before you read this story, there are a few things you should consider:

1. It contains graphic descriptions of sex between men.  There may even be
some sex with women in here.  Fortunately, there is no sex with animals.

2. Be aware that the effects of inflation have been profound.  A good rule
of thumb is to consider that $1 in 1968 is probably similar to $10 in
2008. So just add a zero at the end of any number.

3. This is a sequel to "Chronicles of an Academic Predator."  You don't
have to read CAP before this story, but it will give you a deeper insight
into the characters and their pasts.


CHAPTER FIVE

Musical Recommendation:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNtGmx--fWs
"Georgy Girl" by The Seekers


	January 25, 1968

	Sam had basically moved into the hotel room with me after last
night.  We'd had a great dinner and then fucked all night long.  We were
really compatible in bed.  He liked to be dominant, he liked to fuck, and I
liked to be fucked.  We were having breakfast at a local restaurant with
great pancakes.

	"So you said I'm the first guy you fucked?  I find that hard to
believe.  You're gorgeous."

	He smiled that sexy smile full of fake modesty.  "I've gotten blown
lots of times, reciprocated a lot too" he said with a grin.  "And I've
banged a bunch of chicks."

	"You like women or men better?"

	"I like both, but I think men are more fun, more physical.  I guess
I'm just a horny bastard."

	"You sound like Stefan," I joked.

	"Yeah, he is a kindred spirit.  But I actually have the ability to
separate love and sex, and I don't think he does."  His insight was
impressive.

	"So why me?"  I asked.

	"What do you mean, why you?"

	"You could be with any guy, well, any gay guy on campus.  Why me?
You just sucking up to the boss?"

	He kind of seemed irritated and I felt bad.  "No, I'm not sucking
up.  I'm a good T.A.  My performance will stand on its own."

	"I'm sorry Sam.  I was teasing, but that wasn't fair.  I guess I'm
just feeling insecure in the presence of such beauty."

	"You teasing me again?  For such a smart guy, you can really be a
dumb shit you know that?  I told you how hot you are, how your body is
amazing and how cute you are.  But you know what I really love about you?"
I shook my head.  "Your brain.  You are smart, you're confident, and you're
brave."

	"You are good for my ego," I said, realizing that I was flirting
shamelessly.

	"And you're good for mine."

	We headed to campus where the contractor I called was waiting for
me.  I told him that I wanted wood paneling on the walls and ceiling, and
new wood floors to replace the nasty tile.  He told me that it would take
three weeks to get it done.  I didn't worry about the time too much, so I
just shrugged.

	I was sitting in my office at my university issued desk, wishing my
furniture would get here, when the phone rang.  That was a surprise, since
I'd just moved in.  It was Tony.

	"Dr. Crampton, I got a counter offer on Escorial.  They want
$238,000"

	"Did they leave all the furnishings and stuff in the offer?"

	"No, they pulled that all out."

	"OK, resubmit it at their price with all the stuff in it.  Tell the
other agent that's it."

	An hour later he called back and told me they'd accepted the offer.
We set the closing date for February 6.

	I called Isidore and brought her up to speed on everything that had
happened.  She was really upset about Jeff.  I thought I would be too, but
in reality, I wasn't.  I agreed with everything that he said.  This was his
battle to fight.  I think part of our love had died during this last go
around.  It was up to him to come out of rehab healthy and win me back.
Maybe that was an asshole way to be, but I'd done so much, been through so
much with him, I was emotionally strung out.  I didn't have the moxie to
fight his battle for him anymore.

	She was excited about the house, and anxious to see it.  I was
hoping that she'd decide to move out sooner than this summer, but I wasn't
going to pressure her.  She promised to come back out in February after I
closed to check it out.

	I was getting ready to bail for the day when a reporter came in
from the University paper.  She was a professional young lady that asked
very incisive questions.  She pried into my departure from Northwestern,
which I tried to dance around delicately.  And she asked me about my
intervention in the demonstration.  Reporters always made me nervous,
especially when they brought photographers, which she did.

	Sam magically appeared as soon as she left.  "So what do you have
planned for the next few days?"  I asked.

	"I'm supposed to work," he said.  "I can probably get the weekend
off though."

	"Tell you what," I said.  "Get the time off and I'll hire you to be
my tour guide in the City this weekend."

	"Consider it done, but I don't want your money.  When do you want
to leave?"

	"How about tomorrow morning?"  And that's how we left it.

Musical Recommendation:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2u7q81Krih0
"San Franciscan Nights" by Eric Burdon and the Animals

	January 26, 1968

 	Sam picked me up bright and early.  He had a crappy old car, a 63
Chevy Nova, but I didn't care.  It was funny because Sam hadn't picked up
on the fact that I had lots of money.  He'd heard me talk about funding
Exode with a hundred grand, but maybe that didn't register.  I didn't tell
him about Escorial, and I hadn't tossed money around in front of him.  The
fact that he was willing to spend time with me without knowing that made
him seem more sincere.  We drove up Highway 101 and when we got to the
city, I decided to blow his impression of me as a poor professor out the
window with a bang.

	"So where are we going first?"  he asked.

	"I thought we'd check in first.  You know where the Fairmount Hotel
is?"

	"Yeah, we staying near there?"

	"No, we're staying there."  He rolled his eyes and drove up to the
hotel.  I had to force him to valet park.

	I checked in, getting us a really nice suite.  Sam wasn't paying
attention when I got the room.  He was too busy taking in the ornate lobby.
The bellman came to take our bags, and he argued that he could carry them
himself until I intervened.  We got to the room and his mouth dropped.
After the bellman left he freaked.

	"Man, this place is incredible, but we can't stay here.  It has to
cost a fortune.  I don't want you to blow all your money on me.  I'll like
you just as well if we stay at a dump."  God was he cute.

	I walked up and kissed him.  "It's not a problem.  Don't worry
about money."  I ran my hand down his shirt and across his crotch, where
his dick was already firming up.  "Why don't we break this room in?"

	Sam was an experienced lover, just not an experienced lover with
men.  But he picked it up quickly, and every time we had sex he seemed to
figure out how to blow my mind just that much more.  He was young,
athletic, and an animal.  He reminded me of Jeff when he was 18, only more
aggressive.

	We went out to explore the City.  Sam grew up in St. Louis, but
he'd adopted San Francisco as his new home town.  We wandered all over,
from the Haight to Castro, to Telegraph and Russian Hill, to the wharf and
back to Union Square.  He took me to a fantastic Italian restaurant and
insisted on paying, and then we headed back to the Fairmount for more
athletic sex.

	The next day he took me to see the Palace of Fine Arts and Golden
Gate Park.  Then we just wandered around with no particular purpose.  We
ended up back at Union Square, and I decided to do some shopping.  He
seemed really uncomfortable.

	"Let's go out for a nice dinner tonight," I said.  "My treat."

	"I'm worried that you're spending too much money," he said.

	"It's OK Sam; I have a lot of money to spend."

	"Oh yeah?  So you're rich huh?"

	I smiled at him.  "Well, as a matter of fact, yeah."

	"How rich?"  he asked dubiously.

	"Rich enough to buy my boy toy a nice suit and take him out to a
fancy dinner."  He smiled but still seemed uncomfortable.  "Look Sam, my
parents are wealthy, and I've got my own money too.  My father runs a
construction company."

	"Which one?" he asked.

	"Crampton Construction.  Duh."  I teased.

	"You're one of those Cramptons?"  he asked, incredulous.

	"Yep.  So now, will you let me buy you a suit and take you to
dinner?"

	He grinned.  "I never dated a rich person before.  Sure.  Go for
it."

	Once he figured out I wasn't on the edge of bankruptcy, he was a
lot easier to deal with.  I spent a bunch of money on him, helping him
spruce up his wardrobe.  I pondered for the zillionth time the irony that
every time I met a new guy I ended up taking him shopping.  And that night
I took him to the restaurant at the Fairmount with a beautiful view of the
City.  It was romantic and he flirted with me, making me feel like a girl
at the prom.

	That night we had sex and it was better than ever.  When we were
done I lay on top of him with my head on his chest.  He didn't stroke my
hair like Jeff did, he played with it, twirled it.  He liked to trace my
facial features with his fingers, moving across my brow, down my nose, and
around my cheeks.  I was used to Jeff's cushy chest, but there was no fat
on Sam.  He was hard muscle.  I didn't sink into him, I stayed on top of
him, and while it wasn't as comfortable, he projected strength.  He had a
masculinity that was different from Jeff and Andre, a less secure
masculinity that was spiced up nonetheless by his Italian cockiness.

	The next morning we checked out and he dropped me off at the
airport.  As he drove off I found myself smiling.  I knew I was infatuated
with him, but I was worried that it was worse than that.  I was worried
that I was falling in love with him.

January 30, 1968

	I'd gotten back last night and the kids had been thrilled to see
me.  I told them all about our new house and they wanted to move tomorrow.
Claire asked if she could get a pony, and I told her "probably," getting a
dirty look from Isidore.  I had a blast with them, just rolling around in
the rec room with them doing goofy kid stuff.  Jeff hadn't stopped in to
see them since he'd been back, but Stefan had been around a lot more, as if
trying to make up for it.  I'd gone to bed exhausted and decided to sleep
in.  I was in limbo, and really didn't have a lot to do.

	There was a knock on my door and Stefan came prancing in.  Seeing
him always made me smile.  "Look who's home," he said.  "You managed to
leave Sam?"

	"Barely," I said honestly.  "He's pretty cute, almost as cute as
you."  Stefan hopped in bed with me and kissed me.  "How was your flight
back with Jeff?" I asked.

	"Boring," he said.  "He seems to have a new focus, and a new
purpose.  I think he wants to get his strength back so he can be there for
Isidore and the kids, but mostly for you."

	"Good."

	"You don't sound too enthusiastic.  Don't you love him anymore?"

	"I love the Jeff I knew a year ago.  But I don't think I love the
Jeff we saw in California.  That probably makes me sound like a total
shithead.  But I can't live my life guarding him, constantly worrying
whether or not he's going to be shooting up."

	"This kind of thing can break up even the strongest relationship,
especially if there is someone else in the picture."

	I looked at him carefully.  "You mean Sam?"

	Stefan nodded.  "He is adorable.  He is almost attractive enough to
lure me out to California."

	"What are you going to do?  Are you staying here?  I can't imagine
you not being around."  I know I sounded clingy and whiny, but I meant it.
I'd really grown attached to Stefan.

	"I don't know yet.  I really liked it there, and I have nothing
here for me really.  Ever since Tom and I broke up, I've lived a pretty
solitary lifestyle."

	"Does that still bother you?"  I asked.

	"It bothers me that after all that time, Willie Jackson picked him
over me.  I was more upset over losing Willie.  He knew how to push my
buttons almost as well as you."  He grinned at me and ran his hand down my
chest.  "Tom was nice, but we weren't very compatible sexually, and you
know how important that is to me."  His hand had moved down to my hard dick
and he was gently stroking me.  That stopped our conversation.  Stefan
loved to be fucked, and while I did too, with him I liked being the
penetrator.  He really knew how to move his ass to drive me crazy, and
seeing the pleasure that I was able to give him was erotic.

	Spent, we lay next to each other in bed.  "So move with us to
California.  I got a big fucking house so we'd have lots of room for you."

	"I'll think about it," he said, stalling.  "But you can keep trying
to persuade me if you want."

	I got up and showered and picked up the morning paper, horrified.
It was TET, the Vietnamese New Year Holiday, and normally a truce was in
place, but not this year.  It seems that there was widespread fighting
throughout South Vietnam.  I was worried that something else was coming,
and here it was.  I watched the news all day long.  More fighting, more
body bags.  I went to bed depressed, feeling that this horrible war would
never end.  I understood the frustration of those students in the Oval.
They wanted to hurt the idiots that were hurting their brothers.  That may
end up hurting them.

January 31, 1968

	I woke up early the next day and absorbed the paper.  The news was
worse.  The attacks were more widespread than we were originally told.  The
ancient city of Hue was attacked and seized by Viet Cong forces, and most
embarrassing of all, there was an attack on the US Embassy in Saigon.  This
was the main US power center, symbol of our presence, and it was damn near
seized by a group of Viet Cong guerrillas.  It seemed that the attacks
would be contained and that the communist losses would be severe.  What no
one seemed to get, though, is that all of this bullshit that Johnson and
Westmoreland had been spouting, all of this nonsense that we were winning,
was obviously not true.  A beaten enemy doesn't have the strength to launch
an offensive this big and this broad.  This 'beaten' enemy had at the very
least considerably embarrassed the US and exposed the weakness of South
Vietnam.

	I was frustrated.  Why wasn't this obvious to everyone?  It was as
plain as the nose on Johnson's face.  Why didn't they get it?  Why were
they willing to keep sacrificing American men to no good purpose?  I gazed
at the marble sculpture of Andre, the sculpture that contained his ashes.
A tear rolled down my cheek.  He was such an amazing man, such a great guy.
What might he have achieved in life had he lived?  What had we lost when we
lost him and what were we losing when we lost all those other young men?  I
went to bed at 7PM, depressed and despondent.

Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6C83lwwxJ8
"Respect" by Aretha Franklin


February 1, 1968

	Jeff told me he didn't want to see me, but I decided that since I
had power of attorney, it was my obligation to check up on him.  At least
that was my excuse.  The real reason was that I still loved him, and I
cared deeply for him, regardless of how damaged our relationship was.  So I
headed out into the bitter cold and snow and drove to the hospital.

	I met with the doctors, who told me he was doing quite well.  They
seemed to think that the trip to California had produced a breakthrough of
sorts.  The psychologist told me that it was good that I was here, but that
I should limit my visits to short, periodic encounters.  In other words,
stay away as much as possible.  But I was here, and I wanted to see how he
was doing for myself.

	I walked into his room and he seemed shocked to see me.  "I told
you I didn't want you to come visit me," he said.  That hurt.  In my mind,
he hadn't really meant that, he would be so glad to see me that he'd jump
up and hug me.  His rejection hit my like a strong left hook.

	"I'm sorry," I said with no emotion in my voice at all.  "I just
wanted to peek in and make sure you were doing OK.  It's good to see you."
He just stared at me, an uncomfortable minute of silence, so I turned and
left.  I stopped by the front desk to see if he'd had any other visitors.
Stefan came to see him every other day or so, and Isidore had even stopped
in, but he didn't want to see me.  Another nail in the coffin of our
relationship.

	I went home and told Isidore that I was going back to California.
She sensed that something was wrong, but she was willing to cut me some
slack.  It was harder to say goodbye to the kids.  I got the cashier's
check to buy Escorial, and I booked a flight the next morning.

	That night I sat in my bed, furious at Jeff, working myself into a
tizzy.  I pulled out a joint and lit it, and the pot calmed me down.  So
much better than drinking, I thought.  In the morning, I'd be fine.  No
hangover.  There was a knock at my door; it was Stefan.

	He walked in and sniffed the air and I giggled, re-lit the joint,
and handed it to him.  "So you went to see Jeff today?"  he asked.

	I felt the anger rising in me.  "The fucker wouldn't even talk to
me, other than to basically throw me out.  I guess I just pay the bills."

	"That's not fair," Stefan said, stating the obvious.

	"So are you taking care of his carnal needs?"  I asked, accusingly.

	Stefan looked very uncomfortable.  Nervous and ashamed.  "If you do
not want me to sleep with him, I won't."  I glared at him, but this wasn't
his fault.

	I mellowed a bit.  "No, do what you want.  This isn't your fault.
Think how it makes me feel though.  He wants you to come see him and fuck
around, he lets Isidore come see him, but when I show up, the guy he's
supposed to be in love with, he tells me to fuck off."

	"He's really struggling to turn his life around.  He thinks that if
you're around he'll lean on you and then he'll never get better."

	"That's bullshit," I countered.  "Part of being a couple is relying
on one another, being partners.  You're not supposed to have to run off
alone to heal your wounds."

	"Maybe he has to learn to like himself again before he can love you
again."  What kind of crap was that?

	"Maybe I've learned not to love him anymore."

	Stefan looked at me, concerned.  "You don't mean that."  I said
nothing, but I wasn't so sure.

February 2, 1968

	I flew into San Jose Municipal Airport this time because the flight
times were better.  Fortunately the seat next to me was empty since I was
in a hellaciously bad mood.  The Vietnam War was going from bad to worse.
And now, on the cover of the paper, was a picture of a South Vietnamese
police chief executing a Viet Cong officer in the street.  It portrayed so
clearly the brutality of the war.  The expression on the face of the
soon-to-be executed VC officer was stomach churning.  How could people
tolerate this?  Where was the basic humanity?

	I was depressed when I landed so I did the one thing that usually
pulled me out of a funk.  I bought a new car.  On an impulse I canceled my
rental car and took a cab to the nearest Cadillac dealer and bought a
DeVille Convertible on the spot.  I figured that if I was going to live in
California I was going to need a convertible, even though the weather was
crappy, cold, and rainy.  Cold was a relative term though.  Cold here was
50 degrees.  Cold in Chicago was below zero.

	The Cadillac was big and comfortable.  It was a smaller version of
Isidore's Fleetwood, but the size difference made a huge improvement in
drivability.  I found myself actually smiling as I cruised up the 101,
gunning the huge engine and passing all the slowpokes that wisely stayed in
the right lanes.  I got to Palo Alto and checked into the same motel.  I
called to order room service and found out that Sam was working so I took a
shower and hung out, stark naked, waiting for him.

	He knocked on the door and I opened it, standing behind it and
telling him to come in.  When he got in I shut the door and there I was,
standing there in front of him, naked and hard.  He started laughing and so
did I.  He set my lunch down roughly and grabbed me, kissing me
passionately.  He was working so he only had time to drop his pants, grease
his dick, and fuck me, fast and furious.  It was too fast, but still
satisfying.

	"I didn't know you were coming to town," he said.

	"Surprise!  Glad to see me?"

	He smiled.  "Fuck yeah!  I get off at 7PM.  You gonna be around?"

	"I'll be right here," I said, and sprawled seductively on my
stomach, wiggling my ass at him.

	"If things get slow, I'll have to stop by again."

	I grinned.  "Use your key."

	It was a really exciting and fun day.  I just lay around the room
nude, and every hour or so he'd sneak in and we'd fuck like rabbits.  It
felt like we were being bad and sneaky, almost like those sleazy encounters
I used to have back in my own college days.  By the time he finally got off
work at 7, we were both too tired and drained to have sex.

	"So are you here for good?"  he asked.

	"Not completely, but I bought a car and I close on my house on the
6th."

	"New car?" He looked out the window.  "Cadillac convertible?  A
little conventional, don't you think?  I figured you'd snag a Mercedes Benz
or one of those little MG."

	"Nah, it's a family thing.  We're only supposed to get GM cars.
Lucky you have a Chevy, otherwise I'd never be allowed to marry you."  He
laughed at that.

	"So where are you moving?"  he asked.

	"Wanna do the walk-through with me, and then you can see?"

	He looked at me suspiciously.  "Alright, mystery man."

February 6, 1968

	The alarm went off and I rolled over and slammed it, probably a
little too hard.  I rolled back and cuddled right back into Sam.  My face
was next to his armpit, and it was still damp from the exertions of our
morning fuck.  I inhaled his smell and smiled.  Some guys had nasty body
odor, but not Sam.  Every drop of sweat, no matter where on his body, was
packed with pheromones.  I moved my face up to his chest and kissed his
nipples.  They were so sexy, the maroon color contrasting erotically with
his light olive skin.

	"You keep that up and we'll really be late," he said, smiling down
at me.  "Besides, I'm anxious to see this place you bought.  Personally, I
think you bought Hoover Tower."  I laughed and jumped up, heading for the
shower with him in tow right behind me.  I found that it was almost
impossible for me to be around him without touching him.  I soaped his
body, admiring the contours of his muscles.  He posed like Mr. Universe and
made me laugh, but I loved the bulges, all of them.  He grabbed me
forcefully and spun me around like I was a paper doll.  Damn he was strong.

	He moved up behind me, his strong arms wrapping around me and
squeezing me tight.  Sam was amazing.  He knew just how much pressure to
use. Enough to make me feel trapped and totally dominated, but not enough
to hurt.  I felt his hard cock poking my ass, seeking my willing hole, and
probing slowly but forcefully inside me.  I moaned and leaned back into
him, allowing almost all of my muscles to relax while I relied on his
strength to determine our moves.

	"Oh baby, you drive me crazy.  I see you, and I can't resist you.
You're like kryptonite to me."  His words set me free, with only a minor
tweak of guilt at the way Jeff used the same type of language with a
similar effect when we made love.  I felt like a sponge, totally weak and
submissive as I yielded to his ministrations as he plowed into me.  I
reached my arms over my head and behind me to grab his hair and pull his
face into my neck, and he responded by nuzzling me below my ear, growling
as he did it.  The vibrations sent shivers up my spine.  I merged into him,
and when he panted and told me that he was going to cum, it almost
surprised me to find that I was blowing right with him.  They say that sex
is like a drug.  If this is what Jeff experienced on his heroin binges, no
wonder it was so hard for him to beat it.

	He dressed up in some of the nice clothes I'd bought him in the
city.  I admired the result.  "You're the prettiest boy toy around," I
teased.

	"Hey," he said, grabbing his crotch and turning on his macho
Italian-American accent, "I ain't no boy.  I'm all man."

	"That you are," I said, giggling like a girl. God he turned me into
such an idiot.  We hopped into the Cadillac and drove up into the hills.
"Some nice real estate up here," Sam said.

	"Yep," I responded simply, and he just shook his head.  We pulled
up to the gates which were open today.

	"This place?" he said, amazed.

	"Yep."

	He whistled.  "Fuck, this is one nice spread.  Is that the house up
there on top of the hill?"  I nodded.  We drove up to the portico in front
and he stopped talking.  Tony was there to greet us.  I noticed his eyes
linger on Sam and I smiled.  Even straight guys can appreciate art.

	We strolled through all the rooms, looking for hidden defects, but
there weren't any, just as I suspected.  I was being a little too
detail-oriented, and Tony finally looked at his watch anxiously to remind
me we were due at the escrow office.  Closing only took an hour, and then
Tony took Sam and me to lunch.  I went back to the hotel room to clean out
all of my stuff, while Sam headed home to get ready for work.

	"You coming over afterwards?"  I asked.

	"Am I invited?"  He asked coyly.

	"Always," I said, and handed him a key.  His eyebrows went up,
questioning the meaning of that.  "Bring a change of clothes or two and
plan to spend the night."  He grinned and took off.

	It was my house and I took the biggest room.  I justified that by
observing that it was the only one with a bed in it.  The bed was massive,
an antique thing with a canopy.  I made a mental note to put a mirror up
there.  I unpacked my stuff and did some shopping.  I needed some sheets
and pillows at least.  By the time night approached, I had bonded with my
new house.  I went out and got some dinner, and picked up some groceries.
They looked lost in the massive kitchen, but at least I'd have stuff for
breakfast.

	Around 9PM I heard a car drive up and looked out to see Sam's
crappy Chevy pull up.  He bounced into the house happily.  "Looks like we
have the mansion all to ourselves," he said, and kissed me fervently.

	"Come on stud," I smiled.  "Let's go swimming."  I led him down to
the indoor pool and we stripped off and dove in.  I'd turned up the heater
so the water was like bath water.  It felt so good flowing around my naked
body.  I felt naughty, and it was intensely erotic.  I met Sam in the
shallow end on the steps and sat on his lap facing him, lowering myself on
his massive dick.  I wasn't lubed up like I should have been, so I had to
take it slow, but in the end it was so worth it.  I wrapped my legs and
arms around his torso and let him take over.  He moved off the steps and
carried me around the pool, gently moving in and out of me.  I moaned
loudly in his ear and nibbled on his neck.  He moved over to the edge of
the pool and planted my back against the wall.  Once I was anchored there,
he really started to fuck me.  When I came, I looked down into the clear
pool to see my semen spurt into the water and float there in long strings.
He pulled out of me and shot his load in the same way.

February 13, 1968

	I was sitting at the gate in San Jose Municipal Airport, waiting
for Isidore's flight.  It was late, big surprise, so I killed time by
reading the paper.  It seems that the TET Offensive was grinding on, but it
had been eclipsed by the other hot button topic, civil rights.  On the 8th,
there had been a protest in Orangeburg, South Carolina, by students
protesting a white-only bowling alley, and the cops had shot three
students.  That was followed by disturbances at The University of Wisconsin
in Madison and at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill.  The
campuses had become the laboratories of revolution, embracing socialism and
casting a skeptical glance at the older generation.  I smiled at the new
slogan: "Don't trust anyone over 30."  It's a good thing I look younger.

	I looked out and saw the plane roll up to the terminal.  San Jose
didn't have jet ways, so I watched for Isidore.  She was the third one out
of the plane.  Her movements were so graceful; it was hard not to just
stare at her.  She made it through the gate and her eyes lit up when she
saw me.  She gave me a big hug, the kind she only reserved for her
immediate family, and we stood there and beamed at each other.  "Welcome
home," I said.

	She eyed me wryly.  "Soon," she said.  I chuckled.  Her plane
arrived late in the morning so we conveniently avoided the morning rush.
We flew up 101 to Palo Alto.  "I like your new car," she said.  "What will
happen to the Eldorado?"

	"Maybe I'll give it to my new boy toy," I said, teasing.

	"Yes, I heard all about him.  He certainly captured Stefan's
imagination."

	I looked at her seriously.  "You don't mind do you?"

	She laughed.  "JP, you have always been honest with me about where
your preferences lie.  I want you to be happy, and if this, what is his
name, Sam?"  I nodded.  "If this Sam makes you happy, then I am happy."

	"Thanks Isidore.  I love you dearly you know."

	She grinned playfully.  "I know, and I love you too.  I wonder if
you will still love me if I steal your Sam away."  I giggled.

	"If he likes you better, you go for it."  It was truly glorious to
have an open relationship with such a good friend.  And Sam was so cocky; I
was looking forward to blowing his mind.  He was expecting Isidore to be a
typical jealous wife.

	We got to the gates and she looked at me with raised eyebrows.  "A
bit ostentatious, no?"

	I grimaced.  "It is what it is."  We drove up the winding road and
the house finally came into view.  Isidore caught her breath.

	"My God, JP.  It is a palace!  It could be a Spanish Trianon!  What
have you done?"  She exited the car gracefully and strolled through the
massive front doors and into the tall and imposing foyer.  I heard a noise
from the kitchen and smiled.  Sam came out nervously, dressed in shorts and
a t-shirt.

	"You must be Sam?" Isidore said and turned on the charm.  She took
his hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  "You are adorable.  I'm
wondering if you like women too."  Sam blushed three shades of red, and
with his darker skin it was really pronounced.  I doubled over laughing.
He got his mojo back.

	"Normally I like men, ma'am, but with a woman as beautiful as you I
would gladly make an exception."  Isidore grinned at him and put her arm
around him.

	"It is nice to meet you Sam.  I know that JP and I have what must
appear to be a strange marriage.  I hope you won't let that bother you and
that you will feel welcome here."

	"Thank you ma'am," he said.

	"And if you call me ma'am again, I will show you how dangerous a
mean Frenchwoman can be.  My name is Isidore.  Say it."

	"Isidore," he repeated with a grin.  She patted his cheek as if he
was a little boy.

	"Do you like children Sam?"  she asked.

	"Yeah, sure.  I've got two sisters and I'm used to their little
kids."

	"Good thing," she said.

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