Accidental Encounter

"Larry, I've wanted this to happen since you started helping me. Now that it has, I don't think I can give you up."

I stroked the round curve of her hip and then squeezed it gently.

"I don't think you'll ever have to."

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Sandra was smiling at me when I opened my eyes the next morning.

"Feeling any better? I am."

"I'm feeling great about you. I'm not so great about my job."

She smiled.

"I'll make us some french toast for breakfast. Then, we'll talk some more.

We did talk some more that morning, and every morning and evening after that, because Sandra moved in with me the next day. She was still gone during the day, but it was fantastic knowing she'd walk through the door about six and we'd spend the evening together. We didn't have sex every night, but just feeling and hearing her in the bed beside me was about as good as I figured any man deserved.

I hadn't forgotten about what the doctor told me about being released for work. During the day, I racked my brain for what I was going to do once he pronounced me well again. When that day came, the doctor's release plainly stated I could do anything that didn't involve running or jumping. Since both were a requirement of the physical test I'd have to pass to remain an officer, my police career was over.

We had dinner that night, and afterward, sat down on the couch with a cup of coffee. I suppose I was whining like some snot-nosed kid. Sandra stopped me after I'd done that for a few minutes.

"Larry, you wouldn't have listened to me two months ago, so I didn't say anything, but sometimes, things that seem really bad turn out to be for the best. That's what happened to me."

"Did you lose your job too?"

"No. I lost my husband. It was a car accident, and that's why I was so scared that night. I was sure I was going to die like he did."

"I'm sorry. I knew you'd been married, but not why you aren't now."

"It's OK. I still think about him sometimes, but he's gone now."

"How did that turn out for the best?"

"Harold owned his own company -- a small company that sold medical supplies -- and I used to help him so I learned the business. I found out I liked selling things, so I started making sales calls for him. When he died, I inherited the company and decided to keep it. I run it now, but I'm still the salesperson. I get to meet a lot of interesting people and the money's pretty good.

"You should look at working in sales. It's not physically hard and once customers get to know you, you'd do pretty well I think."

Sandra grinned.

"You're a pretty likeable guy when you're not complaining."

"What would I sell."

"Well, who would know how to sell stuff to cops better than another cop? I wouldn't know where to start, but you know everything they need and how to use it."

Most of my experience with actual sales people was when I shopped for a car. Their standard "How can I help you" always really meant "How can I help you spend more money than you'd planned so my commission will be bigger", and I hated dealing with them. I couldn't see myself doing that to people. Sandra had an answer.

"Sales doesn't have to be like that, and that's not how I sell things. I make sales by understanding what my customers need and showing them how what I'm recommending fits that need."

"I don't know. The department specifies everything by acceptable brand and model number, and they're pretty much locked into a few suppliers. It would be about impossible to get them to change that."

She smiled.

"Well, there's another thing you know a lot about. You could sell fishing stuff."

The next day while Sandra was gone, I thought about her suggestions. The cop thing was probably a no-go. I might be able to find a sales job with one of the big suppliers of police gear, but there weren't any in the city. I'd have to relocate and that would mean leaving Sandra. Starting my own was pretty much out of the question. I would be getting partial disability from the city because of my injuries, but I didn't have enough money to stock much inventory. If I convinced a police department to change, they'd want the merchandise before they paid for it. They wouldn't pay up-front so I could order from the manufacturers and then ship it to them.

The fishing thing was a little more possible, but when I thought about it, wasn't such a good idea either. The big box stores have prices that are hard to beat unless you order on-line. Then there was the inventory problem again.

I was staring at the wall of the spare bedroom I use for my den and trying to think of another way to make a living. I had several of my antique fishing lures hanging on a plaque on that wall and they made me think

Most I'd picked up at flea markets for next to nothing, but they were getting harder to find and more expensive when I did find them. The reason, from what I'd read in my fishing magazines, was that collecting old fishing tackle was a hobby more and more people were enjoying. They were driving the price up and taking the equipment off the market.

Maybe there was something there. I wouldn't want to sell my own collection, of course, but if I could find enough old tackle, I could sell it on one of the on-line auction sites. Finding it would be the problem.

That afternoon, I hit two flea markets and came home with four wood fishing lures in pretty good shape, a couple that weren't, and an ancient bamboo fishing rod the shop owner thought was junk. I took pictures of everything and put them on one of the on-line auction sites.

That night, after Sandra gasped out an orgasm that matched the one I'd felt, she snuggled up beside me.

"Mmm...when it happens like that, I'm almost happy I had that car accident. If that hadn't happened, I'd never have met you."

I stroked the soft breast that was pressing into my chest.

"I know what you mean. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Sandra nibbled my ear lobe.

"Feeling better about yourself?"

"Yes, I think so. I did something today to find out."

I told Sandra about what I'd done. She was happy.

"I'm glad you tried something. I was starting to worry about you."

"We'll see if there's any money in it or not. I hope there is."

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"The Old Angler" was formed a month later and is doing pretty well. After finding the prices at flea markets just kept going up, I decided to eliminate them. Sometimes that means garage sales, but I also advertise on-line.

Because I still had a lot of time on my hands, I tried building a web site. It isn't great yet, but it works and it's getting better. On my web site and on a couple of others, I advertise that I buy old fishing tackle. In a city of this size, there are a lot of kids with their hands full of Dad's or Grandpa's fishing stuff they don't want. My on-line ads bring in stuff from other cities and states too. Some of it is junk, but I find enough that with my partial disability, I make about the same income I made as a police officer.

Sandra and I are doing even better. She's sort of turned my life upside-down, but in a good way. When she was helping me do what I couldn't, it was OK. I didn't like being dependent on her, but I couldn't do much about that. When she left me alone for a week, I realized I liked having her there just to have her there. Now, I can't imagine not feeling her snuggle up to my side at night, or watching her make our breakfast wearing nothing but one of my shirts.

On most Saturdays when the weather is good, we take my boat out and do some fishing. Sandra wears a little bikini then, so I miss a lot of fish but I don't mind. Even though I know what's under that bikini, seeing her in that little top and bottom makes me want her. If my boat had a cabin, we probably wouldn't get any fishing done.

We've talked about marriage, but I need to be on better footing financially before I do something like that. Sandra says she makes enough to support us, but I could never let her do that. She wants children and so do I. Once that happens, she'll have to stop making sales calls. I need to be able to pay the bills when she does.

It's strange how life works sometimes. If the guy had just played it cool that rainy night, I'd have never met Sandra. If the guy in that pickup hadn't been in such a hurry, she'd never have stayed with me long enough for me to realize she was more than just someone helping me. I guess what Sandra says is true. Sometimes bad things that happen do turn out for the best.