His Muse
By Submissive Romantic         submissiveromanticone@gmail.com
Writer has Muse, Writer loses Muse, Muse takes Writer.

edited by michael-leonard

Prologue:

Jim was lying in bed crying softly to himself.

"Why did you have to die? Why did you have to leave me? How am I supposed to
do this without you?"

She had been his rock, his partner, his best friend, and his lover. They had
met during the summer before his senior year in high school. She was only
fourteen at the time, but he knew she was the one; she was the one he was
going to marry and live happily ever after with. They had given their
virginity to each other during her senior year. They had gotten engaged the
night of her high school graduation, and had married during his senior year in
college. Their daughter was born a little over a year later.

It had been hard at first, but they struggled through the rough times and each
had matured, together, as a family.

Chapter One

"Erika, I don't know how much longer I can take this job. I can't stand it.
There's no creativity; it's the same old thing over and over again. Tick this,
double check that, foot these columns of numbers and if I have to do one more
bank reconciliation, or post another general ledger, I'm going to go out of my
mind. I knew I should never have promised my mother that I would become an
accountant. The only reason why she wanted me to be one was because she saw
the guy up the street, a partner in a CPA firm, buy a new car every couple of
years and be able to afford to buy a new house up in the ritzy section of town."

"She just wanted you to make more of yourself than they had done."

"But it's killing me."

"If you weren't an accountant what would you want to be?"

"I don't know; something creative; something I don't have to follow rules to do."

"Jim, I'm nearly done with my degree in English Literature. When I finish,
I'll be able to go to work, you won't have to stay there; you can do what you
really want to do."

"Where's Kristin? She's not asleep already, is she?"

"No. I just got her into bed; she's waiting for her Daddy to come in and tell
her a story."

Jim took off his tie, and headed for his daughter's room.

"Aren't you going to get one of her books?"

"No, I don't need one; I'll just tell her a story."

"I'll get your supper ready."

While Erika was warming his plate of leftover spaghetti, she couldn't help
hearing the story Jim told their daughter. It was an elaborate tale of
Princesses and Princes, evil dragons and ugly witches. The story seemed to go
on and on, and although the characters were familiar, the story was entirely
new to her. As she peered into the room, Erika could see that Kristin was
enthralled with the tale. Although she was fighting hard to combat it, she was
losing the battle against sleep. Amazingly, Jim continued the tale after
Kristin was asleep and only reluctantly stopped when Erika came into the room
and dragged him off the bed and out of the room.

"That was a wonderful story, but I've never heard of it before; what's the
name of it?"

"Of course you haven't heard of it before, I just made it up."

"You mean it's not a book that you've read or a story your mother read to you
as a child?"

"Nope, it's from up here," he said pointing to his head, "from 'Jim's
encyclopedia of nothing,' as one of my high school teachers used to tell me."

"Jim, that's it; that's what you could do. You could become a writer."

"I don't know Erika, we could starve to death before I could complete a book,
much less get someone to publish it.

"You'd have to keep your day job and write at night and on weekends. I could
get a part-time job until Kristin starts school. I know we can do this; I can
feel it in my bones.

"I just wish I paid more attention in all of my English classes. I don't have
a big vocabulary; I don't use fancy words."

"You won't have to worry about that; that's going to be my job. I'll be your
editor and I'll help you with your vocabulary, too. Besides, you don't have to
use fancy words to get people to read your stories; in fact, today it's
probably just the opposite."

"We'll have to get a personal computer and a good word processing program and
a printer."

"Jim, I was going to suggest that anyway, Kristin will be going to school soon
and she's going to be using a computer her entire life. We would be bad
parents if we didn't get her started as soon as possible."

______ ______ ______

It took a while to set up a routine. Jim, being a fairly good typist himself,
was able to create a first draft of each chapter. Sometimes he could see
clearly where the plot line was headed, other times he just let the story form
as he went along. Erika, for her part, would proofread Jim's previous day's
work, correcting his grammar, choice of words, and spelling. Some nights they
would sit together reviewing her corrections. Erika would ask questions
pertaining to the plot of the story and make suggestions about where she
thought the story could be improved. Jim had final approval on the story line
and Erika controlled the final output. A little over six months later, Jim and
Erika completed his first story.

The next and hardest step was to find a publisher willing to take a chance on
an unpublished, fledgling author. Erika sent a copy of the manuscript to all
of the big publishing houses. As the pile of rejection letters began to grow,
she changed her tactics. She found a fledgling publisher, called the company
and asked to speak to the book editor who had the least experience.

She found the woman to be energetic, friendly and, most importantly, eager to
prove herself. Erika assured her that her husband, the author, would be a most
prolific writer and, if given a chance, would prove to be a valuable asset for
the right company. Within a week of receiving their manuscript, Erika received
a phone call from the editor, Gail. Her boss, one of the founders of the
company, loved the book as much as she did and was willing to publish it.

"That's wonderful," Erika exclaimed, "we have only one condition, we want to
maintain our privacy. You and your boss can be the only ones who know who we
are and there can be no pictures or in-person interviews. If you can work with
us under those conditions, I promise you'll never regret it. Jim has already
started on his next book."

That first novel had made it onto the New York Times Best Sellers list,
climbing slowly but steadily up the list finally peaking at number four. It
was a spy novel and spawned a series using the same characters, all of which
made it to number one.

It was Jim who suggested that they form their own holding company. The company
would hold the copyrights on all of his works, he explained, and could provide
very generous fringe benefits, including a retirement plan into which they
could contribute significant amounts of money.

"We'll be the only employees of the company. We'll have to think of a name
that doesn't reflect our involvement in the company; something generic."

After several minutes of intense concentration, Erika shouted out, "I've got
it. We'll call the company 'Lieka Sordic Holdings.'"

Puzzled, Jim, thinking the name came from her Scandinavian roots responded,
"Lieka Sordic Holdings; where did that come from?"

"You know: 'like a sore dick, you just can't beat it'." She practically fell
off the bed laughing at her own joke.

Jim couldn't keep from laughing as well. Her quirky wit was one of the things
he liked most about her. That, along with her natural beauty, her
intelligence, her vivacity and her casual attitude about sex, all wrapped up
in a very pleasing and athletic package.

'How did I ever get so lucky to have her for my wife?'
______ ______ ______

Not wanting to be confined to one genre, Jim had begun writing several other
novels, which were centered on a big city detective. Erika had suggested to Gail 
that they be published under a second pen name. She argued that Jim was putting 
out so many stories that she was afraid he would burn out his loyal fan base.
Reluctantly, the publisher agreed and was pleasantly surprised when Jim had
not one, but two novels on the list at the same time under different names.

One night after a very satisfying love making session, Erika asked, "Jim, why
don't you try your hand at romance novels? The female market is huge and only
a few authors dominate the field."

"What do I know about romance novels?"

Resting on her side next to him, her head nestled in the palm of her hand, she
allowed her other hand to travel down his naked body, over his muscular abs,
until it came to rest over the object of her desire.

"You seem to know quite a lot about romance if you ask me. I'll help you with
the plot lines and writing from a female point of view. We'd have to use a new
author name; a woman writing for women, fulfilling their fantasies."

"I don't know ..."

"Come on, it'll be a new challenge. You can use us as models for your main
characters. Think of all the fun we could have while Kristin is in school."

Soon they were pumping out new novels at a rate of three or four a year. Their
publishing company was thrilled. Every day they received requests for
interviews, calls from producers begging for guest appearances on the late
night talk shows or the morning "news" programs. The answer was always the
same, 'Sorry, the author does not like publicity. He; (or she) is painfully
shy and does not do that sort of thing.'

The more they said no, the more the public clamored for information about the
mysterious authors, and the more books they sold.

Chapter Two

Jim pushed away from his desk, stood, and walked to his office window. Outside
the calm, rolling waves of the Atlantic beaconed him, as it did all those fortunate 
enough to be standing near its shores. He knew, however, that even though the sun 
was shining and the sky was crystal clear, the water temperature at the end of May 
was in the area of fifty-five degrees. At that temperature only the hardiest of 
individuals could stay in the water for more than a couple of minutes. However, the 
shore line proved an almost perfect place to run.

The Wildwoods had been blessed with a wide expanse of nearly flat, powdery-sanded 
beach. The difference between the low and hide tide waterline was over one 
hundred yards. At low tide, as it was at the moment, there was plenty of wet, 
hard packed sand to run on. No matter how many people stood or walked along the 
water's edge, there was more than enough open space to run along the over four 
miles of beach.

Jim couldn't resist its call. Glancing back on the blank screen of his work
computer, he decided that today was not going to be a productive day... just
like the last six months had been. He powered down the computer, walked over
to his closet, pulled out his trusty running sweatshirt and a pair of well-worn 
running shoes. He headed out the door, down the five flights of stairs to the 
ground floor and exited the building, then down the seven stairs from the parking 
lot to the beach and set off south along the water's edge. 

After a quarter mile he came to the end of the public beach. A sign on the
beach stated, "Restricted Property of the United States Coast Guard" marking
the beginning of the Guard's New Jersey Station. He turned and headed north at
a comfortable pace. As he approached the El Coronado Motel he recalled how
they had first come to live there.

______ ______ ______

It was over ten years ago. The writing team of Jim and Erika had established
themselves in the literary world even if almost no one knew their names. After
four novels, three of which had made it to the top of the New York Times Best
Sellers list and had received much critical acclaim; Lieka Sordic Holdings had
signed a new contract with their publisher and had received a very substantial
advance on their next four novels.

It was the beginning of August and they were preparing for their annual
two-week vacation at the Jersey shore. As in the last couple of years, they
would be staying at one of the newer motels in the "Crest", the El Coronado.
At check-in Jim was informed that the motel had been sold to a group of
investors who planned to make significant changes to the building and how it
operated. Intrigued, he made an appointment with the on-site manager for later
that afternoon. At that meeting he was shown the plans for the new building.
The pool would be moved from the back side of the building facing the ocean to
the south side and would have a far larger concrete patio for sunning.

In addition, a new five-story structure would be added onto the back of the
building that would include 10 ocean-front two-bedroom efficiency suites. When
the construction was completed, the motel, from above, would look like an
exclamation point with the dot on the ocean side. Additional plans for future
expansion included an addition to the front of the building as well. Then came
the best news of all as far as Jim was concerned; the entire property was
being converted to condos.

He rushed upstairs to their room, changed into his bathing suit, and ran out
onto the beach where he discovered Erika and Kristin frolicking in the warm
summer surf. In between jumping over breaking waves and racing waves in
towards the shore he told Erika about his meeting and their plans for the
motel.

"I don't know, Jim; you've seen our room, I don't think I could spend a whole
summer in that room, let alone live there."

"I saw the plans for the new suites. They are almost three times the size of
our room. There are two bedrooms and a large great room with a functional
kitchen and a living room. A large counter separates the living room from the
kitchen. There's also a full bathroom. Best of all, both bedrooms and the
living room have sliding glass doors that open onto a wrap-around balcony
facing the ocean."

"I'm still not sure, Jim. Will it be big enough for the three of us? After all
Kristin is growing up, she's going into kindergarten this year."

"I know; that's why I put a $500 deposit on two! We'll have the entire top floor 
of the new addition. We'll talk more about it after we get Kristin to bed."

______ ______ ______

When Jim reached the other end of the beach in North Wildwood, he looked at
his watch; he had been running for nearly twenty-five minutes. He'd have to
pick up the pace a little if he wanted to pick up Kristin when she and the other 
girls were dropped off at the bus stop.

______ ______ ______

"The manager said we couldn't make any changes that would affect the outside
of the building, but on the inside, we could put doors connecting both suites.
Kristin could have her bedroom on one side, along with the main entrance to
the suite, and our kitchen and a guest bedroom. We would have the other side.
We can turn one of the bedrooms into our office; the other would be our
bedroom. We could use the other kitchen as a wet bar and the living room would
be our family room."

"We'll have to look into schools for Kristin. When do you think this will all 
take place?"

"From my conversation with the manager I think we're looking at a year, at
least, before the units are available for occupancy, and another couple of
months before our changes can be completed. We'll wait until the end of the
school year before we move out of our apartment."

______ ______ ______

Before he knew it, he was back in front of the El Coronado; in fact, he had
almost passed it. Glancing at his watch, he figured that he had enough time to
take a quick shower and still be able to get to the pickup location before his
daughter.

______ ______ ______

Long ago, they had decided to send their daughter to an all-girls private high
school. Unfortunately, the closest one was halfway across the state, and the
school would only provide busing as far as Millville, NJ. It was up to the
parents to provide transportation between Millville and their homes. Because
it was Thursday and he would have only Kristin in the car, he chose his 1978
Corvette rather than his wife's Explorer. Five minutes later, he was heading
north on the Garden State Parkway. He got off at exit 20 onto Route 50, and
then turned onto Route 47, a long, mostly straight two-lane country road that
crossed through the Pine Barrens. Since he had plenty of time, he settled in
and cruised at the 50 MPH speed limit for the next eighteen miles. He pulled
into a strip mall and parked next to four other cars at the far end of the lot, 
furthest away from the stores.

He joined the four women who were standing next to an SUV. He knew them all
quit well. Even though Erika used to handle the pickup, he had done it enough
that he, at least, knew the women by sight; and now that he was doing it on a
daily basis, they all had become good friends. Sometimes, almost too good.

Amber Edwards was the vivacious mother of Kristin's best friend, Tiffany.
Amber was fiftyish, a tall, curvy blonde, who liked to dress to kill and was
always touching him when they were together. To a stranger, she would seem to
be coming on to him, but that was just Amber's way. According to Kristin, who
heard it from Tiff, her parents were very happily married. Jim had only met
Alex, her husband, a few times; he estimated that Alex was at least twenty
years older than Amber. He had been a bond trader on Wall Street before he
retired and was worth millions. Amber wasn't going to jeopardize her eventual
payday anytime soon.

As they were talking, the yellow school bus pulled up to the curb and the five
girls that were left on the bus filed out and walked over as a group.

Conversations were concluded and everyone went to their cars, pulled out of
the parking lot and went their separate ways. Jim and Kristin had the longest
ride back home; normally it took about an hour because of work traffic when
they returned to the Wildwoods. Out here in the Pine Barrens traffic was
normally light, so they could make good time; especially through a seven-mile
stretch of Route 47 that went through a wildlife preserve.

The federal government owned the land and had fencing along both sides of the
road to keep the animals from wandering onto it. There were no streets or
houses in this section of road, which was perfectly flat and absolutely
straight; best of all, there was no place for a policeman with a radar gun to
hide. As they approached that area, Jim had a flashback to a time a few years
before, the first year that Kristin had gone to the high school.

______ ______ ______

It was the night of a school play and he and Erika had decided to take the
drive up to the school to see it. They had taken the 'Vette because Kristin
planned to spend the weekend at Tiffany's house. After the play, and a
late-night snack at the local diner, they had headed back home. Jim had been
cruising at about forty-five as they entered what he termed no-man's land.
Suddenly he down shifted to second gear and stomped on the accelerator. The
'Vette seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then shot forward
like a rocket. They were up to eighty-five, just about red-lining it, when he
shifted to third and stomped on it again. The tires chirped again and soon the
speedometer was hitting the 140 mark. Jim glanced over at his wife. Erika was
sitting with her hands gripping her thighs and her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
At 150 Jim let up on the gas, shifted to fourth and allowed the car to ease
back to the speed limit.

When Erika, finally opened her eyes, she was flushed and her unmistakable
scent of arousal permeated the vehicle. With a playful grin, she murmured,
"Payback's gonna be a bitch." She shifted in her seat until she was facing him
and with experienced hands she skillfully undid his belt, pants, and zipper.
Slipping her hand into his underwear, she maneuvered his already erect cock
out of his underwear and started a slow, sensuous hand-job.

"You like this, don't you," she said in her sexiest voice. "Keep your hands on
the wheel and your eyes on the road and don't get us killed."

Each time she sensed that he was about to erupt, she stopped and squeezed its
head, forcing back his release, only to start up again a few moments later.
Again and again she held him off until they were on the Garden State Parkway.

"Now I'm going to go through your gears."

Her hand suddenly began to move him like a stick-shift, violently back to
second, then to third, and finally to fourth, her hand moving faster and
faster until his rapid breathing signaled his immanent release.

She pointed his gushing manhood back towards his body as spurt after spurt of
his essence landed on his chest and stomach.

When he was finally finished, she wiped her hand on his shirt and sat back
into her seat.

"Wow," he said. "If that's payback, we definitely have to come here more often."

"Oh, that's not the payback," she said with a Cheshire cat grin. "Payback
comes tomorrow when you have to do the laundry."

"Honey, take the wheel. I have to straighten up a bit before we get home."

"No, I don't think so; just hope we don't get passed by a bus load of horny
old ladies coming back from Atlantic City," she said and rolled over on her
side facing the window.

That night when they finally got back home, Jim upped the ante by stepping
out of the car still totally exposed, and slowly redressed himself. By the
time they got to their condo, they could barely keep their hands of each
other. Like newlyweds on their honeymoon, they shed their clothes as they made
a mad dash to their bedroom.

______ ______ ______

Jim glanced over at his daughter, sighed, and observed the speed limit the
rest of the way home.

Chapter 3

When they got home, Kristin led the way into the back lobby and into the
elevator. Reluctantly, Jim followed. It had been six months since he had used
the elevator. As he entered, he couldn't help but glance over to the corner,
the place they had found her, still clutching the bag of groceries for that night's 
dinner. Erika had gone to the market for a few things that she needed. She had 
pressed the button for the fifth floor when she suddenly experienced a searing, 
knife-like pain behind her right eye. She was dead before she hit the floor. The 
autopsy revealed that she had suffered a massive aneurysm caused by the rupture 
of an artery in her head. She was found by a couple from the fourth floor who 
were returning from a day at the beach. Jim was working in his office when the 
police rang their doorbell.

He had barely been able to complete the final chapter of the novel he had been
working on and hadn't started anything new since that terrible day. Kristin
had been his rock. She had been more of an adult than he had been, assuming
the role of caretaker for her distraught father as they mourned together. She
made their meals, washed their clothes and was still able to keep her honor
roll status at school. He was so proud of her when she received the letter of
acceptance from the University of Miami, her first choice college, being
accepted into their five-year dual degree program in Marine Geology. He had
slowly regained control of himself and things got back to some semblance of
normal. Lately, he was handling most of their meals, doing the laundry and
making sure that she got to school and back. The only thing he couldn't do was
write. The words, the stories, just wouldn't come.

That night, over a simple meal of rigatoni and meatballs, they discussed her
day at school.

"I can hardly wait for this school year to end. It's like we're just going
through the motions. All of us seniors have already received our acceptances
into college. Even the teachers are beginning to slack off."

"Well, you still have to go; you have to have a certain amount of class time
each year or you won't be able to graduate.

"I know, but it just seems so pointless."

"Just hang in there; you have less than a month to go."

"Actually, just three weeks to graduation."

"Your mother would have been so proud of you," he said as a tear slipped down
his cheek.

She got off her chair, and came around the table and held him tightly.

"I know, Dad, I know."

She was so much like her mother. She looked just like he remembered Erika
looking when she was Kristin's age. So good-looking, so mature, so responsible; 
he was really going to miss her when she went away to school in September.

After dinner, he cleaned up and washed the dishes, while Kristin adjourned to her 
room to complete the rest of her homework that she hadn't done on the ride home.

Jim watched the evening news as usual on the TV in the family room. Later he
walked over to Kristin's side of the condo and knocked on the frame of her
bedroom door. He blew her a kiss and wished her a good night.

He returned to his side, closing the connecting door behind him, poured
himself his usual evening Johnnie Walker Black on the rocks, and entered his
bedroom. This ritual was always the same; he stripped off his cloths, put on
his bathrobe, picked up his drink and went out onto the balcony. There he sat,
sipping his drink while he listened to the gently breaking waves and gazed at
the night sky. When he finally finished his drink and the remaining ice had
melted, he got up and went to bed.

Ever since they first got married, it had been their habit to sleep in the
nude. Erika said it was healthier for the body to sleep at a lower temperature, 
"and besides, why bother getting dressed for bed, when you knew you were 
going to have to take your clothes off again a few minutes later?" So he shut 
the light, tossed his robe over a chair, and crawled into bed pulling the sheet 
half way up his body.

Sometime during the night he began to dream of Erika. The dream felt so real
to him. He was a morning person while she, on the other hand, was a night owl.
It worked out perfectly for them. He would go to bed early, while Erika stayed
up late, working on the latest chapters of his book. Many a night she would
slip into bed and playfully begin their love-making. Sometimes he would wake
up on his own but most of the time she would have to make a conscious effort
to wake him. His protests about needing his sleep because he had to wake up
early in order to take Kristin to school were feeble and without conviction.
Sometimes he would 'get even' early the following morning.

This dream felt like one of those nights. He could feel her pull the sheet off
his body, her gentle touch as she crawled between his legs, the familiar
feeling of his growing erection as she held him, and the unbelievable
sensation of her mouth as she worked it up and down, her tongue caressing the
underside of its head. He didn't know how long it lasted, but finally, he felt
like he was being turned inside out as he came. After a few moments, he felt
her gently return his now flaccid cock back to its original position, give it
a goodbye kiss and a gentle pat. Then the bed moved and the sheet was pulled
back up to his waist and all was still again.

Erika had always said that he could sleep through just about anything and that
the most unsettling thing about how he slept was that he never seemed to move.
He would wake up exactly in the same position as he went to bed the night
before; usually on his back with his hands folded on his stomach.

That was the way he woke the next morning. But something was different; he
could vividly remember his dream and his chest was sticky.

'Oh my god,' he thought, 'I had a wet dream. I haven't had a dream like that
since I was twelve years old.

______ ______ ______

It was still dark outside, the sun just beginning to peek over the surface of
the Atlantic. That was a price he was willing to pay for his daughter to get
the best education possible. Jim jumped into the shower; he didn't have to
worry about Kristin sleeping in, she was a morning person, too. By the time he
got dressed and opened the connecting doorway, Kristin was already in the
kitchen making their breakfast.

"Come on sleepyhead; you'd better eat quickly or your breakfast will get cold."

"You're just like your mother. She was always giving me orders, too." Jim said
with a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, she would have wanted me to take care of you, so that's what I'm doing;
I'm taking her place. Finish up, it's almost time to leave. You can do the
dishes and clean up when you get back."

Jim took the keys to the SUV from the rack by the door. When they got down-
stairs, he unlocked the doors and waited for Kristin to get in before starting
the motor and pulling out of his parking spot. He always took the SUV in the
morning as an accommodation to the tenants in their building. It was a lot
quieter than the Corvette.

The ride to the bus stop was quiet as well. Kristin was reading; while Jim was
rehashing the events of the previous night and the conversation at breakfast.
'Could it be possible, was his little girl taking her added burden of being
his caretaker a little too seriously? No, don't be ridiculous; she wouldn't do
anything like that, she's a good girl. You just had a sexual dream about your
wife. It's been over eight months since she's gone; you just needed a
release.'

The conversation in his head kept repeating itself, until he found himself
making the turn into the shopping center parking lot. They were the first to arrive, 
but within five minutes several others arrived. Tiff and her mother would be the 
last to arrive as always. They made it just as the bus turned the corner.

"Dad, remember to bring this car later; the girls are coming home with us
tonight and spending the Memorial Day weekend. You didn't forget did you?"

"Of course not," he said with a sheepish grin. "I'll be here to pick up the
'We Five' when you get here."

The 'We Five' was not the 60's folk group that had one major hit with "You
Were on My Mind," but rather the five girls who took the bus every day for the
last four years and had become inseparable friends. The group consisted of
Kristin, Tiffany, Jenny, Rose, and Faith. They were all different, with
different looks, mannerisms, style, and attitudes; but they were absolutely
loyal to one another and both Jim and Erika had approved of their friendships.

When he got back home he made sure the entire condo was clean and ready for
company and then sat at his computer. He felt a story coming on. He did a
quick outline of the basic plot and was just fitting in some of the subplots
when he suddenly realized that he had already written this story four years
ago. Frustrated and depressed, he shut down the computer and went for a long
run. When he returned he took a quick shower and cleaned out the SUV, went for
a carwash, and hit the road. He was a half hour early, but he figured it was
always better to be early than late.

Each of the other girls exited the bus with an overnight bag. There was an
absence of books, which seemed to set the mood for the entire three-day
weekend. The ride home was exceptionally loud, full of gossip and laughter.
Jim only shook his head; it was going to be a long weekend.

Of course since he got the car washed, you had to know that it was going to
rain. By the time they returned home and had settled their sleeping
arrangements, the clouds arrived and a steady rain had begun to fall. That
changed the plan for the evening. Originally they had planned for an evening
on the boardwalk, maybe sharing a couple of large pizzas; now that was
cancelled. Instead, it was decided that the six of them would head to Cape May
and have dinner at a Greek restaurant that Jim, Erika, and Kristin had gone to
many times in the past and were well-known to the owner and the staff. It was
a place that allowed BYOB, so Jim packed two; a Chardonnay and a Pinot Gris.

When the girls finally began to assemble, Jim couldn't get over how different
they were. All were attractive, athletically-built young women, but each had a
different look. His Kristin was dressed in low-cut jeans, with a short polo
shirt, that didn't quite reach her waist; her long blond hair was tied back into 
a ponytail. She was the typical girl next door, fresh-faced, with just a hint of 
her budding sexuality. Jenny was a relatively tall Asian-American, with dark 
hair and large brown eyes; she dressed in kakis and a cotton sweater, a very 
collegiate look. Rose, a dark-haired olive-skinned Italian originally from the 
south side of Philadelphia, was the Goth of the group, dressed in all black with 
black combat boots and multiple earrings. If you didn't know her, you'd swear 
she was a trouble maker; in reality, she was the class valedictorian and was headed 
for Harvard in the fall. Faith was the youngest of the group, angelic in appearance, 
with high cheekbones and the bluest eyes Jim had ever seen. She had also been 
blessed with the biggest bust line of the group which she always tried, but was 
never quit able, to hide. And then there was Tiffany.

Tiffany was a girl of contradictions. The tallest of the group, she dressed and 
acted much more mature than her years. If you looked at her from across a
room you would be hard pressed to guess her age. She had a full head of wavy
blond hair, her makeup was always perfect and she oozed sexuality. In a group
she was always the loudest; her laughter was contagious and she gave the
impression of being a dumb blonde. That is until you had a conversation with
her; then her intelligence and worldliness came to the forefront. Jim looked
at her, remembering the day of his wife's wake. Both Tiffany and her mom had
come dressed in form-fitting black dresses and heels. At one point during the
wake, Tiffany had left her mom and had joined the group of friends. She had
looked like a mature woman among a group of teenagers. And yet now she was
giggling and joking with the others; just a typical teenager.

After a ten-minute drive, they arrived at the restaurant. Sal, the owner,
greeted Jim with a loud greeting and a big hug and then escorted them to a
round table in the back of the room. He was going to personally serve them
tonight. Jim placed both bottles of wine on the table. Sal, placed a wine
glass in front of Jim and Tiffany, and then with a wink and a nod towards Jim,
in front of the rest girls. A large bottle of sparkling water was placed on
the table as well.

"I suggest anyone who has never had wine before, if you'd like to try some
tonight make it the Pinot Gris; it's lighter than the Chardonnay." Jim poured
the Pinot for Jenny and Faith, while Tiffany, Rose, and Kristin asked for the
Chardonnay. "Just remember girls, whatever happens in Cape May, stays in Cape
May. Here's to a wonderful weekend."

They all clinked glasses and sipped their wine. After several appetizers, the
group shared two large spinach salads, with walnuts, chickpeas, beets, and
grilled chicken, and a large spinach and feta pizza. The food was delicious
and the girls all appreciated being treated as adults. They weren't rushed, but 
when the wine was gone and no one wanted desert, Jim asked for the check, left a 
generous tip, and they all piled back into their vehicle and returned home.

It had been a long day for Jim, so after making sure the girls had everything
they needed, he wished them a good evening and closed the door, confident that
they all knew enough to stay on their side of the residence. Once again he had
an erotic dream; this time he was making love with his wife. They were on the
beach, in a remote section near the end of the beach close to the restricted
Coast Guard Station. His wife was in the dominant position and had ridden him
hard. When he woke up the next morning his chest was again wet and sticky.

His mind was reeling.

'I've got to do something; but how can I ask my daughter such a question? If
she's not coming in here, she'll think I'm some sort of pervert for even
suggesting such a thing; I'm not really sure I really want to know if she is.
I've never locked the connecting door before, but I guess I'll have to now.'

He cleaned himself up, and since none of the girls were up he decided to go
for a run.

By the time he returned, the sun had come out and it was the beginning of a
beautiful day. When he was at his front door, he decided he'd better knock and
announce himself before he opened it. He heard shrieks and doors slamming
shut; then a laughing Kristin opened the door.

"It's a good thing you knocked; some of the girls were in various stages of
dress. We're pretty used to getting dressed together because of gym class."

After breakfast Jim asked about their plans for the day.

"We figured we'd spend a good part of the day on the beach. Afterwards, we'll
come up, shower, get dressed and, if you don't mind, have you drop us off at
the boardwalk this evening. We'll eat there tonight. We'll call you when we
need a ride home. We won't be too late."

"That sounds like a good plan to me. You don't mind if I spend some time on
the beach this afternoon as well? I promise to give you ladies plenty of space. 
In the meantime, I'll be in my office; I've got some things I have to clean up."

Because their writing team had been pumping out books faster than their
publisher would release them, Jim and Erika had an inventory of unreleased
novels under their three pen names that could be used if Jim ever hit a dry
spell. This was a dry spell of desert proportions. He copied one of them onto
a thumb-drive, packed it in a bubble envelope addressed to their editor, took
it to the post office and off it went. She didn't have to know that it was
nearly two years old.

When he got back to his office, he looked over their inventory and determined
that he could send her two or three books a year for at least four years
before he'd have to start writing again.

'Maybe that's what I should do; just stop trying to write for a couple of years. 
Give myself a break. Let the creative juices build up before I start up again.'

After changing into his bathing suit and getting a beach towel, he walked down
the stairs and onto the beach. The girls had staked out a patch of salty earth
about halfway to the high water mark. The tide was already receding so by
later in the afternoon the walk to the water for them would be twice as long.
Jim chose a spot closer to the water's edge, laid out his towel facing the
sun, took off his shirt, and stretched out onto his back. The sun felt
wonderfully warm.

"Be careful, don't burn," he heard a few minutes later as the girls walked back 
towards their towels after returning from a stroll down the beach. "Your Dad's a 
hunk," one of them whispered to Kristin when she thought they were out of 
hearing range.

Jim just laughed it off. But the dream he had after falling asleep was anything 
but funny.
______ ______ ______

It was about five years ago; he had fallen asleep early that night. Erika stayed up 
to work on the latest chapter of his new romance novel. When she had completed it 
she was hot as a pistol and wasted little time in relieving her pent up sexual energy 
with his still-sleeping body. The next morning was Saturday, so he slept in; when 
he finally awoke, Erika was still in bed next to him, just waking up herself.

"Thank you, Garth," he was the male lead in the book she was editing. "You
were such an animal; you wore me out."

Jim had no clue what she was talking about and it showed by the look of
bewilderment on his face. And that's when she thought she'd have some fun
with him.

"You are amazing," she said with a hearty laugh. "How anybody can fall asleep
so deeply is beyond me. You have no clue what happened last night, do you?"

Sheepishly he shook his head. 

"Well, when I finished the chapter last night, I went in to see if Kristin was
ready for bed. She was in bed, but wasn't sleeping. She asked me to sit on her
bed, and then began to ask me about sex. After I told her as much as I thought
was appropriate for a thirteen year-old to know, I could still see a look of
confusion on her face. I decided that a picture was worth a thousand words, so
I took her by the hand and brought her in here.

"You should have seen her face when she saw your naked body. I started
demonstrating all the things I had told her about. At first, when I held your
flaccid cock in my hand, she was a little reluctant, but after I started to
move my hand up and down your growing erection and she saw how big it was
getting, her eyes got as big as saucers and she took a turn as well. You must
have really gotten turned-on by that, because soon it was bigger than I'd ever
seen it and she could barely get her hand completely around it. And when you
finally erupted, cum arching high in the air and landing on your face and
chest, I thought she'd die from laughter."

Jim just laid there with a look of abject horror on his face.

"You didn't. How could you? She's just a little girl."

"Relax, it never happened," she said laughing. "I'm not some kind of sexual
pervert, I just wanted to get back at you a bit for last night. I tried everything 
short of hitting you with a two-by-four to wake you up. All you did was murmur 
something unintelligible and turn your head away from me. So I had fun without 
you."

She was still laughing as she got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
______ ______ ______

"Dad, Dad, we're going up to get ready. I'll make sure everyone uses one of
the rooms to get dressed so you don't have to worry about catching us out in
the open when you come in. Don't stay out here too much longer, you're looking
a little pinkish; maybe you'd better turn over."

Shortly after she left, Jim got up and made a headlong dash to the water. He
was a good twenty yards into the surf and had just dove in when the shock of
the fifty-five degree water first reached his brain. Just as quickly he stood
and raced back to the shore and his towel.

After drying off he spent about twenty minutes with his back towards the sun.
'There are five girls and only one shower, they'll take forever to get ready;
I'd better get up there.'

When he got back to the room, he found four of the girls sitting in front of
the TV watching a movie.

"Kristin, why don't you girls use my bathroom as well? I'll be relaxing out on
the balcony; just let me know when you're done so I can shower and get ready
to take you guys later."

"That's great, Dad; Tiffany and I will use your shower while Rose and Faith use
mine. Jenny should be out any minute."

Jim spent about an hour on the balcony in his lounge chair nursing a scotch on
the rocks when he heard a knock on the sliding door behind him. Kristin,
wrapped in a bath towel, let him know the bathroom was free.

Looking at the pile of towels in his bathroom, he knew what he was going to be
doing this evening. He only hoped everyone else in the building didn't have
the same idea.

It was close to six o'clock when everyone was finally ready. They all piled
into the elevator and then into the Explorer. The drive to their usual drop-off 
point took about twenty minutes due to the traffic and the numerous traffic 
lights. Before she got out of the car, Kristin leaned over the console and gave 
her father a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'll call you when we're ready to leave. Don't fall asleep," she said with a
giggle, "or we'll have to walk home."

"Then don't wait too late to call me," he countered.

On the way back home, he stopped at the Pink Cadillac Diner and had a bacon
cheeseburger, an order of onion rings, and a chocolate shake. He didn't often
eat like this, not with his daughter around picking up the mantle of his dead
wife, watching over everything he ate; even though he had the metabolism of a
race horse and ran nearly ten miles every day.

When he got home, he checked out the laundry on his floor. He was in luck; no
one was currently using either of the washers or the dryers. He started in his
bathroom, picked up the towels and wash cloths, then went into the other
bathroom and picked up the towels and wash cloths from there. His last stop
was the basket with the beach towels. Since they were large machines he only
needed one for his wash load. With the machine started, he went back to the
condo and watched a little TV.

Because he was used to doing the laundry, he knew almost to the minute how
long it would take. He got there just as the machine stopped. Deciding that
two smaller loads would be faster than one large one he used both dryers,
alternately checking on each until the loads were dry. Just as he was leaving,
a young woman with two young kids came in.

"Oh thank goodness, I've stopped at each floor; these are the only machines
available."

The phone call came at ten minutes to eleven. As promised Jim was still up and
dressed, and fifteen minutes later he arrived at their designated pickup point. 
The girls climbed in and were relatively quiet on the ride back. When they got 
home, Jim said goodnight to everyone and retreated to his side of the condo. 
He began his nightly ritual: undressed, put on his robe, poured himself an 
evening drink, and went out onto the balcony.

He leaned against the railing looking out at the lights of the fishing boats
moving slowly against the darkness of the Atlantic and then glanced northward.
The lights of the boardwalk were still illuminating the night sky. It was
good to be here. He had always enjoyed the Jersey shore, he just wished Erika
was still here to enjoy it with him.

Settling back onto his lounge chair, he took a sip of his drink and watched
the boats through the railing. At that moment he heard the sliding door from
the other side of the concrete partition open and close. When he had originally 
bought the two units he had asked if the partition could be removed.

'No,' they had told him. 'Those are structural support for all of the
balconies and the roof above. That partition runs from the roof right down to
the foundation.'

He didn't know who was outside and was just about to make some noise to let
whoever was there know that he was just on the other side of the wall, when
the girls began to speak.

"I didn't want to say this in front of Kristin, but I think her father is so hot."

"Tiff, he's old enough to... well, to be your father."

"Faith, what difference does that make, he's still hot."

"He's got to be at least twenty years older than you."

"My father is almost 25 years older than my mother. Mom always said the women
in our family are attracted to older men."

"So?"

"So, I'm just saying I wouldn't mind losing my virginity to Jim."

"Eeew, that's gross."

"What do you mean 'gross'? When I make love with a man for the first time, I
don't want it to be with some pimply-faced kid who's probably a virgin and
doesn't have a clue how to satisfy a woman. In fact, maybe this weekend, I
might try to seduce him if I can get him alone for a while."

"Tiff, you wouldn't... would you? That's Kristin's father."

"Yeah, but he's a good looking guy who's been alone for almost eight months.
He's ripe for the picking, and if anyone is going to pick that fruit it's going 
to be me. We'd better get back inside."

Jim couldn't believe what he had just heard. Tiffany, his daughter's best friend, 
had the hots for him. What was he going to do? He couldn't let anything happen 
between them. Sure, she was a beautiful young woman, the key word being young. 
He wasn't ready for anything like this. He would just have to avoid being alone 
with her, or any of them, for the rest of the weekend. Just to be safe, when he 
re-entered the condo, he locked the passage door before retreating back to his 
bedroom.

Jim spent a very restless night. His dreams weren't erotic, but they were sensual. 
In every one of them, Tiffany was chasing him. Each time she cornered him, he 
heard Erika's voice say, 'Not yet; it's not time yet,' and he would wake up. He'd 
fall back to sleep only to have the dream start again, only this time she would be 
wearing less than before. The third time she was naked and so was he. She had 
trapped him in his bedroom and pushed him backwards onto the bed. As she 
climbed between his legs, he closed his eyes and heard Erika's voice loud and 
clear: 'She's not ready yet.' When he opened his eyes he was alone in his bed, 
sunlight shining in. Looking at the clock on his nightstand he was shocked to 
discover it was nearly nine o'clock.
______ ______ ______

The rest of the weekend, and the rest of the school year, were uneventful. He
attended Kristin's graduation. He was as proud as a father could be of her
accomplishments and the woman she had become. There were tears of joy and
tears of sadness as the graduates, especially the 'we five' realized that they
may not see each other ever again. All were going away to different schools.
Tiffany was going to Princeton, Rose to Harvard, Jenny to M.I.T., and Faith to
Wellesley College.

The 'we five' would get together one last time, on the first weekend in August; 
after three days of sun, laughter and nights on the boardwalk, they wished each 
other good luck and farewell and went their separate ways with the promise that 
they would keep in touch.

Jim dreaded the last week in August and the doom it foretold. Soon Kristin would 
be off to Florida, Labor Day week-end would mark the unofficial end of summer at 
the Jersey Shore, and for the first time in his life he would be entirely alone.

Chapter 4:

There was nothing for him to do. Sure, he could go for a run, which he did
almost every morning. He ran the nearly five miles of beach to its end in North 
Wildwood and turned around and ran back to the Coast Guard Station and
then back to the condo. When it was needed, which wasn't very often, he cleaned 
the condo. There was no mail to speak of; his publishing company had all but 
written him off as a burned out author. He had used the last of his inventory of 
unpublished works over a year ago. They had sent him a new contract to sign 
requiring him to write one novel a year for the next three years; it was still on 
his office desk, unsigned.
______ ______ ______

Kristin's returns home were the only bright spot in his life of darkness. It
had been four years since she first went away to school. She had done
exceptionally well. Now she was starting her Master's program and had already
completed some graduate courses. She had also met a young man and they were
already making plans for their future lives together. Jim was both happy for her 
and more deeply depressed than ever; he was losing his little girl.

"Dad, I'm worried about you. It's been nearly five years since Mom died. You
have to find someone to share your life with; you're too young to be alone for
the rest of your life."

"I know; but it's hard to let go. She was everything to me"

"And what about your writing? Have you written anything since Mom is gone?"

"I've started several books since you've been gone, but I just can't seem to finish 
them. I could always turn to your mother when I was stuck. She would be my 
sounding-board, my guide; she'd keep me on the right path. She was my muse."

"Then you need to find someone to fill that void. Maybe you could advertise
for an editor, someone to come here and work with you. You know, I could help
you with that. I'll send out some inquiries on-line, review resumes, and set up 
interviews."

"I don't know ... ."

"I've already got one interview scheduled for next Friday, with a woman named
Ann Edwards. I'm sorry I can't be here, but I have to get back to school.
She's got her BA degree in English from Princeton and she's currently employed
at Simon & Schuster in New York. She'll be here at noon; she'll meet you in
the coffee shop downstairs."

______ ______ ______

Jim was seated in one of the booths; he had an unobstructed view of the front
door. It was, by his watch 11:59, when a tall, good-looking, brunette walked
through the door. She looked around and, seeing him, turned and walked his
way. As she approached, Jim stood and extended his hand. He almost withdrew
his hand when he realized who she was.

"Hello, Mr. Stafford; it's good to see you again. I'm sorry for the deception. It 
was Kristin's idea; she felt you'd never agree to see me if you knew it was me."

"Hello Tiffany; I almost didn't recognize you. You've changed your look; much
more mature and business-like. Dialed back a notch; I like it. How have you
been? How are your parents; are they well?"

"My mother is doing well; she said to give you her best regards. We lost my
Dad about a year ago; I guess Kristin never told you."

"I'm so sorry to hear that; my belated sympathies to both of you."

"Thank you."

"Would you like coffee, or something else to drink? I'm afraid this being the
middle of winter, they have a very limited menu."

"Just coffee, thanks."

Jim got up, grabbed two mugs, and poured a cup for each of them. The locals
knew it was faster than waiting for the owner.

After accepting the coffee and pouring in a little milk, she began to speak.

"Mr. Stafford..."

"Please, call me Jim."

"Jim. I want to thank you for seeing me. I didn't bring a copy of my resume
because truthfully, there's not much on it that you don't already know. I
graduated with honors from Princeton with a major in English Lit. After
graduation, I started work with Simon and Schuster in New York City. I'm a
junior editor, which means I'm one of many who get the first look at
unsolicited manuscripts. I enjoy the work, and I've learned a lot, but the
commute is killing me. Two hours each way by train, if everything goes well,
which almost never happens. I could move to the City, but I don't want to,
that's not me. I grew up on what was once a horse farm. We have ten acres of
rolling hills and white fences."

"Should I call you Tiffany or Ann," he asked?

"Which ever you feel comfortable with; I use Ann at work because it sounds
more professional; it's my middle name."

"I knew you as Tiffany for almost five years, so I'll stick with that. Tiffany, 
do you think you could feel comfortable working here with me? The job would involve 
editing my work, making suggestions and changes to story-lines and when needed, 
research. I'm afraid there may be a lot of down time, because right now I'm in the 
midst of a rather long dry spell. The other thing is that there is not much room for 
advancement."

"That won't be a problem. I'm sure I'll love working with you."

"Well, we still haven't talked about compensation.

"Compensation won't be a problem, either. You see my Dad did very well for
himself when he worked on Wall Street. When he died my Mother was well taken
care of, and he also set up a large trust fund for me, to which I now have access. 
Mom's talking about selling the house and moving out west."

"And what are you going to do then?"

"Mist... I mean Jim; I have a proposal for you. What if, instead of compensation, 
you just gave me room and board? I could stay in the guest room. You won't have 
to pay me any spending money; I have plenty of that. This way I could always be 
available to do anything you needed to be done."

"Tiffany, I'm not sure how appropriate that would be. What would people think?
What would Kristin think? What would your mother think?"

"Kristin's not a problem; she's the one who suggested it. Besides we're
practically sisters anyway, so that would make me almost like your daughter."

She could see that Jim was still on the fence over this.

"I promise to be good. I know you heard us talking on the balcony that night.
I knew you were there and I wanted to tease you a little. I thought Faith was
going to have heart failure when I told her I was going to seduce you that
weekend. It was just a childish prank. But most of what I said was true."

Jim didn't know what to say. He certainly could use the company. Maybe that
was what he needed to start writing again. His defenses were crumbling.
Finally, he gave in.

"Alright, we'll do this on a trial basis. You'll move into the spare bedroom and 
I'll treat you like my own daughter. When I need your help I'll ask for it; either 
to edit what I've written or to just talk out plot lines or character motivations, 
stuff like that. You can have the weekends free. We'll either go out to dinner or 
we'll bring food in, I don't expect you to cook or clean; and at night, you will 
stay on your side and I'll stay on my side of the condo. Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal."

"When do you want to pick up you clothes and whatever else you need from your
house?"

"No need; I have everything I need in the backseat and trunk of my car."

"I guess I never really had much of a choice about this, did I? Wait until I talk 
to Kristin."

After three trips up and down from her car to the condo and back, they had all
of her things in the guest room.

"It's a good thing I cut back on a lot of my clothes and shoes, or we'd still
be at it," she said as she started arranging things in the closet. Soon, she
was all settled in. Jim didn't know what to do; he thought he should leave her
and let her settle in. But that wasn't what he wanted to do. He hadn't
realized just how alone he had been; now he craved her company.

"I'll let you relax and get used to being here."

Jim returned to his side, but he didn't close the door. It was nice having her
there.

Later that night, after they had returned from dinner, Jim wished her a good
night, but this time he closed the door and locked it. He wasn't taking any
chances. Then, before he got ready for bed, he called his daughter.

"You fink; you set me up, didn't you?"

"She's just what you need," Kristen said laughing. "Someone to be there with you, 
interact with you; and maybe someday, who knows what will happen. She's moved 
in?"

"Yes, she's all moved in. We had a nice dinner and, hopefully tomorrow, I'll
be able to give her some work to do."

"That's good, I'm glad to hear that you're so optimistic for a change. Just a
word of caution; when she was a freshman she had a little bit of problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"Dad, I'll tell you, but promise me you won't ever tell her I told you. During
her first semester, during the fraternity pledge week, one of the better houses 
on campus had a mixer. She went there with a couple of girls from one of her 
classes. During the party, she went upstairs in search of a bathroom. 

As she's walking down the hall, some guy opens the door to one of the bedrooms
and pulls her in. Before she knows what's happening, she's on the bed, her blouse 
ripped open, and this guy's on top of her trying to get his pants open. Tiffany 
doesn't look it, but she's pretty strong. She was able to push him off to the side 
and land a well-placed knee into his groin. She got out of the room and down the 
stairs before anyone could stop her. She told one of the brothers what had happened 
and, when he asked her what room she was in, she told him.

"'That's my room, and I know I locked it before the party started.'

He and three of his brothers ran up the stairs and got to the hallway just as
the creep was sneaking out of the room. From what Tiff told me, they beat the
crap out of him before they called the campus police. She ran because she didn't 
want to get involved in a criminal investigation. She found out later that the kid 
wasn't even a student at the school.

"But, the whole thing scared her enough that she decided to take karate lessons. 
She found she was really good at it and soon added Taekwondo lessons as well. 
After four years of study, she holds a black belt in both. So if I were you, I'd be 
extra cautious if you decide to sneak up on her. She could really hurt you, or worse, 
before she realized it was you."

"I'll take all that under advisement."

"On a positive note; just think about it, you not only hired an editor, you also 
hired a bodyguard."

Later that night, after his nightcap, he fell right to sleep. His dreams were vivid, 
but not sexual. They involved a woman, a martial arts expert, who fought for those 
who were too weak to fight for themselves. When he woke the next morning, he 
rushed to his office, turned on the computer, and began to write. The dam had 
broken. The plots and sub-plots rushed into his mind faster than he could type.

Five hours later he had the entire story mapped out. All he needed now was to
flesh-out his characters and paint the appropriate word pictures. He saved his
file and pushed back from his desk. He was back; the creative juices were
flowing again.

Realizing that it was nearly twelve o'clock, he approached the connecting door
and would have opened it had he not remembered that he was no longer alone.
Still dressed in only his bathrobe, he retreated back into his bedroom and got 
dressed. Now he was ready to open the door; he wanted to tell Tiffany about his 
breakthrough, but she wasn't there.

He went back into the office, opened the sliding door, and went to the balcony
rail and scanned the beach. He still didn't see her. Then he looked down. There she 
was, dressed in a Flyers jersey over a sweatshirt and a pair of black stretch-pants. 
It wasn't how she was dressed that fascinated him; it was what she was doing.

It looked like a slow motion ballet. Each movement was precise and smoothly 
flowed into the next. Kicks were mixed in with the arm movements. She went on 
for twenty minutes, mixing full speed movements in with slow motion. When she 
was finished, she stood with her hands on her knees and allowed her breathing to 
return to normal.

Not wishing to be seen, Jim returned to the kitchen, prepared a pot of coffee,
and cut up a couple of bowlfuls of fruit. Ten minutes later Tiffany walked
through the doorway.

"Oh, you're up. I went down to the beach for a while."

"I've been up since seven; I was working in my office. I've got the bones of a
new story! Now comes the hard part, though: bringing it to life. I haven't
been this close in four years. You must be a good omen for me."

The process of fleshing out the story started slowly and took on a life of its own. 
Instead of Jim sitting at his computer by himself working through each phase of the 
story and then having Tiffany edit his work separately, as Erika had done, they sat 
together in his office, bouncing ideas off of each other, each making meaningful 
contributions to the story.

As time passed, Jim became more and more dependent on her presence, her input,
and even their disagreements.

Most people work with the anticipation of the weekend; Jim endured the
weekends with the anticipation of resuming their workweek. Tiffany became his
drug of choice; and he became totally addicted.

For Jim, this became a personal dilemma. He was fighting his feelings for her.
She was basically the same age as his daughter and even though it had been over 
five years since Erika had died, he just couldn't allow himself to fall in love with 
another woman.

It took three months, but together they did it, and in the end they had a manuscript 
that they were both proud of. After a lot of back and forth between Jim and his 
publisher, it was decided that the novel would be published under a new pen name, 
that of a woman. Jim insisted that the woman's name be Anne Tiffany.

The book came out at the beginning of summer and was quickly acclaimed a must
"beach read". It rose steadily on the Best Sellers List, making it to number 3 by 
the end of August. To celebrate, Jim and Tiffany got dressed up and went out to a 
fancy restaurant in one of the hotels in Atlantic City. After a night of dinner and 
dancing, on the way back home, they decided that they didn't want the night to end.

"Why don't we walk the boardwalk, it's still pretty warm for the beginning of
September."

Jim couldn't help feeling that he was the envy of every man they passed with
Tiffany dressed in her little black dress, a shawl over her shoulders, clinging to 
his arm. Because she was still wearing heels, they walked the concrete pathway, which 
had been built for the boardwalk tram. On more than one occasion they heard the 
five most annoying words heard on the boardwalk; 'Watch the Tram Car Please,' 
played by the driver instead of a horn.

It was nearly midnight when they decided that they had had enough and headed 
back towards their car. They had seen and heard a lot of motorcycles running up 
and down the streets but didn't know why until they saw a poster tacked up on a 
utility pole. This was the first day of the three day "Roar to the Shore" motorcycle 
rally. They had parked in a lot several blocks from the boardwalk, and as they 
walked past one of the many bars on the side streets away from the family oriented 
boardwalk, a group of maybe ten bikers was just coming out of one of the bars.

As best that Jim could tell they were mostly females, which was confirmed when
he saw the backs of their jackets "Dykes on Bikes". As they passed the group
someone called out, "Hey Sweet Cheeks". Jim and Tiffany ignored them and kept
on walking. But she called out again,

"Hey Sweet Cheeks; where are you going in such a hurry?"

Tiffany turned and appraised the group. The one with the big mouth was 
apparently the leader of the gang.

"Not you, Honey. I was talking to him. You know, sometimes a girl likes a little 
steak once in a while for a change of pace. Although with you, we could make it 
Surf and Turf."

Jim tried to get Tiffany to ignore them and continue walking, but Tiffany couldn't 
resist a little snide remark of her own.

"That's okay, we're really not into whale blubber," she replied, an obvious
reference to the woman's extra rolls of fat around her middle.

"Listen Bitch, if you know what's good for you you'd better shut the fuck up before 
someone comes over there and shoves her fist into that pretty face of yours."

"Anytime you want to try, be my guest, Lard Butt"

Three women separated themselves from the rest. The leader followed by two 
others slowly walked towards Tiffany. Tiffany shrugged, slipped off her shawl and 
her heels and handed them to Jim saying, "Please don't get involved; just keep 
walking towards the car, I'll be there soon."

Jim took her things and retreated a couple of steps, but had no intension of
leaving her alone.

The leader threw the first punch, a hard roundhouse right, which Tiffany easily 
evaded. She did the same with the second and third punches, and then threw three 
lighting quick upper cuts to the woman's unprotected belly. The leader, gasping for 
air, bent over at the waist, providing an irresistible target. Tiffany's leg, raised 
high over her head, came crashing down heel first, on the side of her head. She pitched 
forward, landing face first on the sidewalk. She wouldn't be getting up anytime 
soon.

Shocked at first to see their leader so easily defeated, the other two charged
at Tiffany. The first tried to grab her, Tiffany grabbed her right arm,dragged it 
across her body and hit the back of the elbow with a sharp blow,resulting in a loud 
crack, there was no doubt that the arm was broken from theway the woman screamed in 
pain; her right arm hung uselessly at her side. As the third attacker got in range, 
Tiffany hit her with three rapid kicks, moving up her body, first her stomach, 
stopping her dead in her tracks; the second to her chest, straightening her up; 
and the third, a devastating kick to her jaw, which knocked her out before she hit 
the sidewalk. All three kicks had been landed in a blink of an eye.

Jim just stood there stunned as Tiffany eyed the rest of the gang; an unspoken
challenge was given. There were no takers. Tiffany turned and walked back to
Jim taking her shoes and shawl back from him. They walked in silence back to
their car. Jim drove, while Tiffany reached into the glove compartment for
some tissues to wipe the blood that was dripping down her leg.

'Damn, I must have cut myself on one of those studs that were on the last
one's vest."

"Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"No, it's just a scratch. I just don't want to get any blood on your car."

By the time they got up to the condo, the tissues were covered with spots of blood. 
Jim ushered her to the living room and onto the leather sofa. He had her sit while 
he went into the bathroom and got a wet washcloth and a first aid kit.

"Jim, it's nothing; I've cut myself worse than this shaving my legs."

"I don't care; we've got to get that cleaned and disinfected. Who knows what
kind of germs were on that vest."

"OK; you're sweet. I'll just sit back and let you take care of it." Tiffany leaned 
back and enjoyed his pampering of her.

Jim knelt at her feet, placed her foot on top of his thigh, and carefully wiped the 
dried blood from around the wound, which was little more than a deep scratch. He 
pulled out a bottle of peroxide from the kit and a cotton ball and swabbed the 
wound. When the peroxide had evaporated he placed a band-aid on the cut. Jim 
was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't feel Tiffany slide her foot from 
the top of his thigh to the inside near his crotch and begin to manipulate his already 
responding manhood.

"Jim, I'm getting a cramp in my thigh; please rub it for me."

Before he realized what he was doing he began to rub her thigh, one hand on
the inside and one on the outside.

"That's almost it, a little higher; just a little higher. Oh yeah that's it; that 
feels so good."

All this time, her foot was working on his hardening erection. Jim's mind was
now on overload as he tried to process all the sensations and emotions he was
feeling as the tips of his fingers brushed up against her naked flesh. It seemed that 
she had forgotten to wear panties this evening. As he looked up into her eyes, he 
saw a young beautiful desirable woman; she saw a man wrestling with his 
conscience, trying to find a reason to deny himself the pleasure of being with a 
beautiful woman, a woman he was falling in love with. When he hesitated and 
pulled his hands away from her, she decided for him by placing her other leg over 
his shoulder and with it drawing his head closer to her essence.

"Kiss it, Jim; make me yours. Please, I can't wait any longer."

Like a moth to a flame, he allowed her to guide him where she wanted him to be; 
once there, he needed no more persuasion. He kissed her, taking in the aroma of 
her arousal; his tongue flicking at her extended clit, until she arched her back and 
her hips tilted forward in an attempt to maximize their contact. Her first climax hit 
her suddenly. She tossed her head back and screamed his name. When she couldn't 
take his continued assault any longer she gently eased him back onto his haunches 
with her foot. His face glistened with her moisture.

"Come, into my bedroom, now; I need you now."

Taking his hand, she practically dragged him into her bedroom. The bed was
already turned down, the sliding glass door to the balcony was open, and the
rhythmic sound of the crashing of waves on the shore provided the soundtrack
as they began to undress each other. He marveled at the smoothness of her skin, 
stretched tightly over her athletic body. Her breasts were small perfect orbs each 
topped with a rock-hard nipple, just begging to be sucked. The rest of her body was 
just as perfect; a flat stomach, long lean legs, and a butt you could hold onto 
forever.

As she unbuttoned his shirt and allowed it to drop to the floor, she ran her hands 
over his chest and abs. He wasn't a body-builder, but he was lean and hard, with no 
visible fat anywhere. Her hands trembled as she worked the button of his slacks, 
almost catching the zipper on the fabric before getting it down. His slacks dropped 
to the floor and, as he tried to step out of them, she gave him a gentle shove and 
he flopped backwards onto the bed. His briefs were the only article of clothes 
remaining, which she practically tore from his body.

Tiffany stood over him appraising his body; although twenty years her senior,
he was very pleasing to the eye. She held his cock loosely in her hand, moving
her hand slowly up and down. There was still plenty of room for her other hand
as well. She leaned over and kissed its head. 'Later,' she thought; 'right now
I want him to make love to me.'

Climbing onto the bed, she lay down next to him and pulled him onto herself.
Their lips crushed together, tongues dueling for supremacy. Her hand slipped
between their bodies and she guided him in between her lips.

He met little resistance as he entered her, marveling at how her moist heat
surrounded and held him like a glove. Slowly at first, then with increasing desire, 
their love-making increased in intensity until the sounds of slapping skin and 
creaking bed-springs seemed to all but drown out the sound of the pounding surf. 
Her arms held him tightly as wave after wave of passion washed over her. Finally, 
five years of pent up sexual desire was released and they each screamed the other's 
name. Afterward, they held each other tightly, as if they were afraid that should 
they let go of the other what they were feeling would somehow slip away into the 
night.

When they had fully recovered, Jim rolled over onto his back, taking her with him.

"Tiffany Edwards, I love you so much. I didn't truly know how much until tonight. 
I'd get up and get down on my knees, but, after that, I'm not sure I could right 
now. Will you marry me?"

"Jim Stafford, I told you five years ago how much I wanted you. I couldn't come 
right out and say 'I love you' then because I was still a child. But I knew then 
that I'd find a way to get you to love me as much as I loved you. So yes, I will 
marry you."

Jim glanced at the clock on her night-stand; it was nearly two in the morning.

Tiffany followed his glance and, knowing what he was thinking, took his face
in her hands and planted a toe-curling kiss on him.

"Don't even think about going to sleep yet. That was so good; I plan on having
a second serving. I'll do all the work this time; you just have to lay back and enjoy. 
I guess my mother was right. It's best to have your first time with an older, more 
experienced man. She should have added a codicil to that statement, however; it's 
best to start before ten o'clock."

She slid back down his body until she was kneeling between his legs. Taking
his now-flaccid cock in her hand, she slowly and skillfully worked him into
her mouth. Before long she had him standing hard and proud, ready for action.
Tiffany climbed back up his body until she was straddling him and eased
herself down, engulfing him completely. She rode him slowly, savoring the
stuffed feeling she was experiencing. She grasped his wrists and held them
down behind his head as she caressed his lips with her extended nipples, while
he tried to capture them. He was helpless to stop her. This was for her
pleasure; his was only a byproduct of hers and he was fine with that.

She rode him hard until she could no longer hold off his climax. With a final moan 
of passion, they both came one last time before collapsing into a coma-like sleep.

The next morning, Jim woke up alone in her bed. He could hear her in the kitchen 
preparing breakfast. He also thought he could hear her talking to someone. At first 
he thought they had company, but when he peeked out from behind her door, he 
could tell that she was alone and that she was talking to herself. The talking 
stopped when she heard him walk into the room.

"Good morning sleepyhead, you ready for breakfast?"

"Good morning to you," he said as he gave her a hug and a kiss. "Who were you
talking to?"

"Oh that, sometimes I talk to myself when I'm trying to solve a problem or
analyze a situation. I find it easier for me to hear both sides of the issue. It's no 
big deal. I was trying to decide if I wanted to get married in a church or on the beach. 
For me the beach won out. How do you feel about that?"

"I'm good with the beach," he answered as he sat down to eat.

Later that evening Jim and Tiffany called his daughter and her best friend. The 
three-way call started as a friendly 'how's everything going' kind of call and then 
Jim told her that he and Tiffany were getting married. After a long moment of 
silence Kristin practically screamed out her congratulations.

"Well, am I going to call you Tiff, or Mom?" she asked laughing.

"You can't call me Mom, I'm younger than you, remember?"

Kristin's laughter increased as she said, "How about 'Evil Step-Mother'?"

"Don't make me come down there and put you over my knee," Tiffany warned,
joining in the laughter.

"Speaking of coming down here, Matt and I have been living together for about
a year now. We were thinking about making it official sometime soon. How would
you feel about a double ceremony?

Then, all three said the same thing at the same time; "We were planning on a
beach wedding."

After the laughter died down, Kristin continued, "We'll need some time to plan
it, get everything booked and invitations out. How about a December wedding on
the beach in Miami?"
______ ______ ______

The wedding was a small affair; less than fifty people in all. Tiffany
insisted on paying for everything. She paid for the airplane tickets for her
mother and her 'friend,' and for the rest of the "we five"; for Rose and her
husband, for Jenny and her boyfriend, and for Faith and her partner. Matt had
a small family, all of whom were Miami locals. A reception was held at the
Palms Hotel; the wedding itself on their beach.

After the wedding Kristin and Matt took their honeymoon on a research cruise
that was part of their on-going doctorate program. Tiffany and Jim left for two 
glorious weeks on the Happy Island of Aruba.

Epilogue:

Now that the honeymoon was over; it was time to get back to work. They fell
right back into their usual writing routine; Jim at his computer, the
beginning of a new novel forming in his mind as Tiff prepared breakfast,
waiting patiently to help if needed. That first night, as he lay in bed
totally exhausted after Tiffany had had her way with him until she could no
longer get him hard again, he felt his eyes slowly closing.

'If she keeps this up she'll kill me for sure.'

"Wow, that was fantastic, you stud you." Then she threw a leg over his, her arm 
over his chest and pulled him into a tight embrace. The last thing he heard as he 
fell asleep was, "good night, pleasant dreams."

His next conscious thought occurred much later in the night. He suddenly found
himself sitting on a concrete slab, his legs daggling over the edge. It was dark out, 
but the moon cast sufficient light for him to realize two things; out in the darkness 
he could see waves breaking towards the shoreline, and he was high above the 
beach. Startled, he began to scramble away from the edge.
That's when he felt the hand grip his shoulder.

"Relax, Honey, there's nothing to fear. This is only a dream; it's all happening in 
your mind."

Turning, he saw that he was sitting next to his deceased wife, Erika.

"Just because it's all in my mind, doesn't make it any less real to me."

"What's the worst that could happen? If you fall, you'll just wake up."

"It just seems so real. What are you doing in my dream, and where are we?"

"The where is easy; we're up on the roof. I just love it up here at night, it's so 
restful. What I'm doing in your dream is a little harder to explain, but I'll do my 
best.

"Although technically this is your dream, I'm controlling everything that happens. 
Here on the other side, we call this a 'Dream-Scape'. Why I'm here is the important 
question. I'm here to clear up some things that are still troubling you.

"First of all, as far as Tiffany is concerned, I couldn't be happier for you
both. She's a lovely person and you both deserve to be truly happy. By the
way, in case she hasn't told you yet, I will. She can see spirits; in fact, all of 
the women on her mother's side of the family could see them. So don't think she's a 
little odd if you catch her from time to time seemingly talking to herself. She's 
probably talking to a ghost, just like she was talking to me that first morning after 
you finally allowed yourself to be happy again.

"After I died, it took a long time for me to understand that I was dead. I thought at 
first that you both were just ignoring me when I tried talking to you. When I finally 
understood that I was dead, I tried to figure out some way to let you both know that 
I was still here. There were times that both you and Kristin walked right through 
me. It was so frustrating. I wish it was like in that movie "Beetlejuice"; 
unfortunately, there is no such thing as a "Manual for the Recently Deceased," and 
I had to figure out everything on my own."

"Why didn't you do this sooner?"

"Like I said, I had to learn about my powers and abilities on my own. I had all the 
time in the world to do it. It wasn't like I was going anywhere. The first thing I 
learned was that I had the ability to exert power over objects. You never seemed to 
notice that I was moving small objects. I didn't want to do it too much because I 
didn't want to frighten you.

"I could see that you were really lonely. I knew that you couldn't go without
sex for too long and I thought if I had sex with you while you were sleeping
that it would take the edge off. The first time, after you had gone to bed, I
pulled back the covers and crawled up between your legs. If I concentrated
hard enough, I could make you feel like I was grasping your cock. Soon I had
you totally aroused and near the point of no return. I could only imagine what
your dream must have been like; I hope it was about me."

"It was."

"Anyway, now I had a real problem. I knew you were going to cum; probably
buckets worth, since it had been such a long time since you had. I didn't want
you to mess yourself so I took you into my mouth. Unfortunately; I forgot that
I really don't have a body so as you began to erupt, everything just shot out of the 
top of my head and onto your chest. I couldn't stop laughing; you were covered 
with it. I thought it would be cute to let you think you just had a wet dream; that is, 
until I realized that instead, you were beginning to think that it was Kristin."

"Do you realize how much angst you caused me? Not only did you do it once, but
you did it several more times, didn't you?"

"Yes, but don't be mad at me; I was only trying to help. I figured when she went 
away to school and I did it again, that you would figure out that it wasn't her."

"But it never happened again. What else was I supposed to think?"

"I know; that was my fault. I went with her when she left for school and I couldn't 
figure out how to get back."

"I wish I could hold you."

"It's your dream; you can do whatever you want."

They held each other, kissed, and held each other some more.

"That's enough; I have to leave now. My work is done here; it's time for me to
move on. Kristin is married and she's doing fine. You've re-married and are
happy once again. And best of all you're writing again. She's good for you;
she's your new muse. Be good to her."

______ ______ ______

When he woke up the next morning, Jim felt alone, which he was. Tiffany had
already gotten up and was preparing breakfast. Jim, wishing to surprise her,
silently crept up behind her, intending to wrap his arms around her, but then
realized that that might not be the healthiest way to start the day and cleared his 
throat before kissing her neck as he caressed her breasts.

"Good morning," he said, "you're up early."

"Good morning to you, sleepyhead," she said with a chuckle.

"What a weird dream I had. I was with Erika, sitting on the roof of the condo; she 
was saying goodbye to me. It all seemed so real. I could feel her in my arms. She 
also told me that you can see ghosts and that you've talked to her. I don't know 
where I get this stuff, but maybe that could be the basis of a new book."

"We'll have to think about that, won't we, that story line may be a little too
weird for your readers. Who would believe something like that?" She said with
a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

THE END

As always, thank you for reading my stories. Remember your comments are
greatly appreciated; they are the only compensation an amateur storyteller
like me receives.

SR

submissiveromanticone@gmail.com