Date: Sun, 1 Dec 2002 05:58:30 -0800 (PST)
From: rimpigfl <rimpigfl@yahoo.com>
Subject: MY DAUGHTER'S EX BOYFRIEND 6

Disclaimer: Usual stuff. This is fiction. Didn't happen to my knowledge.
Some of the parts I hope never does.

This story is dedicated to several people:

My friend Bob in Illinois who's constant love and support over the last few
years has seen me through some very rough times. Thank you, Bob, for always
being there.

My friend Geoff in England who's love and concern saw me through some of
the very rough patches I went through writing this.

My friend Joshua, wherever you are. I promise, Joshua, that I will never
forget.

And last, but NEVER least - to all Gay and Bi-Sexual members of the United
States Marine Corps who continue to serve with bravery and distinction
despite the persecution that they risk.  To me, they are the true Heros.

MY DAUGHTER'S EX BOYFRIEND
Part 6

By RimPig (c) 2002


We drove over to Troy's apartment. It was in a rather run-down neighbor
hood. The building itself was obviously not well cared for. I could tell
that there wasn't a lot of money in their finances. That happens all too
often in divorce where children are involved. The custodial parent ends up
with a greatly reduced income and rarely enough child support. In fact, too
often with no child support at all. I really had a bone to pick with the
members of my sex would could just father children and then not take
responsibility for them. This was not my definition of a "man"!

The apartment was on the building's top floor. We walked up the four
flights of stairs. I could just imagine having to haul enough groceries to
feed Troy up these stairs on a regular basis! I could just eliminate my gym
and workouts. Wouldn't need them! We arrived at the door and Troy and I
looked at each other and smiled.

"Here goes nothing!" he whispered, and then took out his key and unlocked
the door.

"Mom! I'm home! And I've got Mike with me!" he yelled.

I could see that the apartment was so small that yelling wasn't really
necessary. I looked around at the dreary place. It was clean and well cared
for but the furniture was obviously old and worn out and there were no
pictures on the wall and no mementoes anywhere. The apartment was almost
like a hotel room. Very little evidence that anyone actually called it
'home'.

The living room, to my right was tiny. Just a sofa and an upholstered chair
that didn't match, a coffee table that had definitely seen better days and
a small desk with a chair.  The desk was covered with paper and envelops,
probably most of them bills. It was obvious that there was very little
'living' done there.

To my left was a small dining area and through a 'pass-through' in the
wall, I could see a kitchen.  I was facing a hallway with doors off each
side and one straight ahead. There was one suitcase standing next to the
front door where I was standing and, at that moment, Troy's mother - Janet
- came out of the door straight ahead with another one.

Troy grabbed the suitcase out of her hand and set it by the door next to
the other one.

"Mom, this is Mike. Mike, this is my mom." he said as he put down the
suitcase.

I reached out my hand and Janet grasp it. I noticed that her handshake was
firm and she gave me eye contact along with it. But they were brown, not
Troy's blue. I figured that those must have come from Troy's Dad. She had
brown hair and looked to be over 40 even though I knew she wasn't.  But she
also looked as if she'd had a very hard life which added years to her face,
so I couldn't tell her age really. The face was a kind one, but marked by
with lines that I'm sure came from all that she had been through.

"I'm glad to meet you Mrs. Meadows." I said.

"The pleasure's mine." she said. "But you agreed to call me Janet."

"Sorry. Yes, I did." I said. "That is if you'll call me Mike?"

"Of course. I can't tell you, Mike, how much this means to me. I can't
believe you're willing to take this juvenile delinquent into your home for
three weeks!" she laughed.

"Janet, your son is one of the nicest and most mature young men I've met in
a long time." I said.  "It will be a pleasure having him around."

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way. And even AFTER he dated your daughter,
too!" she smiled.

"I've gotten to know him pretty well since then and he and Melissa are on
very friendly terms now. I'm sorry it didn't work out between them, but
those things happen. That's what being young is all about." I said.

"So you and Troy work out together?" she asked.

"Yes, I have a gym built into the basement of my house. I spend a lot of
time down there. It helps me relax and get rid of the stress of running a
business." I told her.

"What kind of a business do you have, Mike?"

"Advertising and Commercial Art. We do a lot of local advertising and we
also do some artwork for book publishers - book jackets, some
illustrations, that sort of thing." I told her.

"Well, no wonder Troy is so interested in you!" she said.

My mind whirled. What was she talking about? Troy and I had never discussed
what I did for a living! I didn't know how to answer that.

"Sure, Mom! I've told Mike all about my artwork and my dreams of being an
artist. That's one of the things I wanted to get while I was here, some of
my portfolio to show him." Troy said, coming to the rescue!

God! I loved him! So bright and so quick!

"Yes, I've really been looking forward to finally getting to see some of
your work, Troy." I said, smiling at him and letting him know how grateful
I was for the rescue.

"You'll forgive my saying this, but you do remind me somewhat of Troy's
father. You don't exactly look like him, but you are big, like he was and
you carry yourself like him. He was a Marine. Were you in the military,
Mike." she asked.

"No. I didn't see military service. I got married and had my daughter when
I was very young. Her mother left us when she was just in first grade so I
had to be father and mother to her." I told her.

"It must have been very difficult for you with a child that young." she
said. "Troy was twelve when I divorced his father. He was more able to take
care of himself."

"I'd almost had to raise her alone since she was born, anyway. It wasn't
too much of a change. I had a housekeeper up until the time that Melissa
went to high school. She's far too self-reliant to need that now." I told
her.

"It sounds like we've both come through some difficult times, Mike." she
said, giving me a look I couldn't quite understand. She seemed to be
looking through me.

"Life can be that way." I said.

"Well, it's getting late, I guess we'd better be getting me to the bus
station soon. Troy, why don't you pack some things you'll need. Take Mike
back with you. You can show him some of the art you have on the walls of
your room." she said. "I'm going to check and see if I've forgotten
anything." and she headed back to her bedroom.

I followed Troy down the hall to the first door on the right. He opened the
door and turned on the light switch on the wall. I walked into what I
thought would be a typical teen-boy room. Filled with dirty laundry and
debris with posters hanging on the walls. Instead, I walked into what could
have been a barracks room ready for inspection. The room was spotless,
everything incredibly tidy and in it's place. The bed made so that you
could probably 'bounce a quarter off it' the way the military wants it. But
it was what I saw on the walls that stunned me!

When Troy said he wanted to be an artist, I had mentally winced. A lot of
teenagers think they want to be artists but have only an average amount of
talent. Not enough to ever make a career of art. Not even in the commercial
field. But staring down at me from over Troy's bed was the most incredible
water-color I have ever seen in my life!

Now, most people, when they think of watercolors, picture scenes of fruit
on a table or maybe a seascape. This was a picture of what were obviously
Marines in combat. It was the picture of a wounded Marine being treated by
a medic in the field with two other Marine's standing guard, rifles at the
ready, during combat. The detail was riveting and the use of color was
staggering.  You could almost smell the battle going on. It was the most
amazing piece of art I'd ever seen in my life! I just stood there staring
at it.

"What do you think?" Troy asked quietly.

"I could tell you that I'm no expert and all that crap, but the truth is, I
am an expert. I run one of the most successful Commercial Art companies in
the city and I have worked in the field since I got out of high school. I
have to tell you the truth, if you really want to hear it." I said turning
to him.

He looked at me with real concern in his eyes. I was afraid of that - he
had no idea whatever how good he was. Well, it was time to change that!

"Ok. Tell me the truth." Troy said quietly.

"Troy, it is one of the finest watercolors I've ever seen in my life. The
style, the technique, the composition are incredible! If I saw this in a
gallery with a price tag of $5,000 on it, I would snap it up in a heartbeat
and know that I had gotten a real bargain!" I said, smiling at him.

He was evidently stunned! His mouth opened and nothing came out of it for a
few moments.

"You...do you...really mean it?!" he asked.

"Troy, I told you I would never lie to you. That I would always tell you
the truth no matter what you wanted to hear. And about something like this
- something that has been my life's work, I would never lie! I especially
would never encourage you this way if I didn't believe that you were
amazingly talented. There is no doubt in my mind that, with the proper
training and representation, you could well be a major contemporary
artist." I said.

He just stood there. I looked at him and his eyes were wide open, like the
proverbial deer staring into headlights. He searched my face, looking for
some sign that I was kidding him, that I hadn't really meant the things
that I'd just said. The he reached out, through his arms around me and
kissed me deeply! With his mother in the next room!

I pushed him back and he looked at me, hurt in his eyes for a moment, like
I was rejecting him. I looked at him and then nodded towards the wall where
his mother's room was. It took him a second but he finally realized what I
was trying to get across to him. He got a sheepish look on his face.

"Sorry!" he whispered.

I grinned at him. I understood. For probably the first time in his life,
someone who's opinion he trusted told him that he was good. The light in
his eyes filled me with such happiness, because I knew that I put it there!

"Now, I want you to get that portfolio of yours together. I want to see
everything! We have some things to talk about - some plans to make. If you
want to, that is." I remembered just in time that I had no business giving
him orders. He was my lover, not my son.

"Sure! Just let me gather them up!" and he started opening drawers and
pulling things out of his closet. Before he was finished, there was a stack
of things about a foot thick laying on his bed.

"Now don't forget, you need to get clothes, too!" I said.

"Oh, yeah! Right!" he said and went back to the closet. He also changed
into a pair of jeans and a nice shirt.

He grabbed a duffel and started stuffing clothes in it. When he had it all
together we walked back out to the living room where his mom was waiting.

"All set?" I asked.

"Yes." she said. "Did you get everything you need, honey?" addressing Troy.

"Yes, Mom. Mike saw the water color I did of Dad and he says it's good! Can
you believe it?!"

"Well, honey, I've always told you that you have talent." she said but
looking at me with questions in her eyes.

"He really does. Troy has the potential to be a great contemporary artist,
Janet. I have never seen talent like his in someone his age before. I
believe, that with the right training, he could have an incredible career
ahead of him." I said.

"Oh! That's wonderful! But isn't that training expensive?" she asked.

"Yes, it can be. But there are scholarships. And there are other ways to
pay for it. I think that it should be looked into as soon as possible. I
like to help do that, if you don't mind. From my business, I do have a lot
of contacts in the art world." I said.

"Oh, Mike, I'd be ever so grateful if you would! I wouldn't know where to
start and I don't really have the time! Speaking of time," she said,
looking at her watch, "we'd better get going or I'm going to miss my bus!".

Troy and I helped carry her bags down to my car and then drove her to the
Greyhound station.  We waited with her while she got her ticket and then
saw her to the bus which was just loading.  She hugged Troy, admonishing
him to do what I told him and mind his manners. She told him she's see him
in 3 weeks. She made him bend down and she kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you again, Mike. For everything." she said.

"The pleasure is all mine." I said truthfully. "Don't worry about a
thing. You just have a good trip." I said.

She got on the bus and we waited until it pulled out. Troy and I got back
in my car and I headed to my favorite restaurant - a little Japanese place
called Mikado. Troy was surprised when I pulled into the parking lot.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

"Well, what do you usually do in a restaurant?" I grinned.

"But it's Japanese. I've never had Japanese food before." he said,
apparently apprehensive.

"This is my favorite restaurant." I told him. "I wanted to share it with
you."

"I've heard that the Japanese eat raw fish! That isn't true, is it?" he
asked.

"Yes, actually, it is. It is called sushi or sashimi. But they have plenty
of cooked foods as well." I said.

"Ok, but are you sure I'm going to like it?" he said, still obviously not
sure about this.

"I'm willing to be that you will. You just let me order for you. I promise
- no raw fish." I laughed.

"Ok, I trust you." he said, smiling but obviously nervous about this
adventure.

One of the things I loved about the Mikado was that in the back of the
restaurant were private rooms where you could eat Japanese style, sitting
on the floor round a low table. It made the experience more authentic. It
also would give Troy and I some privacy. As a frequent patron, I was
greeted most profusely at the door and shown to one of the lovely little
'tea-rooms' as they called them. We took off our shoes and walked up a
couple of little wooden stairs to enter the room which was dominated by a
low, black lacquer table. There were special seats which were simply
cushions with backs on them which supported you. We sat down cross-legged
and Troy was immediately entranced with the room. There were beautiful
Japanese water-colors and inscribed scrolls on the walls.

"Those paintings are beautiful!" he said.

"That's one of the reasons that I wanted to bring you here. The owner has
quite a collection of Japanese art with which he's decorated the
restaurant. I thought you would enjoy seeing them." I told him.

At that moment, a waitress in full kimono and obi entered and bowed to us
and offered hot moist towels on small lacquer plates. Troy was confused and
so I caught his eyes and he watched as I unrolled the towel and wiped my
face and hands with it. He followed suit. I returned the towel to the dish,
as did Troy, and the waitress then took them away.

"What was all that about?" Troy asked.

"The Japanese are a very clean people. The hot towel is offered to guests
to refresh themselves before eating." I explained.

Just then, the waitress returned with a tray on which sat a beautiful tea
service of cobalt blue porcelain trimmed in gold. She placed the two
shallow cups before us and filled them with the green tea from the
teapot. Leaving the service on the table, she again withdrew.

"What is this?" Troy asked, holding the tiny porcelain cup.

"It's green tea." I said. "Very delicate and quite good. Try some, why
don't you."

Troy very carefully brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. He
eyes lit up and he smiled.

"It is good!" he said.

"I thought you might like it." I said, drinking from my own cup.

We sat drinking the tea for a moment when the waitress returned to take the
order. Knowing that almost all young males are dedicated carnivores, I
ordered Steak Teriyaki for Troy and Shrimp Tempura for myself, planning to
offer Troy some of the delicately fried shrimp and vegetables to show him
some more of Japanese cuisine. I also ordered a California Roll for an
appetizer. I have found that this creation of rice, seaweed paper, raw crab
and avocado which is shaped into a roll and then rolled in flying fish eggs
usually is a good introduction to those who have never tried sushi
before. The tastes are delicate and quite delicious. The waitress withdrew
to place our order and Troy and I were left alone again.

I reached over and took his hand in mine. He looked at me and my heart
almost stopped from the look of love in his eyes. I brought his hand to my
mouth and gently kissed it. He grinned and began to blush again. I loved
when he did that. I opened his hand with mine and gently sucked the tips of
each of his fingers for a moment each. He sat watching me do it for a
moment and then closed his eyes and moaned softly. When I finished, I took
his hand back in mine and lowered our two joined hands to the table. With
this he opened his eyes again. They were shining.

"You know this is like a dream for me, don't you." he said breathlessly.

"I hope not a nightmare!" I joked.

"No! The most beautiful dream I've ever had!" he swore.

"If it is a dream, it is the most wonderful one I've ever had. I hope I
never wake up!" I told him.

"Thank you." he said softly.

"For what?" I asked.

"For loving me. For being the man you are. For loving my painting. For
brining me here." he said.

"You are very easy to love. As for your painting, I am so happy you chose
to share it with me. As for bringing you here, I want to share all the
things I love with you because I love you more than anything else. The man
I am is partly what life has made me. However, loving you and knowing that
you love me has changed that. Not completely, but some. It's been a very
long time since I've been this happy. It takes some getting used to." I
told him.

"For me, too." he said quietly.

"I want to ask you something. When you told your mom that you'd showed me
the painting, you said it was a painting of your Dad. Which of the soldiers
was your Dad in the painting?" I asked.

"Which one do you think?" he asked.

At 17 he was already a typical artist! Reluctant to express his vision of
his art until he'd heard what you'd seen in it.

"If I had to guess, I would say the wounded soldier being treated. Am I
right?" I asked.

"Yes. I painted it after the divorce. It's how I saw my Dad, wounded. I
hoped that his comrades in arms would find a way to treat his wounds and
make him whole again. I couldn't do it. My mom couldn't do it. I guess the
painting represents my prayers for him." he said.

"That is incredibly beautiful Troy. You loved him very much, didn't you?" I
asked.

"Yes. At one time I did. And then I hated him for the monster that he
became. Then I just felt sorry for him and hurt for all that I had lost."
he said, the sadness filling his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories tonight." I said.

"No. It's all right. It doesn't hurt so much as long as you're here. You
make me so incredibly happy, I can't be too sad around you. The fact that
you actually love me and want me is still something I'm getting used to but
it feels so good, it blocks out all the old hurt." he explained.

"I want to take all that hurt away, but I know I can't. I can, however, do
everything in my power to make you happy and hope that there's so much
happiness that it makes the hurt harder to remember." I told him.

"Well, you're certainly succeeding!" he said and gave me that 'killer'
smile which sends warmth through my whole body when he does it!

Just then, the waitress came back with the order of California Roll along
with salads with ginger dressing and small bowls of miso soup. Troy tried
to pull his hand from mine to hide what we were doing but I held firm to it
and smiled at him. He relaxed. The waitress finished serving and went to
withdraw.

"Domo Arigato." I said to her.

"Doi tash mashti." she replied.

"What did you say to her?" Troy asked after she withdrew and again closed
the door to the small room.

"I said 'Thank you'."

"You speak Japanese?" his eyes growing wider.

"Only just a little. Enough to be polite." I said. "Did it freak you out
too bad that she saw us holding hands?"

"At first. I was afraid for you. I know how important it is for us to keep
what we have between us secret." he said, looking down.

"Troy. Look at me." I said.

His head came back up and he looked into my eyes.

"Did you think you were the only one who wants to shout about our love from
the rooftops?" I asked.

He merely smiled.

"Yes, I guess I kind of did." he smiled.

"Well, you were wrong. I hate the fact that we have to hide how we feel
about each other as much as you do. I am not ashamed of what we feel for
each other. And I'm certainly not ashamed of you!" I told him.

He surprised me by pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing it. It was at
that moment that I realized that I was capable of blushing, too! I could
feel the heat of my face as I felt the softness of his lips against the
back of my hand. He grinned at this and I suddenly realized that evidently
he liked making me blush as much as I liked seeing him do it.

He let go of my hand and looked down at the food. Then he looked at the
paper sleeve holding the wooden chopsticks laying on a cloth napkin. He
picked up the chopsticks and looked at me questioningly. I picked up mine
and drew them out of the paper sheath and then pulled them apart, splitting
the top of the wood. He followed my example but then looked at me, holding
a chopstick in each hand.

"So how do you eat with these?" he asked.

"I can get the waitress to bring you a fork, if you want." I said.

"No. I want to learn how to do this. You like eating here and I want to
learn how to do it." he said.

"Ok, let me show you." I said.

I reached over and showed him how to place the chopsticks in his hand and
then I showed him with my own how I could pick up a piece of the sushi roll
with them. Strangely enough, I noticed for the first time that we were both
left handed.

"So you're a southpaw, too, huh?" I grinned.

"Southpaw?" he asked.

"Yes, that's what people call 'left-handed'." I explained.

"Oh, yeah! My Dad was, too! He went to school with me the first day and
told the teacher that she was not to try and change that in me or he'd come
back and treat her in a military manner!" he grinned at the memory.

"A military manner?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah! Folded in thirds!" he laughed.

I laughed with him. I was glad that I could trigger a good memory of his
Dad in him.

"So you want to try some of the California Roll?" I asked.

"It's raw fish, isn't it." he said, looking suspiciously at it.

"Not a whole lot. Just some raw crab. But I promise, it doesn't taste at
all 'fishy'" I told him.

"Well...ok, but I don't think I can pick it up with these." he said,
motioning with the chopsticks.

"That's ok, I'll help." I said, taking my chopsticks, picking up a slice of
the roll and bringing it to his mouth, feeding it to him.

He grinned as he opened his mouth and took the slice of roll. I watched as
he slowly chewed and tasted it. His eyes lit up and a grin spread across
his face.

"Hey! That's good!" he exclaimed.

"See! I told you!" I said. "Want some more?"

"You gonna feed me again?" he grinned.

"Yes. I love 'feeding' you!" I said, grinning, catching his meaning.

"Well, this is good, but you taste better." he said and then blushed at his
own forwardness.

I laughed and fed him another slice of the roll. He smiled again as he
tasted the delicate flavors.  Then he looked down at the soup.

"So, is this fish, too?" he asked.

"Actually, yes it is. It's a fish stock with pieces of tofu and green
onions in it. Try it, it's very good." I said.

"But what am I supposed to eat it with?" he asked.

I pointed to the ceramic spoon that sat on the table.

"That looks like a spoon rest." he said.

"Trust me. It's a Japanese spoon." I laughed.

"Ok, if you say so." he said, taking a spoonful of the soup.

"Mmmm! That's really good!" he said.

"Told you." I said.

"Ok, ok. I trust you." he laughed.

We finished up the appetizers and salad, though Troy had some trouble
getting the hang of the chopsticks and the salad for a few minutes but he
quickly adjusted and by the time the main course came, he was flashing
those pieces of wood almost as if he'd been born to them. I was amazed at
his dexterity. It had taken me a number of times to get proficient with my
myself.

We finished dinner, sharing each other's food by feeding each other with
the chopsticks. Our eyes met as we did so and we smiled at each other a
great deal. Again, I was glad we had complete privacy because I was sure
that no one could watch us for even a couple of minutes without realizing
that they were looking at two people who were deeply in love with each
other.

By the time we left the restaurant, it was late and so we went home. When
we got there, I helped Troy take his things into the house. Melissa was
sitting in the living room watching TV but clicked off the set when we came
in.
                                   
"Hi, honey. How are you doing?" I asked.

"Well, I'm doing ok. But I think there's a problem." she said.

Turning to Troy, I said to him, "Why don't you take your stuff into the
room and unpack. I need to talk to Melissa."

"No, Daddy. I think Troy needs to be here. It's about him." she said.

Troy and I set his stuff down. Troy sat in the chair and I perched on the
arm of it, putting my arm around his shoulders.

"What's wrong, Melissa." I asked.

"I talked to Brian tonight and mentioned that Troy was going to be living
here for a few weeks.  He went ballistic! He started screaming at me
calling me all kinds of horrible names! I was so shocked! I didn't know
what to do! I finally told him I never wanted to see him again and slammed
the phone down on him." she said and I could see tears flowing down her
cheeks.

"Oh, God! Melissa! I'm so sorry!" Troy said before I could say anything.

I got up and went over and sat on the couch next to her, taking her in my
arms and putting her head on my shoulder. I noticed that Troy sat looking
very miserable.

"Baby, I don't know what to say. I must say that I'm shocked. I thought
that Brian was a nice young man! You did absolutely the right thing. And
I'd better not catch that asshole or I'll put my fist through his face!" I
said, my anger at someone hurting my daughter getting the better of me.

"Oh, Daddy. Please don't. I don't want you getting in any trouble over
this!" she said.

I held her in my arms and rocked her for a few minutes, somewhat like I'd
done when she was little. I looked over at Troy and I could see that he was
really miserable. I didn't know what to do to help him.

"I think you should just take me home." Troy said quietly.

"Absolutely not!" "NO!" Melissa and I shouted together.

"This isn't your fault!" Melissa told him. "This is Brian, not you, Troy!"

"Exactly!" I said. "You didn't do anything wrong, Troy!"

"No! This can't go on. I'll just screw up your life!" Troy said, looking at
me as tears coursed down his face.

"Troy, don't do this to yourself! Don't do it to me! You will NOT screw up
my life." I told him.

Melissa at this point got up and went over to Troy and I went with her. We
both put our arms around him. He leaned his head against me.

"Troy, I'm don't blame you in any way. I really don't. This is not your
fault. Please don't go.  Don't do this to my Dad. He really needs you."
Melissa said to him.

"I'm so sorry! I should have known something like this was going to
happen." Troy said, not listening to either one of us.

"Look at me, Troy." I said.

He looked up into my eyes.

"You had no way of knowing that this would happen. This is not your
fault. I still love you and that is not going to change. Melissa is the one
who was hurt by this and she doesn't blame you either!" I said.

"No! I don't Troy! Dad is right. This is not your fault. Please don't do
this to yourself! It hurts me to see you like this!" Melissa.

That's my daughter. In the midst of her own pain she was reaching out to
someone else who was hurting, too. I was so proud of her.

"But you ought to hate me! I used you to get to your Dad and now I've
broken up with your boyfriend!" Troy said.

"I understand about what happened between us, Troy. I told you that I don't
blame you for that.  And as to what happened with Brian, I ought to be very
grateful to you for that!" she said.

"Why? What do you mean?" Troy looked at her, shocked.

"If that's the way that Brian is, I don't ever want to have anything to do
with him! I'm glad I found out what an asshole he is before I got further
involved with him! I'm hurt because I thought he cared about me. But he
called me a slut! That's not someone who cares about me!" she said.

"Oh, God!" Troy said. "I'm so sorry, Melissa! You don't deserve that!"

I sat there seething with anger. I wanted to beat that fucking punk Brian
to a pulp! I noticed Melissa looking at me.

"Daddy. Don't do whatever it is you're thinking about doing! It won't help
anything and you could get in a lot of trouble. I can handle this
myself. Please, this isn't worth anything happening to you over." Melissa
said.

"That little punk needs his face rearranged!" I hissed through my teeth.

"Daddy! Stop that! You can't do that. I won't let you. I think you need to
take Troy downstairs and work out. That will help you get over this. I'm
fine. I really am. Please, Troy, take Daddy downstairs. Take care of him
for me, please?" Melissa begged Troy.

Troy turned to me.

"Melissa's right, Mike. Please, let's go downstairs and work this out, ok?"
he said softly to me.

I looked from Melissa to Troy. They both were obviously worried about me,
just what I didn't want! I didn't want to add any more problems to either
of them. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.

"Ok, I guess that is a good idea. Are you sure, Melissa? Can you handle
this alone, baby?" I asked.

"I've already handled it, Daddy. I can't believe that fucking Brian had so
little trust in me! But, that's ok. It's his loss!" she grinned at me.

"That's my girl!" I said and hugged her. "Ok, let's pump some iron!"

Troy leaned over and kissed me. We got up and headed downstair, my arm
around his shoulders.

The End of Part 6 of MY DAUGHTER'S EX BOYFRIEND

I hope you enjoyed the story so far. If you did, write me at
rimpigfl@yahoo.com. I love to hear from my readers. Also, if you'd like a
listing of all my stories on the Nifty Archive, I'll be glad to send you
one if you request it.

RimPig