Jacob's Ladder

We transitioned into a dream world of exposed brick polished oak, mahogany, chrome and copper. It was clear that, besides being stunningly beautiful, Evie had a lot of money and extremely cultured taste. It was also obvious that wealth and power all went with it.

Evie quietly led me up another flight of stairs. Being a southern-girl, it was like walking up the wide steps from "Gone with The Wind." We hadn't said anything since we left the restaurant, but I knew where we were going. I had no idea WHY. But, I would have to have been gayer than a tree full of chickadees not to take advantage of it.

The lights in the bedroom were on a motion sensor. They faded up to create a romantic aura as we entered. She unzipped and stepped out of her dress; never taking her eyes off me. The body that was revealed was in a black bra and matching cheekster panties. It was perfect.

She had beautifully proportioned full breasts, a flat muscular stomach, an exceptionally long and narrow waist and a round hip structure, that was both sleek and abundant at the same time. Nonetheless, her legs were the real glory. She had extra-long shapely thighs. They were gloriously, smooth and perfectly muscled.

I was standing there like an imbecile; just gazing at her sheer splendor. She walked over to me, still not saying a word, and expertly dropped my pants. Then she adeptly skinned my shirt off and remarked casually, "Lose those shoes."

She sauntered enticingly over to the bed, undid her bra, bent and did that one-legged thing that women do when they are taking off their panties. Any man attempting that feat would fall on his face, but women make it look graceful and sexy. It also showed off the roundest and most muscular set of buns outside the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated,

She turned to face me, arms extended from her side, palms facing out like one of Da Vinci's anatomical drawings. She was showing me the goods. They were remarkable. She slid gracefully under the covers. I finally stopped gawking and slid in next to her. She propped herself up on one arm, still very elegant and controlled and we kissed. Her lips opened like a flower and she moaned. It was the first sign that Evangeline Queneau was mortal.

I knew what she was doing; her motives had been clear from the moment we left the restaurant. I was as close to a twenty-eight-year-old virgin as she could get. Educating me in the ways of the world was an interesting challenge to a sophisticated woman like her. I'm not sure that it was anything more than curiosity, at least at that point, but I was clearly something different for her.

She was sleek as a seal, satin with steel underneath. She showed me all the places she wanted to be touched, and how to touch them properly. Her passion was controlled, but fierce. I got the feeling that she was gauging me while showing me what making love to a deep and complex woman was like.

It wasn't loud moans and thrashing. She made little purring noises of enjoyment as I slid up into her. She enfolded me with her arms and those fabulous legs and just held me there, deep inside her. Her bright blue eyes were wide open and staring into mine, drawing me to her inner self. Her passage was in constant motion, clenching and nipping.

We just held that position, staring into each other's eyes, merging our souls. It was more like Zen than sex, and it was the most intimate sensation I have ever experienced. I was lost in her.

Then her eyes clouded over and rolled back in her head. She had to have her satisfaction. She began to writhe like a snake; with me still buried to the hilt inside her. Our mutual sweat made the writhing particularly sensual.

It was still almost completely silent, but then her legs began to quiver and she emitted a huge grunt. It was like somebody had punched her in the stomach. Her passage went nuts. I could feel her fluids gush like an opened bottle of champagne. She began rapid-fire moans of sensation as she bucked in a frenzy of desire.

That went on for what seemed like eons. I would have come much quicker with a normal woman, but there was something about the way Evie went about sex that let me prolong the act to a point where we were both totally satisfied.

I'm not a porn star, or even that experienced, but the power of her orgasm made me feel like John Holmes standing on Ron Jeremy's shoulders. Afterward, we lay together on our backs, drenched in sweat, holding hands and staring at the ceiling.

I felt like I had passed some kind of test. She finally said, "That was special Cher. I didn't expect that. We are going to be lovers and I am going to teach you everything." Then she proceeded to deliver the lesson three more times that night.

THE LITTLE FOXES

That was the beginning of life with Evangeline Belle Queneau. Every man should experience a woman like Evie. She was all of the best things about the feminine half. She was a friend, confidant and companion, experienced, knowledgeable, witty and well versed in everything from high culture to the Natty's pitching staff.

She was an endless source of ideas and her sense of humor was second to none, but she was also gentle, nurturing and always on my side. I knew that she wasn't mine. She was only Evie's. She had many men in her life, and I am sure that her job led her to have sex with some of them. She never mentioned it and I never asked.

She had a fierce, almost motherly, devotion to me. In some ways, it was more intense and reassuring than the love of a wife or girlfriend. Initially, we spent a little time together; Then we began spending a lot more. In many respects, it seemed like she had decided to act like a married woman. We spent so many nights together that she asked me to move in with her.

I said worried, "Won't that put a crimp in your love life?"

She was irritated. "I never bring men here. This is my fortress of solitude."

I said, incredulous, "Do you mean I'm the first?"

She laughed lightly and said, "You're my beautiful boy. I love you."

There it was. She clearly loved me in her own way, but I had no idea why. She said it was because I listened; I was smart, kind, considerate and goofy. I had no idea what THAT meant, but it seemed to differentiate me from every other man she'd ever known. A woman as compelling as Evie would attract a lot of sharks. I guess she liked playful otters better.

We were compatible. I was big and good-looking and I had considerable social standing. Money makes people that way, but Evie was a one in a million woman and I was more in the dime-a-dozen category, especially in a place full of power-players.

She said that she got her fill of those kind of people in her day job. But, she only had one beautiful boy. I took that at face value. She loved me in her own way; which might have been the way she'd love a Golden Retriever, but, it didn't matter; I was the only one sleeping in Evangeline Q's bed.

Maybe she was paying it forward to the old goat who educated her, or maybe I just made her feel safe and loved. I had learned a few things in the months we had been together, and one of those was to not ask questions.

It was the most luxurious existence imaginable. Her place was 3,500 square feet of impeccable culture and style, right down to the genuine Old Masters on the walls. It was bright and airy while giving the sense of solidity that a few million will buy you.

Evie had earned every cent of it. And I need to emphasize here; that she didn't make any of that money on her back. She was a fixer, she was the go-to person if you needed a vote, or some insider business. The commissions from her skills were astronomical.

The thing that kept me from feeling like a personal pet was the fact that I was probably richer than she was, even if I wasn't in the same zip code when it came to class. The business was growing under William's judicious management, and with Evie's help I had bagged some serious federal money. All of that came to me in a sole proprietorship when I turned 30.

Evie was such a strikingly gorgeous woman that nobody thought of us as anything but a golden couple. That is, after she finished teaching me how to dress and comport myself. If you want to think of me as a male Eliza Doolittle, feel free. I was fucking the most beautiful woman in DC and developing my own personal style under her tutelage. Anybody who had a problem with that never walked a mile in my tasteful and extremely expensive shoes.

We did the things that are only possible in a cultured city like Washington, and we traveled when work permitted. That was the reason why I had a moment that I will remember forever. One beautiful English summer evening, we were at a Pre-Raphaelite exhibition at the Tate Britain. Evie was working on my art appreciation and I had dropped a considerable sum of money into their coffers, so we were getting special access to the Rossetti collection.

We were wandering the exhibition hall, holding the requisite glass of champagne; accompanied by a docent who was explaining the collection. On her own time, Evie drank straight bourbon, just like a bayou truck driver. Still, because she was the consummate doyen, she could hold a champagne flute and make it look like she was born with one in her hand.

There were several other couples in the room, all of whom were in the million-dollar donor class. I noticed an attractive pair as we circulated. He was an older man; perhaps late fifties, tall, slim, good-looking with a wealth of white hair and an air of utter superiority. His wife was considerably younger. I would guess around my age. She was absolutely gorgeous.

The male member of the couple was leering at Evie. That happens wherever we go, and I don't mind. Knowing that every guy in the room envies you is an ego boost. Nonetheless, it was the fellow's obvious interest that first caught my eye. He was working his way in our direction, no doubt to introduce himself.

Evie was holding my arm possessively. I didn't own Evie. She was with me by choice. But, she's a Cajun woman. Any female who made a move on her man wouldn't know she'd been cut until she walked away and her head fell off.

The strange couple eventually managed to work their way to a place where we would have to say something, or stand there like idiots. I turned to the guy and stuck out my hand. "Jacob." He shook it and said, "Charles."

Evie gave our new acquaintance a blast of her powerful sexuality and said, "Evangeline." She only does that when she is hunting appropriations, or backing off a predator. It was clear she didn't like the dude.

We all turned to the strange woman. She was just standing there eyes wide, with both hands over her mouth. I thought, "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine?"

It was Kate!!

Time froze. I hadn't seen her since that auspicious night at the Gala. She was thirty-four now, just like me, and she had an air of competence and authority that was obviously a product of the sixteen years in between.

She was a beautiful woman, not in Evie's league, but close. Evie was up there in the high country with movie stars and super-models, so comparing the two women was like comparing a Cadillac to a Bentley. There was so much more elegance and refinement with Evie.

Nonetheless, my little third grade pal had grown into a splendid specimen of female pulchritude. Kate's husband was clueless, but Evie picked up on it right away. She turned to Kate and said, "My name is Evangeline. It's a pleasure to meet you." That was said with the sort of animal magnetism that lays Senators at her feet. It was clear that Evie was making a point.

Evie turned to Charlie and said flirtatiously, "Can you show me the Beata Beatrix?" She gave him another dose of her spectacular sexuality. Charlie was absolutely delighted to walk Evie over to gaze at that florid piece of pre-Raphaelite shit, while resting his hand possessively on her shoulder. Normally that would have cost him a limb. But, Evie was clearing out the space to let Kate and I talk.

I looked at Kate. She had tears in her eyes. I was going to say something cute like, "Long time no see," but the sophisticated overlay that Evie had baked into me prevented me from doing that; thank God! Instead, I took both her hands and said, "What a delightful coincidence. You look wonderful, Kate!!"

She continued to stare at me, regret fighting with sorrow. I had to get this under control, or something embarrassing was going to happen. I said, "I assume that Charlie is your husband. He seems like a fine man. Is he a doctor, too?" My busybody sister had told me that Kate was a surgeon at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in downtown Philly.

She shook herself out of her daze and said, "Yes, he was my surgical supervisor and mentor when I was a resident." Then she hesitated and said timorously, "Is Evie your wife?"

I laughed and said, "Evie is one of the top lobbyists in Washington DC, and she doesn't need a man to support her. We've been together for six years and we will probably die in each other's arms."

I could see my remark about dying in each other's arms hurt Kate. But, what was I supposed to say? I added with emphasis, "But Evie is NOT the marrying kind. She's more like a partner, or perhaps the better term would be life-companion."

She said, "Your sister tells me that your business is growing." That was pure conversation. She had no interest in my business, and she had no idea how rich I was.

I said, "We do alright; that's for sure. All those hours I spent trying to become a pale shadow of my old man paid off." I didn't mention that I was the President and Chairman of the Board. I was sure she wouldn't care.

She had never taken her eyes off my face. She was searching for something. Finally, she said, "Do you ever wonder what would have happened?"

I could be honest. Fate had been more than kind to me. I said, "I've never stopped wondering, about that, Kate. But, that's not what the gods decreed. I'm good with that now. We are both where we belong, I mean, my heavens, you save people's lives!"

She smiled self-effacingly, and said, "It's what I wanted and it IS rewarding, but in all those years I never stopped loving you." That was a face-value statement, not meant to lead anywhere.

I said, "Well, I have never stopped loving you, either. The currents of life have taken us in different directions, and we are with other people now. Still, Jake and Kate are forever."

A tear dropped out of her eye. This was getting way too intense. We had both gotten some closure and I, for one, was ready to move on. I gave Evie a signal. She came over, leading Mr. Clueless by the hand.

He still had no idea about his wife's relationship with me, but he WAS beginning to display all the distinguishing traits of Pepe Le Pew. He said conversationally, "So, do you two want to get a drink afterward?"

That was so transparent that I was embarrassed for Kate. I was going to send them on their way, but Evie said seductively, "That sounds charming."

I thought, "What is she up to?" Evie deals with entire battalions of arrogant d-bags. This guy was no different.

I gave her a WTF look.

She gave me her, "Wait!" hand signal.

Kate said, looking sourly at Evie, "No, we really have to get back to the hotel. We're flying out tomorrow morning." Then she grabbed lover boy by the hand and angrily dragged him out of the exhibition hall.

I turned to Evie, one eyebrow raised. She gave me her lighthearted, Scarlett O'Hare titter and said, "That self-important fool actually propositioned me while you were talking with your former girlfriend. He thought you two were attracted to each other. If he only knew."

Then she added mischievously, "So, he wanted to swap. I was curious whether his wife was aware of his shenanigans; and apparently, she is. If she hadn't hosed him down, I would have, but I wanted to know for sure."

I thought with sympathy, "Oh, poor Kate." Part of me was marveling at how little we had known about life when we were together. The other part of me marveled at the amazing woman who had inexplicably decided to adopt me.

ARMAGEDDON

To say the least, Evie and I had a strange relationship. We never used the "L" word, but we were as close as two people could be. She was a dazzlingly sexual female and she wasn't afraid to use her sexuality, especially if she wanted to get something. She was also a monogamous, one man woman. I sincerely believed that. Her personal integrity was indisputable.

She was fiercely independent, and yet she was warm, loving and fun to be with. Most of the independence seemed to be due to her bayou upbringing, but Evangeline Queneau was not wired like any other woman I've ever known. She was a true force of nature.

We had been living together for over twenty years. Occasionally we were apart. We both had heavy lifting to do. But, we were never apart in our hearts. At the end of each day we were always together with a glass of wine; sitting on her little balcony and gazing out over the park.

Did she ever get with someone else? I don't know. She could have, if she wanted to. We had made no pledges or commitments. We were together because we chose to be together. The more important consideration was, "Did I trust her to do the very best she could for us?" That was easy to answer. I know it's a smarmy concept, but we were soul-mates.

Then, one day in my fiftieth year, things changed. Evie had just turned fifty-four. Looks-wise, she could still give all the twenty-year-old hotties a run for their money. But, the wealth of wisdom and experience that she had accumulated over her years had made her into the most talented and sophisticated lover and companion a man could ever ask for.

She had been behaving strangely for a couple of weeks. It was nothing alarming, just kind of distracted. We were sitting on the big sectional in the great room. She was snuggled up under my arm, purring with contentment. I thought it was a good time to ask her what was going on.

We were honest with each other. I said, "You've been moody for a while baby. What's the problem?"

She said, "It's nothing. I'm just a little distracted. I have something on my mind that hasn't worked itself out yet. When it does, you'll be the first to know."

I left it at that. Evie had an adamantine soul. One of the reasons we were so close is that I recognized her strength and intelligence, so I simply let Evie, be Evie. She would tell me when she was ready. No amount of solicitous curiosity was going to get it out of her any sooner.

Of course, I immediately drew the obvious conclusion. She had found somebody else. She was as loving and sexually aggressive as ever, but the thing that made Evie special was her all-in quality, and she was clearly holding something back now.

It didn't surprise me. Evie was the dominant one. She was older, much more experienced and far more attractive to the opposite sex. We have been together for twenty-two years, and I thanked god for every day of it.

Her decision to move on would hurt, but she had the right to make it. She owed me nothing, at least anything that had been sanctioned by a pledge.

My company had grown to the point where our corporate headquarters had relocated to Fairfax. It was a big glass building with my name on it. But, it was not a full-time job anymore. I had the honorary title of "Chairman," but I had hired a bunch of smart guys to actually run the business, and they had countless minions to do their bidding. I spent my time doing advocacy and tinkering in my little workshop. I was still a nerd at heart.

Several days passed. I had my lawyers investigate moving me to someplace in town. I had essentially been boarding with Evie for all the time I was living in DC. I could have easily bought the entire block. But, she insisted that I simply live there with her.