Cinderella

She leaned forward as she worked, tenting her long auburn hair around us, and stared intently into my eyes. It was like she was trying to meld our souls. I was embedded in her to the hilt, and she was grinding and panting with effort like a bitch in heat.

Then she said in a strangled voice, "Oh Jesus!!!" Her eyes crossed and they rolled dramatically up into her head. Her mouth drooped wide open, and her body began outrageous, high frequency shaking. The subsequent orgasmic thrashing could only be described as "out of control."

That tripped my circuit breakers, and I came so hard that the atmospheric pressure inside her womb must have changed. While that chaos was happening in my nether regions, Billie's autonomic contractions were milking me like a berserk Iowa farmhand.

Afterward, she lay on me unmoving for several seconds with her insides still extremely busy. I was trying to get consciousness back online myself. It took a while.

She finally pushed herself wearily into a sitting position, still astride, and with me buried inside her only slightly softer. She said with an impish grin, "WHEW!" I said "WHEW!" She rolled off me and burrowed under my arm, head on my chest.

She lay there for another minute. Finally, she said with a twinkle in her voice, "That was utterly amazing. You've just turned me into your love slave for life."

That might have been a slight overstatement. Nevertheless, the little voice in my head yelled "YES!!" - did an end zone boogie - and spiked the ball.

My heart rate might've been in the two-hundreds. Yet, my mind had never been clearer. I said, "Well then, we're going to have to make it official as soon as we can."

Okay... I get it!! It's crazy to marry somebody you've known for less than two months. But the old adage about "he-who- hesitates..." was running through my head. Billie was a rare prize and I had to stake my claim or risk losing her.

Consequently, the following week we drove up through the part of Wisconsin that the Michiganders call the Upper Peninsula, to spend a weekend at the Grand Hotel. The nineteenth-century world of Mackinac Island was a revelation for my new family. Ally in particular loved the horses.

The wedding was on the West Porch with the Straits in the background. It was just us four, as it would always be. Ally was Billie's bridesmaid and bashful Ronny was my best man. St. Anne's provided the priest.

He was a decent guy. He knew that we had a divorce problem. Nonetheless, he thought that God wouldn't mind if he said a few words on a porch.

Billie was wearing a brilliant pale blue and white wedding dress. She'd sewed it herself. It looked vaguely like the gown that Cinderella wore to the ball. But that's a fairy tale. Stuff like that doesn't happen in real life.

*****

And naturally, we all lived happily ever after -- NOT. Because marriages don't work that way. Marriages involve people and people are notoriously fickle. Which isn't to say that Billie and I didn't have a love for the ages. It just meant that we had to work to overcome the shit that inevitably happens between husband and wife.

Billy's farm was part of the community property, and they were desperately trying to sell it before it was foreclosed. So, the obvious solution was for her and her kids to move in with me. Accordingly, the two of us wrangled all of her possessions into my house over one weekend. There were a few uncomfortable weeks while we rearranged things and then we settled into a married routine.

The addition of three new mouths to feed was a cost. But I wasn't prowling the bars anymore, so we actually saved money. More importantly, I had a woman in my life who was far beyond my meager expectations. Which naturally, presented a new problem to a psycho like me.

Billie was gorgeous and a sexual dynamo and that bothered me a lot - mainly because I'm an insecure weenie. I knew that I had lucked into her because she was born in a nowhere place, and I was the first guy she'd met who wasn't a Wisconsin shitkicker.

I appreciated my good fortune and all. But I was also aware that I had brought this stunning woman into the wider world where the predators lurked, and I was punching above my weight. I mean seriously -- I'm a pretty confident guy as a middleweight. But Billie was fuckin' Muhammed Ali.

Maybe you can empathize. I had a wife who was so spectacular that the likes of Bezos, Branson, or Musk would be proud to have her on their arm. Hence, whenever we walked into a room, people just assumed that I was either wealthy or in possession of a twelve-inch unit. Sadly, the answer to both those ideas was, "none of the above." So, what are you going to do if you're me?

I was aware that I wasn't giving Billie enough credit. She'd proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was a person of honor and integrity. So, in effect, my thoughts were an act of disloyalty. But still, I had to lay them to rest before I could be entirely at peace.

A single guy in a neighborhood is a curiosity. Hence, I'd always been more-or-less invisible to the families who lived around me. That's probably the reason why the locals acted as if we'd just moved in when my readymade family arrived.

One of the real joys of being around kids is discovering the people they're going to become. Within weeks, beautiful Ally was the most popular girl in the sixth grade. On the other hand, poor shy Ronnie had no friends, and he got sadder and sadder as time passed. It's very hard for a little boy to lose his dad through a divorce. They always blame themselves.

Ronnie's sadness triggered an odd reaction in me. I was more affected by his unhappiness than I might have been if he was my biological child. Maybe I saw too much of the young me in him. Anyhow, I signed him up for kid soccer and even volunteered to coach the team as a way to get him involved with other boys.

During my visits to the UK, I'd played and watched a lot of what the Brits speciously call "football." The Fox Point soccer field wasn't Stamford Bridge, and my under-tens would never be mistaken for the real CFC. But my version of the mighty Blues finished the season top of the table and big strong Ronnie was our star.

More importantly, the team's camaraderie and Ronnie's personal accomplishments brought him out of his shell, and he seemed truly happy for the first time. Billie sensed it too and she kept cutting me adoring looks. She knew I was the one behind her son's newfound confidence.

Ronnie had a best buddy who was our striker, and in my opinion, spoiled rotten. But Cade was a wily little shit and he worked Ronnie mercilessly. Ronnie, who was just as naive and trusting as his mom, loved the little varmint. So, I tolerated him and his dad.

Cade's father was my self-appointed assistant and another in the long line of conceited fools I've had to suffer. He was in corporate sales, which meant he oozed testosterone. He was age-appropriate for the other fathers on the team, the early thirties and he was very fit and good looking. Plus, he was a typical Fox Point home buyer, meaning he had money to burn.

I coached in a sweatshirt and shorts, wearing red Chuckies. While Chad pranced around in royal blue warmups with CFC's "lion rampant regardant" logo on the chest and Adidas Predators on his feet. All his showing-off did was remind me of the joke about the number of Chelsea supporters it takes to change a lightbulb. The answer is one - they hold the bulb and expect the world to revolve around them.

But Chad had clearly watched a lot of Premier League games. Because when he was around the kids he talked like a Sky-One commentator. You know what I mean -- lots of "Oh well played's," "nice idea's," "brilliant challenge's," and "into touches," all said in distinctly received pronunciation. That gave him loads of cred with the other parents.

Consequently, everybody thought that Chad was the aficionado, while I was only a dad. Which was fine with me since I was there for my kid, not to leave the mistaken impression that I was born in the West End. But the thing that irritated me the most was old Chad's barely disguised disdain for me.

I clearly didn't fit into his arriviste mold. I was over a decade older and maybe a tad less affluent since I'd bought into that pricy suburb during the housing crash. Worse, I'd committed the unforgivable sin of having a wife who was exponentially hotter than Chad's own woman. I could guess by his attitude that he thought that Billie deserved better.

He had enough smarts to stay out of the actual coaching since he really didn't know anything about the game. But he liked to stand on the sidelines in his warmups looking noble. It left the impression that he was there to take over once the inevitable infirmities of old age caught up with me.

Then, at the end of the season, he threw a barbeque at his palatial McMansion to celebrate his "success." Keep in mind these were eight and nine-year-old boys, not the millionaire players in the Champion's League. But my pal Chad was treating the event like the Queen herself was going to present the trophy.

I mean seriously!! The man was a pretentious clown, and his kid was an insolent little shit, badly in need of a trip to the woodshed. So, nothing could possibly go wrong in that scenario, right?

It was a beautiful fall Saturday in the Badger state. Ronnie was super excited since he had just been voted MVP for the entire under-tens and he and his buddy Cade were going to receive the award from the league president at the barbeque.

Alright, to be completely honest the league president was a suburban housewife, and Cade's only association with the MVP was that he had talked Ronnie into sharing it. But who's counting?

Both Billie and I were over the moon for our little guy. Obviously, Ally and her super-sophisticated twelve-year-old friends' saw this as stupid boy stuff. Still, she was happy for her brother. So, she even condescended to join us, looking bored of course.

We arrived at Chad's house promptly at four o'clock. Billie had one of her world-famous charcuterie concoctions and yes indeed, my wife was indeed an excellent and very sophisticated cook! While I was clutching a decent Bordeaux.

Chad, sans wife, greeted us at the door in his skin-tight warmup. It was like he was waiting for Billie to show up... Unbelievable!! Did he have the thing tailored to show off his package??!!

I didn't like the way he was looking at my wife. It was as if she was a little wooly lamb, and he was a hungry wolf. I immediately went to battle stations. Billie must have noticed too. But she's civilized and it was a little premature to call the dude out.

Thus, she went through the standard greeting procedure which included a slightly prolonged hug. I was the coach. Hence, the league president, whose origins sounded faintly Mancunian, hijacked me to talk about the award ceremony, leaving Ronnie, Ally and Billie in shithead's clutches.

It really was a lovely, framed certificate. Ronnie could put it up in his bedroom along with a little trophy. I emerged back onto the deck to see Ally sulking on a bench playing on her ubiquitous phone and Ronnie larking around the pool with his pals, but no Billie!!

The rest of the group was socializing over drinks. It was an affable crew, mid-thirties wanna-be denizens of the C-suite. Then I spotted Billie as far away in the back as you could get.

It looked like Shithead was giving her a tour of the place, guiding her with his hand placed low on the small of her back, not quite on her fabulous buns. They got to the rear fence, which had a bright row of tulips planted along it.

Assface stopped Billie there and more or less turned her toward him. There was an arrogant smirk on his handsome face as he leaned down and said something to her. Billie reared her head back and there was a minute of her jamming her finger in his chest. That was followed by a short conversation that involved headshaking, finger-wagging, and more jabbing.

He said something else, and Billie pivoted on one heel and came stomping back toward the house with steam coming out of her ears. She walked up to me and said angrily, "We're leaving!!"

I said calmly but firmly, "No we're not. This is Ronnie's day and I'm not going to spoil it. Now, calm yourself down."

People were beginning to look inquiringly in our direction. I said apologetically, "She just found out how much I spent on our new riding lawnmower." That's a perfectly valid explanation in suburbia. So, they went back to what they were doing.

Dickbreath was walking in our direction, looking like he wanted to do some major butt-covering. So, Billie grabbed me by the shirtfront and dragged me into the utility room off the deck. She slammed the door, turned to me, and said, "Do you know what that asshole just said to me!!"

I said with mild irony in my voice, "I can guess."

She said, "He offered to give me a night of sex that I would never forget!! You men are such morons!! Do you EVER use that auxiliary brain located in your skull??!"

I chuckled and said, "Rarely." Then I added tongue in cheek, "Let me encourage you to tell me what you REALLY think." My wife was one very pissed-off woman.

Billie said boiling, "I told him he wasn't man enough to handle me and he told me that he was a hell of a lot more man than an old guy like you." Well-well-well... it looked like I'd be needing a new assistant.

Billie was still spitting like an angry cat. She said, "So, I told him that he only wished that he was half the man you were... that I couldn't get enough of what you gave me. That shut him up."

She finished angrily, "I told him that even if he was the stud he claimed to be, which I might add that I didn't believe, I'd made a promise to you, and I wasn't going to throw away my honor for something as meaningless as sex with him.

She added fuming, "I told him that there are a few more important things in life than adultery - like family, children, and the love of a good man."

Then she stopped and looked at me pleadingly. It was endearing really, she wanted me to understand and accept something that I already knew. She said gently, "The life we've built together, is infinitely more important to me than a simple biological function. You believe that don't you?"

I got it -- Shithead had made the classic guy mistake. There's a persistent belief among us denizens of the treehouse that every female, except of course your own wife and mother, is eager to forgo home and loved ones, not to mention their pride, for the opportunity to experience "mind-blowing" sex with any swinging dick who happens to wander idly by.

The shrinks call it "projection." Basically, a fellow who believes that fairy tale is projecting his own emotional shortcomings and infantile fantasies onto the people around him.

Admittedly there ARE women that stupid - Billie's mom being a prime example. But normal people don't act that way. Which is why, any female with a shred of self-respect would be justifiably outraged by the assumption that she'd willingly sacrifice her personal integrity for a roll in the hay with a narcissistic d-bag.

The good news was that Shithead's trying it on with Billie confirmed once and for all how seriously she took the issue of her personal fidelity. It was odd how the actions of morally bankrupt people just kept driving us closer -- first Billie's mom and now Assbreath.

At that point, somebody knocked on the utility room door and told us that they were ready for the award ceremony. I hastily kissed my wife and said, "Now, let's get out there and act normal for Ronnie's sake."

The ceremony made us proud, and our son was overjoyed. Naturally, Ronnie's buddy Cade tried to hog the limelight. But everybody knew he was a poser, just like his father. All Cade's antics did was make my son seem even more magnanimous.

I was careful to keep Billie away from Douchebag. It was obvious that she still wanted a piece of him... and not in that fun sorta way. Because every time he glanced apologetically in her direction, she'd growl a warning, like she was a Doberman contemplating ripping out his throat.

I hear you asking, "And what did YOU get from that experience?" Well, I'll tell you what I got... In the end, I knew for absolute-certain-sure that my loving wife and I would face the wolves together, back-to-back, horns pointed out, until death-did-we-part.

EPILOGUE

Provence in the summer is perhaps the most beautiful place on earth and Avignon is its crown jewel. Billie and I were sitting in the soft sunlight on the top deck of the boat with a bottle of the local Chateauneuf-du-Pape taking in the Belle Epoch architecture that lined the quay. It was a bit early to be drinking. But it seems like the only entertainment you get on a river cruise is local color and alcohol.

It wasn't our official thirtieth anniversary. That would come in a couple of months. This cruise was to honor the extraordinary day that another guy's blind date changed my life. Up to that auspicious point, I'd merely settled - after Billie I'd excelled.

The money from the books and the other rewards of a successful career let us travel. While the proceeds from Billie's art doubled the pile of money. So, life was comfortable. But the real reward was the ability to spend thirty years with a brilliant and dynamic partner.

Billie's spectacular beauty hadn't faded at age sixty. It had just become more refined, like the fine wine we were sipping. She still had her eye-popping curves but those were an infinitesimal part of her attraction. What DID amaze me was how easily her powerful spirit had broken the bonds of a simple farmer's wife and become the passionate, sophisticated, and compelling person she was today.

We'd raised three wonderful children. Huh??!! I hear you asking, "Three??!"

Billie wanted a child with me, and she was still only thirty-one. Even so, starting out as a new daddy at age forty-six was a scary proposition. But of course, my new daughter's sweet little soul changed my mind about parenthood, just as her mother altered my thinking about love.

With the possible exception of her mom, little Britannia was the love of my life. Okay -- I admit it. I'm a bit of an Anglophile. She's twenty-seven now, with all of her mother's beauty and the advantages we were able to give her.

She didn't waste them either. She's currently with the U.S. Attorney's office in DC. But there is talk that she would be an ideal candidate for the House from her district in Maryland.

Her husband plays for the Caps. He's a Canadian, polite, open, and friendly. It's weird really. Gus graduated from Moose Jaw High and he's not especially bright. But he makes six-million-five a season. Brit's brilliant. She graduated from Marquette Law, and she makes sixty thousand a year. I guess Brit's problem is that she can't put the puck in the net like her husband can.

But they seem to be modeling their marriage after Billie's and mine... boundless mutual respect to go along with the love and affection that you have when you really like each other. Trust me... They will have a happy life.

I loved the other two kids just as much as my biological one. But I didn't have the advantage of knowing them as babies. Ally, the beautiful, got a degree in theater arts from Marquette. It was a logical career path for somebody who lit up every room she walked into. Her mom would have probably been a movie star too if she was born in a different place.

Ally was always special to me. But we had to let her go early. She got her first professional modeling gig at age sixteen, a mere four years after we'd met. She's on the west coast now. I sometimes see her on a TV show, or in a movie. But according to the tabloids she's mostly focused on raising my grandchildren. Her kids call me Gam Paw... so much to love and so little time.