Conditional Return Ch. 01

The smaller great room on this wing was a complete home gym with the exclusion of free weights. The nautilus and other equipment was all that was necessary for a complete body workout, whether your goal was strength and muscle building, or just maintenance of a healthy body.

The other wing was identical, though used for other purposes. The great room was where I kept my computers and was my network hub. I had a small version of the mini computers I had worked on for 22 years and it served as the hub and router for all the other computers in the house. Every room had a PC attached to a local area network, which had its hub in the mini. The mini also had a static IP address into the Internet, so I served as my own ISP. It featured tremendous bandwidth and my boys enjoyed the blinding speed it provided.

This room also contained one of my hobbies. I had been a disc jockey when I was younger and I had always wanted to combine my technical expertise of computers and the Internet and my love for radio into an Internet radio station. I had succeeded and now a large server PC, attached to a jukebox of CD players, played the music I programmed into a DJ client application. Then after months of recording the 350 some odd 45’s and 100+ vinyl albums into digital MP3 files, I had burned these into CDs. Now I could program the order these played in through the software I had written. I had intended to go on to a live call in request show, but hadn’t gotten to the point I could devote three to four hours a night to that, yet.

The speakers in the area, primarily designed to provide monitoring, played a programmed announcement as I explained the setup to her.

“B59, bombing you with favorites. We don’t play rock, we don’t play country, we play favorites, like Elton John, Garth Brooks, Faith Hill and the Beatles. B59 beginning another bombing run of an hour of uninterrupted favorites.”

It was a top of the hour promo and the play on words I used in the station promo led into a montage of movie sound bites where a one-minute story was told of a wartime bombing run and certain other exclamations, then ended with the start of a song. It was a cleaver promo I had put together. It all played on the ‘B59 Bomber’ theme I had sought to create with the station.

There was no B59 Bomber ever in production, though a prototype had flown. But it was piston driven and the jet age was dawning, so it died in test flights. The B59 was only to conjure up the image of B52s and was also the hexadecimal representation of Lana’s birth month and year, B for 11 and 59 for 1959. She knew this and I don’t think the promo was lost on her. I was an old romantic remember?

I had had the idea for the station while were together and had told her of my B59 idea. Though that was over a half-decade earlier, I was sure the reference recalled the memory for her from the look on her face. I continued to act stoic on the understanding the look on her face revealed, and resumed the tour.

One of the bedrooms in this wing had been converted into a photographic dark room and I had forgotten that in the dark room were photos I had taken of her. A whole series of her in a house we rented posing at the kitchen table with a bouquet of roses I had given her. These small 3X5 prints surround a huge 11X14 of her in the last photo I had taken of her.

It hadn’t been taken surreptitiously, but she didn’t know I had it. I had been taking photos of a damaged antique I had returned to her. I was going to file an insurance claim on her behalf. I was certain from her expression she recalled the events on the day I took the pictures. I had merely swung my camera a little further to the right than necessary and had captured her in the frame. It was a digital camera, so cropping her head and shoulders to create a new photo was easy.

It had taken some doing, though, to get the picture to 11X14 without loosing all the clarity and focus when the pixels were stretched, but I had kept playing with it and buying more expensive software until I was able to get it to enlarge and still look good. I continued the tour.

The smaller great room on this wing was a free-weights weight room. The floor had been stressed and padded to support the weight and sustain the shock of heavy weights dropped on the floor.

This wing like the other connected to a six-car garage. This made the house hacienda styling with the four structures forming a central courtyard. I led her next through the door off that wings hallway into the courtyard.

I showed her the pool, the BBQ area, my marijuana green house, though we didn’t go in, and the extensive landscaping I had done to add ambience to the area.

Next we went out to the barn.

“This barn is huge Carl.” She said as we approached the two and a half story structure.

“I designed and built it myself, so as a precaution, don’t ever open both the front and back doors at the same time. It might get wobbly and collapse.” I joked. I led her to the first stall and spoke. The beautiful mare in the stall nickered softly and came to the gate and nuzzled my chest then moved down to my pocket for the apple slice she knew would be there.

As she ate the slice I retrieved for her, I introduced her while lovingly stroking her head.

“This is Coquette, she is my baby aren’t you girl?”

The mare just continued to chew the apple but still nuzzled my chest.

We moved onto the other stalls in the barn. I ‘introduced’ Lana to JeTeme, a black AQHA mare, Lunaire an APHA mare, and Arcana, an Appaloosa mare, then to Randy and Pappy, my two miniature stallions. I had a breeding program where I was breeding miniature stallions with full-sized mares in an effort to develop a pony-sized horse and start a pony-horse registry. I hoped to get a child-sized horse that didn’t have the nasty disposition most ponies have.

What was of significance in these ‘introductions’ was that with the exception of Coquette and the little studs, all the mares were Internet names Lana had used over the years. This had a greater significance because her and I had met on the Internet.

We enjoyed our time together over the weekend, and talked a good deal of the time. I showed her, the cows and hogs I raised for meat and the huge garden, the small orchard and the small berry patch I worked hard to maintain. She was too afraid to see it all from horseback, so we had driven the farm in my Jeep.

These were labors of love and my pride was obvious in displaying them. On Sunday we sat in the morning cool on the huge verandah on the East side of the house and took our coffee and tea watching the sunrise.

She had told me of her marriage to Keith and how she had caught him cheating on her and the pain had been more than she could forgive him for.

I had predicted this, partly because Keith was a Gemini and partly because he was almost ten years younger than her. Lana and I had both followed astrology rather deeply and I had studied it to the level of becoming an amateur astrologer in order to try to predict when Lana would return to me.

I hate to generalize because stereotyping takes away individuality, but my studies had revealed that Gemini males tended to cheat. Not out of an astrological propensity toward immorality or anything (that is Scorpios claim to fame), but out of boredom.

Mercury rules communication and thought and is also Gemini’s ruler. A Gemini’s mind is a whirling tempest of thought, most of the time. So in spite of love feelings, they tend to stray out of boredom. I have interviewed many a divorced woman and if their ex was Gemini, the reason for the divorce was always infidelity. Now this isn’t to say a Gemini man can’t be loyal, but his spouse better remain creative in their relationship to preclude it.

Gemini also insisted on communication and this wasn’t Lana’s strong suit. When things didn’t go her way, her reaction was to sit in a closed bathroom chain smoking and listening to the radio while she sulked for hours. She wouldn’t talk about it so it could possibly be fixed. Their age difference was a separate issue all together.

In his middle thirties he should be enjoying the ego boost of a woman ten years his junior and not the ego let down of a woman ten years his senior. I didn’t say all these things to her I merely consoled the hurt she languished in. That was something else she did.

She would wallow in the pity pool of her sorrows for days, not forgiving or getting over her anger. This starts to wear on a person after a while, especially if the cause of her anger was an honest mistake and not an intended affront.

I fixed her favorite foods from my repertoire of homegrown recipes and never once tried to get into her panties. It was hard for I hadn’t had sex in a while and Lana was so easy I knew if I tried the contents of her panties were mine to claim. I had a plan and so I needed to exercise restraint.

Monday came and my boys would be back from their visit with their mother the next day. So this needed to move forward. It had hurt my boys nearly as much as it had hurt me when Lana ended the relationship, so I didn’t want the boys to see Lana unless she was going to stay.

We sat at the kitchen table chatting over tea and coffee when I posed the question to her.

“So how do you like my little piece of Texas?”

“Carl it is wonderful. I was always reluctant to move to the country like you dreamed of, but after you talked about it so passionately while we were together I came to realize it wouldn’t be the prison sentence as I was thinking in the beginning. Yesterday sitting on the verandah for coffee and tea was so nice. So peaceful and quiet listening to the birds chirp their morning songs, and watching the deer scurry through the yard. So beautiful and romantic watching the sunrise.”

“Yes I love the solitude and the peace and quiet. The fact I can raise my horses and am practically self-sufficient in the food I raise on the hoof and the garden and fruits I grow is just a plus.”

I purposely made small talk to ease any guard that might have arisen, then moved the topic to the purpose of her visit. I was looking forward to what she had to say. I knew her well enough to know what it was, and her response to my question was right in line with my perceptions.

“So what was it you needed from me?”

When I asked it came off sounding like I was totally onboard with anything she might propose. She opened up.

“Remember I once asked for your help in a ‘have my cake and eat it to’ manner? You declined saying you would gladly stipend me if you could have weekend visits. I declined but if you would be willing to stipend me now, I would allow the weekend visits, and where before I told you I wouldn’t meet you at the door in lingerie as I often did when you were coming home while we lived in Arlington, now if that is what you want I am willing to go there.”

She paused to sip her tea, but I am sure it was for effect, and continued.

“I’m not sure you are interested in the special privileges I am offering. I know how horny you are all the time, and yet you have tried nothing with me this weekend. You know it would have happened had you tried. To be honest I was looking forward to it.”

I waited a moment studying my coffee intently before answering to savor the moment and pique whatever feelings Lana was experiencing to crescendo, then I started to speak.

“Lana, I love you. I always have and guess I always will. But you hurt me in ways you can’t even imagine when you did what you did during and after the time you ended our engagement.”

I stopped and took a sip of my coffee. It wasn’t for effect as Lana’s pause had been, I was just collecting my thoughts, I wanted this to come out correctly. Lana seized the opportunity and replied to my comment.

“I know how badly I hurt you Carl and I want to apologize for that. I saw your pain and I was hurting for you that I was causing hurt for you that way. I loved you and it hurts when the one you love is suffering, especially if you are the cause of the suffering.”

She had said something similar to this before, and if I didn’t have a plan it might have pissed me off, for she could have stopped it back then.

Lana was a great actress and something I had come to realize all the years I had awaited her return, was that she had played me like a Steinway by a concert pianist.

“Apology accepted but not necessary. I forgave you a long time ago, sweety. I didn’t say what I did to dredge up old wounds or to solicit an apology. I said it to say I am afraid of you. You walk away too easily when things get tough. Where you could communicate the issues and try to compromise or work through them.”

I paused again. I didn’t want my words to hurt they just needed to be said, so I thought them through a moment before continuing.

“Do you remember when you saw the documentary on HBO in the Spring of 2000 before I went to New Jersey? It was on polyamory and you asked if that was what I was trying to achieve with us. It was apparent from your comments then that you were wrong about me.”

“But then I was wrong about you too. You see I thought and stated on many occasions that you were addicted to the lust high. You even coined the phrase lust high the first time I had ever heard it used. I thought you were addicted to the salacious and tawdry. But that isn’t it, at all. I was wrong and I apologize for following the lines I pursued while trying to make you happy in that respect.”

“I know that Carl. The pressure at the time blinded me to the fact then, though.”

I hadn’t intended to solicit a response with my pause. So I just continued as if she hadn’t said anything.

“I saw a 60-minutes piece awhile back on sex addiction. I believe that to be your problem. The first time I heard the term sex addiction I thought shit if you have to be addicted to something why not sex, but now I know that sex addiction can be harmful, and what is funny it isn’t about the sex.”

“Well you know I love sex Carl, that is why we are so compatible you old horn dog, but I don’t think I would go so far as to say I was a sex addict. That is a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

I chuckled at the horn dog reference and continued.

“You missed my point Lana. It isn’t about the sex. Sex is just a tool, a means to an end. It is the intense lust that accompanies the sex that is the replacement for the love you are missing. You have all the classic symptoms.”

“I read an article recently that said the chemicals released in the brain during sex are six-times more addicting than heroin and ten times more than nicotine. But like I said it isn’t the sex and so the chemical release just fuels the purpose. You cheated on Jonathan throughout your marriage. I once asked you to think back and refute or confirm the times you cheated were times when you were upset or angry with him. You never gave me a response to that question. Though I still think the answer would be as I alluded to, the upset or anger implies you were cheating from revenge. That isn’t the reason though. The reason is simply that your emotional needs weren’t being met. The intensity of the lust feelings and the brain-chemical release during sex, especially during illicit sex, is akin to the intense romantic feelings that occur at the start of a new relationship.”

My coffee was getting cold so I paused to take a sip. Lana thought it time to defend herself.

“Yeah, I probably was upset with Jonathan when I cheated on him.”

“As I predicted. But to your credit, if credit can be gained from cheating in your marriage, it wasn’t that you were getting even. It was you were trying to gain feelings you felt were lost. To your credit you felt guilty after an episode of cheating or as you told me you died a little inside and swore that was it. When we met you told me the Lana that cheats was dead. But you can’t prevent yourself from doing it again when the correct circumstances reach a certain point. I know you were upset with me when you cheated on me. So that lends credence to that theory in our relationship. Sex addicts seek the feelings of intensity associated with fresh romance. When a relationship is new the romance is rife, and your needs are fulfilled. After a relationship settles into the day-to-day existence, you grow edgy from the lack of intensely romantic assertions toward you. Jonathan’s mistakes and mine were we were in positions that required we travel and so you were left alone. It didn’t matter how hard we tried to make up for it when we were home, the deficit could not be atoned for.”

I stopped and went to get a fresh cup of coffee and Lana moved to my side to freshen her tea so I continued to speak.

“You need a man who comes home to you every night. A man to make you feel safe, to cuddle with at night. That hot-water bottle as you refer to him and excuse me for saying so, but to throw a good hard fuck into you on a regular basis. But there are other things that make a relationship with you difficult, Lana. ”

“You are non-communicative and won’t tell your partner when these edgy feelings arise. You just cheat. That is inherently unfair, for someone who truly cared about you would likely try to mitigate the feelings you were having and try to put safeguards in place to prevent them recurring in the future. So a lot of it is on you.”

She tried to defend herself again.

“I know I don’t talk about my feelings, I just act on them, and I wouldn’t try to tell you it won’t happen again. With you semi-retired though and home all the time, it would be different. You once told me I needed to be cheated on to understand the level of pain that brought into a relationship. I have been now and I understand just as you said I would, so where does this all leave us?”

We moved back to the table.

“You are right. Both of those facts do tend to mitigate the past, as the circumstances that cause you to cheat are gone. But I still believe the old adage ‘once you taste forbidden fruit’. I can and have forgiven you and I firmly believe trust can be rebuilt, but you took away the innocence Lana. That can’t be restored. I can’t look at a friend and truthfully say ‘Lana will never cheat on me’, because you already have.”

“I completely understand what you are saying and can only say again, I am so sorry for the pain I caused you, Carl. It would appear your Scorpio desire for revenge is rearing its ugly head, and that you aren’t going to help me in my hour of need. I can understand that and I don’t blame you actually.”

Lana was starting to give up, so I quickly moved to what I had in mind. I had pretty much covered what I wanted to say anyway.

“It seems apparent to me your primary purpose for this visit is not out of a sense of destitution, though that does play into it. Rather it is to move back into a romantic personal relationship if that is possible. Maybe I am wrong, but that is my perception. As I said, I still love you, but I am afraid of you. So where does that leave us?”

The question was rhetorical and required no answer, and it was apparent from the downtrodden look on Lana’s face, she thought all hope gone until I continued.

“I don’t desire to seek a personal relationship with you, but I am not such a cold hearted bastard as to not be willing to help you. I do this out of past love, though and not out of a desire to rekindle what we had, I want to make that clear before I say anything further.”

The bone I had just thrown out lifted her feelings and Lana lit up a bit and with a demure countenance replied simply “I understand.” From the next sentence though Lana saw her chances start to disappear and dropped back into her despair.

“I don’t have a position to offer you in my company. It isn’t the consulting firm it was before, and I have no position like the one you filled before.”