Acting 101 Ch. 10-12: Denouement

"I can't imagine why," I mused.

"And Scott?" Meredith added. "I still have a toothbrush for you in my bathroom."

I drove back toward my dorm as quickly as I could manage in rush hour traffic. At a traffic light, I flipped through my phone's photos for the best picture of Meredith that I had. I had some stunners--it was hard to take a bad picture of her. But I suddenly had a better idea. At the next light I bookmarked a web page.

I had to tell someone. Someone who mattered to me, but who had no connection to Meredith. My first instinct had been right. I called my father.

"Scott? How are you?" Dad answered the phone. I don't call my parents that often, and it is almost always Mom's phone that I call. "You just left yesterday. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm fine," I reassured him. "But I need to talk to someone. My, uh, situation has evolved since I told you about it."

"You have been back a day, and it has evolved?" my father asked. "I'm sorry, boy. But I told you..."

"No, Dad," I interrupted. "I'm good. This isn't a sobbing on your shoulder call, nor anything like it." I pulled off the road into a CVS parking lot so I could concentrate. "Are you driving?" I asked him.

"No, I'm still at the office, why?"

I flipped through my phone to the one picture from Steff's bikini shoot that she had let me keep on my phone. It was a fairly demure (for those photos), full-body shot where the lighting was the least sucky. "I'm going to text you a picture of Steff, the one I screwed up and told you a little about," I said, hitting send to my father. "She came back from Miami Beach with a new boyfriend. He is a good friend of mine and a great guy. Steff and I are done."

"Ouch, I'm sorry, boy!" my father said compassionately. "That is a hard pill to..." I heard the beep of his text app over the line. "Holy Shit, Scott! You just got dumped by that?"

"Your compassion for me is heartwarming," I said acerbically.

"Oh God, son," my father said, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry. How are you not a sobbing mess to have this come out of nowhere?"

"I'll live," I said curtly. I was really going to enjoy this phone call, I realized. I didn't know how my father would react when it was all said and done, but his shit was going to well and truly flip.

"Um," my father temporized. I knew what he wanted to talk about next, but I let him stew over how to ask. Either that, or he was drooling over the picture of Steff.

Probably both.

"So, Scott, your precarious three-legged stool just lost a leg, has the stool collapsed yet?"

"No. I told you, I am fine. Better than fine. It is the stool that has evolved. Steff's departure crystalized things for us. We are both a lot happier. I know my mind, Dad." I took a deep breath. "I love this woman, and I'm ashamed I didn't let myself realize that. I should have make this happen myself, instead of letting things just go on until Steff brought things to a head."

"Whoa, boy!" my father said, concern in his voice. "Emotions are hot right now. Don't go running off and making desperate choices. And you better be careful," he went on quickly, compassion warring with concern in his voice. "Women are complicated. They have layers that don't all show up right away. At some point, this other girl..."

"Woman, Dad. And her name is Meredith."

"Alright, 'woman'," he allowed sarcastically. "This woman is going to wake up one morning and decide that she was your backup plan. It won't go well. Be ready. And make sure in your own mind that this Meredith is not, in fact, your ba...."

Ding. His text app went off again.

Dead silence this time. I was loving this.

I had sent him link to Meredith's attorney profile page on her firm's website. It featured a large photo of her from the waist up, arms crossed in one of those quarter-turn power poses you see on attorney billboards. She was wearing a remarkably well-tailored suit and her corona of blonde curls was coiffed in what I would call 'Maximum Meredith'.

"I told you that they were both out of my league, Dad." I said quietly.

"Very funny," my dad kind of choked. "You sent me her mother."

"Very funny," I replied. "Meredith is not nearly old enough to be Steff's mother," I went on, deliberately misunderstanding who 'her' was. I paused for half a beat. "She is actually Steff's step-mother."

"What?!?"

This was why I had pulled over. I was laughing so hard, I would have wrecked the car if I were still driving.

"Ha, ha, ha, Scott. Has this entire thing been an elaborate, month-long practical joke on me?"

"No, Dad. It has been the best two months of my life," I said, as seriously as I could convey. "And it is going to be the best rest of my life I can imagine."

"Her step-mother?!?"

"Matthew Chisholm passed away a year and a half ago. Meredith likes to call herself Steff's ex-step-mother. Steff calls Meredith her best friend."

More silence.

I felt I was safe to start driving again.

"You are really serious about all this?" my father asked. "And you are really serious about her?"

"I am as serious as I can be about my whole, ridiculous situation, Dad." I paused. "And I am serious as a heart attack about Meredith."

He sighed deeply. "Than I guess I wish you luck. You are going to need it, boy."

"So you can see why I thought it might be a bad idea to bring them both home to meet Mom?"

My father choked on whatever he was drinking. I suspected that during this call he had poured himself a finger or four of whatever whiskey was currently in the crystal decanter behind his desk. "Yes," he said, his voice raw from inhaling barrel-strength bourbon. "I always thought you had sound judgment."

"Then trust my judgment about Meredith."

"I do. I just don't trust your hormones, boy... Jesus, she is beautiful."

"Thank you," I murmured. "What do you think Mom..."

"You are not running off and telling your mother about any of this yet," my father said with the absolute authority he only occasionally deploys, but which I always obeyed.

"Why not? I just want to..."

"Not. Yet," said Dad, his will makings voice like granite. "Listen, boy. If you actually want this relationship to last, we need to be vary careful that she and your mother get off on the right foot."

"Mom and Meredith are going to get along like a house on fire. In no time, the two of them will be plotting against us both."

"Swell," declared my father. "Another drawback. The worst of it is, I believe you. But don't underestimate the danger of the first reaction of a middle-aged woman to her baby boy bringing home another middle-aged woman. First impressions are forever, boy."

"But Dad," I began.

"Look. I have to make an overnight trip to Atlanta a week from... tomorrow. For a thousand reasons, but mostly those first impressions, I want to meet this woman before you introduce her to your mother. Can you make that happen?"

"I think so. I'll have to check with her. Lucky you have a visit down here coming up so soon."

"It sure is," my father replied tartly. "I just scheduled it about twelve seconds ago. Fortunately, I've needed to pester some folks at Georgia-Pacific for a while now. I could do Wednesday instead if that helps with Meredith's schedule."

"I'll ask her tonight."

My father sighed, and I heard him take another long sip of what I was now sure was bourbon.

"So tell me about her, Scott," he said at last. The sudden supportiveness in his voice warmed my soul.

"She is smarter than me. She is funny, and her sense of humor is possibly more evil than mine or even yours. She is a terrifying litigator with a sky-rocketing reputation. Our tastes in food, cocktails, entertainment, and literature are close enough to be compatible, but different enough be interesting," I said in a rush. "Good enough?"

"You went through all of that and never once mentioned anything physical. I'm impressed."

I chuckled. "One, she is obviously beautiful. Two, she is hotter than she is beautiful. Three..." I paused to think how to say what I wanted to without saying anything crass. I went on in a growling voice, "Three, Jesus. Just... Jesus, Dad. And four," I went on in a suddenly perky voice, "she is a bigger clothes horse than I am."

My father chewed on that for a moment. If the old bastard wanted a vicarious thrill, he could have one or two.

"And Dad?" I added. "Wait until you have a chance to dance with her."

"Ballroom?"

"She's better than Mom."

"Damn. Your mother really is going to love her."

"I hope so," I said simply.

The dinner they served Meredith and me was, frankly, bland. Most restaurant food usually is of course, even when consumed in the company of a woman like mine. Thankfully, neither of us was in a mood to linger anyway, so we finished quickly and paid the check.

Before we left to head to her house, I asked, "Wait, where is Steff?"

"She is out with Alan, I believe," said Meredith, and it irritated me slightly the way she watched me for any sign of jealousy. That said, I checked myself too. Nope. I was smart enough to know in my bones, I got the best possible part of this deal.

I laughed snottily in reply. "She told me that she wasn't just going to jump straight into bed with him like we did. She wants to date for a while like a real couple." I looked at Meredith significantly. "But here she is on a date on a Monday night. Let's see how fast she manages to rack up three dates...."

"Oh really?" Meredith smirked.

"I don't know if she showed you any pictures of him, but in addition to being a generally cool dude, Alan is a quite well put-together young man. It won't be long," I said. How was I not jealous of Alan, I asked myself? The answer of course was that I was quite drunk on Meredith.

We drove separately back to her house, and commenced to plotting. I told her of my call with my father, and found her irritatingly in agreement with him about the need to manage her introduction to my mother.

"But she is going to love you," I protested.

"And I am sure that I will love her too, since she produced you," Meredith replied calmly. "But I am going to be an initially tough pill to swallow for her. Lean on your father's wisdom. And Tuesday after work next week is fine. I'll make a reservation at the Capital Club."

"No way on the planet he lets you buy dinner," I replied, as I texted my dad that we were on.

The pretty came back swiftly:

Dad: Bones. 7:30.

"Told you," I said, showing the text to Meredith. We would be eating at Bones. Dad would buy. Somethings just are.

We found ourselves kissing on the couch, just gentle, companionable kissing. There was no caressing of erogenous zones, and no urge to start tearing each other's clothes off. Just a brief happiness break.

I'm not saying I didn't want to have sex, and lots of it, that evening, but for the first time, I, and I guess Meredith, didn't feel like we had to grab whatever we could, while we could. Reluctantly releasing her lips, I rose and walked over to her small wet bar. "I could use a better drink than they made us at dinner," I said. "You?"

Meredith had followed me. "Yes, I would, which is why I will make them and not you," she said tartly.

"Hey!" I complained, relinquishing neither my position in front of the bar, nor my grasp on the gin bottle.

"Darling, you do many things well," she said. "And some things extraordinarily well," she added with a fairly impressive leer. "But making Martinis is not among those things. You do not chill yours enough, and you use too little vermouth. Let me do my thang," she sang merrily, and hip-checked me out of the way. Being hip-checked by those hips was quite the salve to the ego.

While she mixed, I asked her, "I don't want to be cautions any more about who knows about us. Do you need to? I'm mostly worried about how people at your firm look at you."

She laughed, stirring the Martinis slowly and deliberately for, I'll admit, much longer than I would have bothered. "No, I don't need to hide you, Scott, and I wouldn't anyway, even if I did. But I'm thinking there will be plenty of good entertainment value in the reveal, so let's lay out our campaign."

We took our drinks, not back to the couch, but instead to the small table next to the kitchen, where we sat across from each other. We started with her firm, the only people whose opinion might affect Meredith. Beth, who was apparently Meredith's girl Friday, was, for one, already aware of things.

"She cornered me in the washroom," Meredith said. "I had the Do Not Disturb sign on, but she just barged in on me as soon as she ditched you. First thing she said was, 'Your dance partner did a number of your makeup just now, didn't he?'"

"Oh God, I'm sorry Meredith!"

She bit her fingertip and waggled her eyebrows at me. "You had just given me what I asked for, in spades. Apologies are completely inappropriate. But it did cost me a gallon of Jeni's ice cream to co-opt Beth to our cause. You may consider her in the loop with us. She will be very helpful, no matter how we do this."

"I am thinking that your new beau should have a fetish for sending you extravagant bouquets of flowers every couple of days," I thought out loud.

"I think that is a great idea, regardless of any plotting we might be doing," said Meredith greedily. Until then I had no idea she was so into flowers. This was good intel to have for the long run. "But yes, it would be a sweet but showy way to let people start talking about how I've 'come back to life'."

We went on to discuss that rumors would filter back from the Capital Club through those attorneys who were members. After all, Beth had heard things already, soon others with less loyalty would, too. Meredith was happy to let those fly around for a bit, to prepare the ground.

Then she made me go get online to look at all my class syllabuses. "Check the last weekend in January. I am scheduled for a continuing legal education boondoggle in Grand Cayman. I'm on the rotation with the managing partner, along with Sonja McMasters (she's another senior partner) and two other associates. I'd really like to bring you as my plus one."

"Gee, Meredith. A couple of days in January, hanging out on the beach with you in the Caribbean?" I said, checking my courses "Sounds terrible. Unfortunately, I have no papers or mid-terms assigned around them, so I guess I will have to go with you."

"Oh, goody! Your willingness to sacrifice fills my heart with love and reassurance," Meredith replied drily. "Just remember, while I am putting in those grueling four hour days, including a long lunch, try not to get into too much trouble with Sonya's husband."

"Is he a younger guy, too?"

"Oh Good Lord, no! He's sixty. But I think you two will like each other anyway. We will spend time with all of them while we are down there. You just be your normal, poised, clever self, and never show any fear. Act like you belong, which you do, and they will all bring that back to everyone else. After that, it will all be over... except for the part where I get to be the hero of every middle-aged woman in the building."

It was about this point in time that I realized it had been several minutes since I had kissed Meredith, and that really felt far too long to me. I slid out of my chair, rounded the table wordlessly, and leaned down to rest my lips against hers. My hip leaned on the table as I kissed her. My intent had simply been to express my affection, and my gratitude that she was treating this whole situation as a minor thing, instead of the existential threat to her place at the firm that I still feared it might be. The problem with light, platonic kisses with someone as thoroughly sensual as she, is that it is quite hard not to start progressing rapidly. In no time, I had pulled her up out of her seat and had her leaning against me as I sat on the table's edge. Her breasts pressed against me and my hands explored her ass.

I ran my tongue across the front of her teeth, caressing their even smoothness. But her tongue moved to intercept mine and the two circled each other in the space between our lips. My hands massaged her round, firm ass and she wriggled it happily in response. My fingers began to gather the fabric of her skirt, slowly puling it inexorably upwards, especially in the back. When I felt the hem under my fingers, I slipped my hands down to cup her cheeks. Interestingly, at some time that evening Meredith had ditched her underwear entirely, which made me cry not at all. She arched her back and lifted herself on her toes as I caressed her bare backside.

I slid my fingers downward to the delicate crease delineating the bottom of her bottom, then let them drift further down and to the middle between her legs....

Somewhere in the house, a mechanical clock chimed. It was ten-thirty. I froze, and quickly asked Meredith, "Any idea when Steff will be home?"

She laughed. "Oh ho! Now suddenly it is you who is concerned about us being caughten flagrante delicto, not me?"

"I just... it might embarrassing."

Meredith laughed again. "Maybe. But darling, get used to the idea that I'm going to make a whole lot of little gestures here or there to firmly remind Stephanie that she had her chance, but that you are mine now and going forward. I am no longer going to compete on the Field of Scott."

"Having her walk in on us with me bending you over the kitchen table, rogering you energetically seems a bit more than a 'little gesture'."

"Let the record reflect that at the moment, it is I who have you bent over the table," said Meredith, wrapping her arm even tighter behind my head. "But I like where you are going." Her fingers twined in my hair. "Come on, darling, you don't think it would be just a little bit worth it, getting caught?"

In answer, I resumed sliding my fingers between her legs, and....

We both heard the garage door opener start.

I jerked my head upward at the sound. Steff just had to choose this moment to return home from her date? Then I grinned as I slipped my hand from under Meredith's skirt. "Come on," I said, pulling her upright, "I have an even better idea!"

Meredith agreeably decided to go with whatever I was up to and she swatted her skirt back into place as she followed me. I practically ran to the big couch in the great room before Steff could come inside. We settled down next to each other primly, with me holding her hands in mine atop my thigh. I waggled my eyebrows at Meredith and she seemed to be getting where I was going.

As the door to the garage opened, we stared silently at Steff as she entered. She stopped short when she saw us, or more likely saw me, on the couch. She didn't know what I might be doing there, and the uncertainty showed on her face, along with a tiny bit of irritation, curiosity, and some sweet compassion for what her announcement earlier might have meant for my emotional state.

"Scott..." she began hesitantly, but I cut her off.

"Stephanie," I began in my sternest voice, "your mother and I have been waiting for you. We are concerned about this boy Alan you are seeing. Why don't you sit down and tell us about him?"

"Yes, dear," piled on Meredith. "I'm... we are concerned about you being out so late on a school night with this young man. Are you doing anything with him that we need to be concerned about?"

Steff stared at us, mouth open. Then she stared at us, mouth closed. Then she flopped down into one of the big armchairs nearby and glared at me. "Oh, Hell no. I'm not playing this game with you, Talbott!" Once she bounced to a stop in the chair, she looked at us. "So the two of you have just been sitting here, waiting for me to come home so you can give me shit?"

"No," replied Meredith smoothly. "Scott was actually just bending me over the kitchen table when we heard the garage door. You rather interrupted us, to be honest."