Jasmine and Achilles Jones

I was surprised. Rangers were supposed to be bullet proof; first sergeant had told me so in training camp. So there I was with a bullet lodged near my heart and a shard of shrapnel buried in my ass. What a wonderful way to get a ticket home—not.

That I'd made a herculean effort to fall on the nurse and shield her from the incoming even while she was prepping me to get the bullet removed from my chest didn't make me feel any better, her body did feel good under me. Laying there on top of her was how I got the shard of Taliban metal in my butt. At any rate, two purple hearts and a bronze star were not even close to fair recompense for having to leave my buddies to deal with the Taliban while I cut country. But, orders were orders; I was going home.

I'd spent six weeks in a veteran's hospice recuperating from the surgeries that I eventually needed. The good news was that except for some scaring, I was going to be fine. Hell, I'd even made corporal as soon as I got stateside; the pay was a little better and the perks a bit of an improvement too. I should mention that being a corporal in the Rangers was roughly the equivalent to being a brigadier general in any of the other services—no LOL.

Twenty-one, a corporal in the Rangers, some serious medals, and a whole lot of life experience: I was ready for the next big step, finding the right woman to share my life with. But, I was no fool. I knew I needed an education, and I needed a job too before I began the hunt for a mate. The GI Bill would pay for school, but, as for a job, I wasn't a lifer and I would be mustered out of the military in just another sixty days. I called my friend Drew Wilson.

Drew owned the Head Trip, a sawdust joint with pretensions to being a high class bistro where professionals hung out after work hours most days. Lawyers, doctors, a few cops, and some business types mixed and matched with the riff raff and got their tea leaves read by whatever bartender was on duty.

Most people don't understand the job description of a true professional bartender. A bartender is a friend, a psychologist, a philosopher, and sometimes even a bodyguard. Bartenders serve a vital function in the great cultural scheme of things. So, with the hand up from Drew, I became a full time, full-fledged barkeep.

Working and going to school became my modus operandi for the next three and a half years. I went to school online and got my B.A. in Philosophy and my M.S in General Psyche, all paid for by Uncle Sam. No, I had no intention of teaching school or becoming a Psychologist. I wanted the degrees to increase my value as a bartender, and eventually it did.

I was twenty-five. I was in great shape physically—once a Ranger always a Ranger. I was pulling down fifty-k annual, when tips were added in. And, I owned my own home. But, I was still missing the final piece in the fabric of my life, a woman. That final piece came at me at the end of a particularly grueling shift, that on one particular Friday evening.

******

"AJ?" said the voice to my left.

"Yes." Then I looked and a big smile creased my features. "Geezsus, Jasmine! How long has it been?" I asked. Well, I just needed to be saying something.

"Since high school big boy. And, you really are a big boy aren't you," she said. "I heard you joined the Navy or something after high school." At five-seven and 160, I wasn't actually all that big, but she could see that so I didn't mind the opening.

"The Army."

"Huh? Oh yes, the Army," she said. "But, you aren't with the Army now are you?"

"No, not for a few years now," I said. "Been working here for some four years plus."

"Well, you sure look good," she said. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"Uh—can I get you something," I said.

"White wine," she said.

I moved down the bar to get the wine, poured it and returned. I set it down in front of her, and wiped the bar to her left; well, it's a habit all we barkeeps have.

"So, you married?" she asked, smirking.

"No, haven't met the right girl, I guess," I said.

"Really, I would've thought that a handsome fellow like you would have been taken early on," she said, still smirking.

I appraised her. She was nice looking, not runway gorgeous but interesting. Maybe five-five, and one-ten. Her red hair flowed around her shoulders daring men not to stare. She had freckles that enhanced her pale complexion and a quick way of glancing around that was—disconcerting.

Jasmine and I had dated some in high school, and nights making out with her in the back seat of my Chevy would always be something I'd remember.

"How about you, you married," I asked, since she'd asked first.

"No, almost, a couple of times, but no," she said.

I smiled like the predator I was, "Wanna go out sometime?' I said.

"Sure, okay," she said. "I'm free Saturday. Oh, but that has to be a busy night for you," she said.

"No, as a matter of fact, I have my weekends off. I fill in once in a while if one or another of the crew gets sick, but basically my weekends are free," I said. "Just so you know, I'm on 3:00PM to 11:00PM week days."

"How about you," I said, "you working?"

"No, not at this time. I was, but not now. I'm thinking about getting a job though. But, still looking," she said.

We talked off and on for two hours; we filled in most of the gaps in our lives, and taken together there were a lot of gaps to fill in. Half a dozen guys hit on her while she was there, but she politely brushed them off. I had the feeling that she was a pro at handling the male element in most situations.

The date was made for 7:00PM Saturday. I would pick her up at her apartment.

******

"Well, girlfriend, tell me about this new guy in your life. Is it serious?" said Karen Olson.

"Yes, Karen, it's serious. I have some misgivings, but it is definitely serious," said Jasmine.

"Misgivings?"

"Yes, one anyway," said Jasmine. "Karen, he's only a bartender. He has two degrees and he only wants to tend bar; go figure. I'm concerned that he hasn't any drive or ambition," said Jasmine.

"Jas, it's not a nothing job. Maybe he likes dealing with people. Is he a heavy drinker or anything?" said Karen.

"No, not especially. It's just—I don't know—I just want more for him, for us," said Jasmine.

"Well, I think you're being silly. But, if it bothers you maybe you should look elsewhere for a mate," said Karen. "I mean you're going to be married for a very long time if you're lucky."

"Maybe you're right. I do want a man who is up to my standards. Achilles is a good man. He was in the Army too you know, but—well—a bartender! It just isn't what I'd envisioned that I would be married to," said Jasmine.

They talked for some time and then called it a night. The waitress brought the check. Karen studied her friend for a moment. "Jas, you need to figure out what's important to you. Don't string this guy along; it wouldn't be good for you or him in the long run."

"I know," said Jasmine.

******

"A lot different than when we were in high school, huh?" I said.

"Yes, it certainly is, AJ," said Jasmine. We were driving toward Lookout Point. It had been our favorite rendezvous when we were in high school together. I pulled into a darkened copse with a view of the Valley and all its lights.

Dinner at the Sportsman had been good, the wine excellent, and the conversation fluid if a bit tentative. I had an uncomfortable feeling that she wanted to tell me something, but was nervous about getting it out. But at the moment only the look and smell of her had any real meaning for me.

This was our fourth date. The first had been that Saturday night three weeks earlier. That had been a bit of an exercise in rediscovery. The next two had been marathon necking sessions. But, tonight, if I had my way, was going to be an epic sexcapade with damn little held back.

"You look very beautiful," I said leaning back against my door.

She was smiling; that was a good omen. She leaned in to kiss me. "Let's get in the back," she said. I immediately made a mental note to offer human sacrifice to the gods of Greece and Rome in thanks for the gift I was about to receive from their bounty.

One minute later, or less, we were in the back and hugging. Then kissing. Then touching and feeling each other up. Then kissing some more. She pushed me back and undid my belt and my pants. I started unbuttoning her blouse.

Her blouse and bra, the bra unhooked from the front, were open and hanging loose around her shoulders; her tits were exquisite. She pushed me back.

"AJ, I want to talk to you for a moment," she said.

"Huh! Now?" I squeaked.

She giggled, "Yes, now." I sagged back against the door literally pouting. Worse my dick was wilting like a flower in a snow storm.

"AJ I think I'm falling in love with you. If that scares you maybe you should tell me now," she said. It was a helluva lead in.

"Scare me? Taliban bullets didn't scare me, the roller coaster at the mountain is hohum to me, and a little piece of fluff like you sure as hell doesn't scare me," I said, smiling broadly. "The fact is, Jas, I fell in love with you about five minutes after seeing you again a month ago."

She looked serious. Now, I was worried. "AJ, what do you intend to do to support us if we go the whole route?" she said. I could tell from the way she said it that my remaining a bartender was not high on her list of career moves. But here I was determined to be a man not a mouse.

"I've got a good job now, Jas. I know it's not high class; but it's what I love. And, frankly, I'm good at it. Office work and all of the phony bullshit that goes with it is not for me," I said. "You have to understand that if we have a chance." I could see she was wrestling with herself.

"Okay," she said, "if it's what you really want and need."

She moved to me and kissed me and soon we were naked. And it felt good.

She leaned forward and stroked my dick to diamond hardness. She licked it up and down and I wondered where she had become so expert in tongue-teasing a man. I was going insane from the tension she was building in me. I exploded into her mouth and she swallowed every drop. My dick shriveled like a Styrofoam cup in a barbecue pit.

"My, you shrank kinda fast, big boy. Let me see if I can resurrect the dead!"

I was more than confident of her ability to do just that. It took her some minutes, but I was soon reassured that my confidence in her skills had not been misplaced. My cock brought back to life and its manly five inches threatening her womanhood, I gently pushed her back onto the seat and loomed above her. She was soaking wet. I wanted to go down on her, but I just couldn't wait to take her, so I did.

She bucked like a bronco and rammed her pussy back at me with every stroke I pounded into her. I lasted a good seven or eight minutes and she got off at least twice in that span.

We rested for a while and she got me up yet again. Stroking me, she leaned in and kissed me. "Take me from the rear, okay, AJ," she said.

I positioned her over the back of the seat and she spread her knees wide to accommodate me. I slipped into her and took long slow thrusts into her until I could tell from her short breaths that she was nearing still another orgasmic event. That one shook her. I think she started to cry. But, soon she was making weird noises as yet more spasms shook her to the core.

"Fuck that was good," she said, as she sagged back down into the seat.

We lay beside each other hugging and making unintelligible noises that were clear to us, but would have sounded like whale soundings to submariners.

After that night, I heard no more about my career choices. We dated three and four times a week, and after some six months I formally proposed and we were married three months after that. The ceremony was muted but elegant: our families, a few friends, and a nice reception. I loved her; she loved me, and soon she was pregnant. Nine months later the twins arrived: Marie and Tina.

The girls were our pride and joy. Jasmine was a stay t home mom until the kids started school—that was five and half years into the marriage. That point in our married life was the demarcation line. It separated our happy uncomplicated early days from the strife ridden years to follow. I didn't realize it at the time, but our problems had begun the very night of our girls first day in first grade.

I should have realized it. Half way through the semester, I heard Karen Olson giving Jasmine hell for something. When they saw me they clammed up; it bothered me, but since I had no idea what was what, I let it go.

That first day of school, at any rate, Marie and Tina were so excited telling mommy and daddy about all of the things that they did and a new friend that they had made and their teacher, Mrs. Hathaway, all of it. In bed by 8:00, the girls were asleep almost before I turned out the lights and headed downstairs.

"Girls sure are happy, AJ. I like that. It's good that they are so happy about school," she said.

I smiled and agreed. "You are so right. It's a good start," I said.

"They're happy, you're happy, I'm happy but... AJ, I want to get a job. You know, one I can do in the daytime while the girls are in school," she said.

I looked over at her. "You've never said anything about working, honey. Why now?" I said.

"The obvious. The house is going to be awfully quiet during the day, and I don't want to just sit around and be bored," she said.

I couldn't think of a good reason to tell her that she shouldn't do it. So, I said the only thing I could say. "Okay, honey, if it's what you really want to do. But we don't need the money," I said.

She hugged me, and we made love and then we slept the sleep of the blessed. The era of good feeling was not destined to last.

******

Jasmine eventually settled on a job selling real estate. She had to attend classes for a while in order to get her license; but she was a sharp student, and soon she was making money. Boy did she ever make money. Inside of a year she was making double what I was making. That fact and the fact that she never really had cottoned to my being a bartender began to undermine our relationship. I would discover later that—well—she was less than proud to be my wife. When I did find out, it hurt; it hurt a lot. And I heard it from Karen Olson.

******

It was June and it was getting hot. Summer was always a test for man and beast in the Valley. The temperatures could reach 110 routinely during stretches in July and August, and even September; but this year the heat wave was coming early.

I had arrived home a little earlier than usual. I had transferred to days, 10:00 to 7:00, the year before in order to spend more time with my family, and especially Jasmine. And I did, with my girls. But it seemed that time with my wife had improved only slightly if at all. Jas was not happy with my late arrival this night. She was however dressed to kill! But, not for me; I had a bad feeling.

"Okay, AJ, why are you so late? I left you a message at your work that I had a dinner meeting tonight with the corporate bosses," she said. That explained the clothes—sort of.

"Jas, I have a job too. I took off earlier than I should have just so I could get here now; we were busy! Sheesh! It's only 6:00PM. It's like you were never late, or had to work, right," I said, firing back at her. "And what kind of meeting is it anyway? You're dressed like a street walker for gawd's sake. You dating one of those big shots you're always sucking up to?" I didn't really think she'd be dating anyone, but I knew it was one way to push her buttons. I was a little miffed by her attitude. It had been weeks since she and I had had a serious date, and she never dressed like this for me. Yeah, I was a little miffed.

"Achilles Jones, you've no business talking to me like that. If it weren't for my job we wouldn't be living in this semi-mansion of a house. I need to be able to count on you to be home when you're supposed to be," she said. "Anyway, I'm outta here. We'll talk later. Bye." And she was gone.

"...if it weren't for her..."! Like I had nothing to do with our life together or hopes or dreams. Miffed didn't even begin to cover it, I decided. Something had to give.

The house had cost half a mil and it was paid for—with her money. I had kept my old place and rented it out. It was paid for too, but it was just a very small three bedroom in a very ordinary subdivision. The new place—hers, at least that was how I was beginning to think of it—was so fancy I was embarrassed to say I lived in it. But, she'd insisted we buy it. Said it would boost her chances of making partner in her firm. The real estate firm she worked for was the biggest in the state, and Jasmine was one of their best sales reps.

She'd been having these meetings once or twice every month for the past year. I wasn't thrilled with her being gone so much at night, but she really hadn't given me any choice. She had made it clear that I had no say in what she did on her job.

This night, I sent the girls to bed around nine. They were set to start their summer recess on Friday five days hence. There was to be an academic awards ceremony on Thursday night for their middle school at the Grissom, a five star hostel in the city. The twins were slated to get one award I knew about, but others were possible. Secrecy was the watchword. No one was to know who was to receive what award. Both Jasmine and I had made plans to attend.

It was 2:00AM when she got in. I was sleeping, but I awakened when she accidently stubbed her toe on the chair near the little antique writing table she'd bought some months before. She swore, I turned over and said, "Morning, late meeting, huh?"

"Yes, we socialized after dinner. But, I'm tired and my feet are killing me," she said. "All I want to do is go to bed and sleep." Code for there would be no sex—Like I would have been in the mood at 2:00AM. The really bad news was that we hadn't more than a quickie in months, and I had become more than a little disturbed by that reality.

Anyway, her "all" actually wasn't quite all. She evidently wanted to shower too. She was back in the room and toweling down her hair in the shadowy light from the bathroom in twenty minutes.

"Had to get the cigarette smoke smell out of my hair," she said, when she noticed I was watching her.

I turned over and went to sleep as she slid in beside me. I hoped it was only cigarette smoke she was getting out.

******

Thursday came and I had the girls ready. We were waiting for Jasmine to arrive; we were already marginal time-wise. The phone rang. I picked it up.

"Hello...Yes, we're ready...how long...what!...another meeting?...never again call me out for being late for anything...!" I railed at her. "It's your daughters' big night...yeah yeah, I'll tell them; they're used it." I hung up.

"Was that mom," said Marie.

"Yes, honey, she's sorry; but she has a business meeting tonight. She promises to make it up to you both on the weekend," I lied saying that. She hadn't promised anything. In fact she was angry with me for challenging her. But hell, I was at the "fuck you" stage too. Things were coming to a head, and there did not appear to be anything I could do about it.

I had noticed the number on the caller ID readout on the phone. It was neither her cell nor her office number. I decided to ring her back and ask her to try and make it for the end of the awards if she could. I hit the redial.

"Century Motel..." I hung up. Now, I was pissed. I was pissed and hurt. I still wasn't sure anything untoward was going on, but I was pretty sure that her big bosses were not holding meetings in motels. I called the motel back one more time.

"Yes, how much are your rooms for one night?" I asked. "And, do you have any conference rooms?" I couldn't help but smile at the answers I got. Thirty-five a night motel rooms and no conference rooms. There was no meeting going on; she was fucking somebody else, and shining on her daughters' awards night in order to do it. I needed to get proof.