Our Love Saga

When I wasn't admiring my wife, and sometimes, Dora in their bikinis, I was dabbling with ideas for the next great American novel and volunteering for several civic committees.

Keith was the maintenance manager for the resort company and saw no reason to retire as long as he enjoyed the work. Dora and Samantha spent hours together each week cooking together or shopping for ingredients for the next cooking session. I got a kick out of the fact that much of what Samantha cooked was shared with the cooks and bartenders at several of the restaurants that Samantha and I frequented. Samantha took pride and great joy in sending food to a restaurant that the staff praised over the same item that they had on their menu.

Waiting to cross Ocean Boulevard, I asked Samantha, "Only the one bucket this morning?"

After the sunrise, once it was light enough, Samantha and I would walk the beach searching for the seashell de jour. Depending upon the craft project that she and Dora were collaborating on, one day we might be looking for Moon Snails, and another day we might be looking for Letter Olives.

"I have a couple of plastic bags in the bucket if we need them," Samantha said. "We're going to be looking for some nice pieces of coral today. Dora thinks that we can use them to make some unique trivets."

We held hands as we walked across the dunes towards the surf line. I said, "I guess I could see coral working for trivets but it will be a challenge to achieve two flat sides, don't you think?"

"I thought the same thing," Samantha said, "but Dora has an idea where we could use clay as the base. The pieces of coral would be pressed into the soft clay base then something flat would be used to level them off before the entire piece was baked in a kiln. Anyway, our part of the project is to collect the coral and I'll let Dora worry about what to do with them after."

"What does she intend to do with the trivets once she makes them?"

"One of her neighbors has a table at the weekend craft fair in The Market Common that raises money for the homeless shelter," Samantha explained. "Dora wants to give the trivets to her neighbor to sell. I am going to be sending her some of my seashell wreaths as well."

We paused to watch the sun as it began to rise out of the Atlantic Ocean. There were just enough clouds to catch and reflect the colors of the sunrise to make the entire sky glow as if being on fire. Samantha handed me her bucket so that her hands would be free to take pictures of the sunrise with her cellphone.

Rain or shine, Samantha had captured at least one picture of the sunrise every morning since we had moved into our home. She had told me the first morning that she intended to keep a gallery of sunrise photos for us to treasure when the time came that we were no longer able to go out to view them in person any longer. We were both in excellent health for our ages, and we were in much better shape than people years younger than us, so hopefully it would be decades before we had to stop our morning tradition.

We typically walked north along the beach while waiting for the sunrise so that we would be facing the sun as it rose. After sunrise, we would turn and start walking south so that the growing light was at our backs, allowing us to see things on the sand better.

"When was Travis trying to come out?" Samantha asked.

Although I hadn't spoken to my daughter, Paige in more than twenty-five years, Bryce had remained in contact with me. He had discovered that he had fathered a baby when three days after the birth, the girl had shown up at his door and said, "Congratulations, you're a father. Here's your son. See you later."

I had helped Bryce verify paternity, and once that was confirmed, assisted him with getting sole custody of his son. That status lasted only a few months before Bryce begged Samantha and me to take the infant off his hands. For the next eighteen years, Travis was raised primarily by me and Samantha, with a few short stints with Bryce that never lasted more than a couple of months. Travis was now married and had a successful career with a promising future.

"He said that he and Toni are hoping to both get vacation time in June. What he doesn't know is whether they will come out here to visit or go to California to visit Linda and Paige. Since we were at their wedding last year but Linda and Paige missed it, they will probably choose to go see them."

"So Paige is still living with Linda?" Samantha asked.

"That's what I understand, but neither Bryce nor Travis are very forthcoming with information when they get it. I hear rumors that Paige moved back home after her divorce so that Linda could help take care of her sons while Paige worked."

Samantha shook her head in disbelief and said, "It's been more than thirty years. Cosmo passed away so he is no longer an influence on them. I can't understand Linda, and especially Paige remaining so bitter towards us. You have grandkids that you have never seen..."

"I don't even know their names, let alone their birthdays," I reminded her. "I can only assume that they don't even know that I exist."

"Well, it's not for a lack of effort on your part. We've sent Paige thousands of dollars in checks over the years and not one of them was ever cashed. Then there is how well Travis turned out. They have to recognize that it was your influence rather than Bryce's that made Travis the man he has become."

"Not necessarily," I said. "I haven't confronted either of them, but I would not be surprised if Travis hasn't been encouraged by Bryce to downplay our role in his upbringing. Bryce is still seeking favor from his mother, and he would not want to antagonize her by talking too much about us. I'm willing to bet that unless Linda or Paige asks about us, we are never mentioned by Bryce or Travis."

The beach was getting more populated with people, which was our indication that we had walked south to where the resorts started. We turned and headed north once again. When we reached the beach access at Forty-Sixth Avenue North, Samantha's bucket and one of the plastic bags were full of coral pieces.

~~~

Another morning tradition that Samantha and I had adopted since moving into our house was to shower together when we returned from the beach to rinse the sand and salt from our skin. While the shower wasn't entirely utilitarian, we usually did limit our amorous activities.

Dry and naked, Samantha would be propped up on our bed, iPad in hand when I joined her with the lotion that Samantha preferred for her feet. Sand between the toes can be therapeutic for the soul, but it can also wreak havoc on the soles of one's feet. As Samantha launched the iPad and searched for a story on Literotica, I would massage the lotion onto her feet.

Gone were the days of relying upon magazines for the stories that got Samantha going. She now had a virtually endless supply of erotica available to her online. By the time that she had found a story that interested her, I had finished with her feet and was ready to perform my husbandly duties.

Do you know how rewarding it can be to bring carnal pleasure to the sexiest sixty-year-old woman in the world? I'll just tell you that she keeps my medicine cabinet free of Viagra, Cialis, or Levitra.

Oh, and that tan line fetish only gets better with time.

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