Our Love Saga

"What can I say?" I teased, "You inspire me."

"Believe me, I can certainly relate to that. You inspire me like no one ever has. Linda has got to be the biggest idiot in the world to let someone like you get away. You are a freaking love god!"

I laughed and Samantha asked, "Seriously, did she ever tell you why she cheated on you or give you any explanation for her actions with your finances and stuff?"

Meeting Samantha's eyes in the mirror I said, "Apparently, our next-door neighbors had been trying to convince Linda for months that no one who traveled as much as I did wasn't getting a little sex on the side. They kept filling her head with doubts of my fidelity and suspicions that I was leading a secret life while out of town. They upped their game when they introduced her to Cosmo Glover, who not only agreed with their opinion that I had to be cheating while on the road, he convinced Linda that I also had to have secret bank accounts where I was stashing money away that she couldn't get to. She knew that I had the private account for my expense reimbursements so it wasn't hard for him to get his ideas into her head."

"What would your next-door neighbors have to gain by convincing Linda that you were unfaithful and hiding money from her?"

"I haven't any idea," I assured her. "I hardly ever spoke with either of them."

~~~

We drove a few blocks from the hotel to the Polly's Pie restaurant for breakfast. After we were seated, I left Samantha to order our food while I ran across the street to the Seven-Eleven to buy the Saturday morning edition of the Orange County Register newspaper for her. When I handed it to Samantha, she quickly pulled out the section containing all the apartments for rent listings and left the remainder of the paper for me.

I wasn't interested in reading the paper, but I was curious about Samantha's sudden interest in apartments for rent. So I asked, "Aren't you being premature by looking for apartments now?"

"Don't you remember what I told you while we were at lunch on Monday?"

I laughed and said, "You'll have to be a little bit more specific. You told me a lot of things during our lunch on Monday."

"True, but focus on when I told you that the more time I spend with you, the more I want to be with you. Monday evening, I asked Jimmy to expedite the terms of our settlement. It has to be done before the six-month cooling-off period is over but nothing is saying that it can't all be done sooner rather than later. I signed the quitclaim deed for the house Tuesday. Jimmy then had it recorded on Wednesday and gave me my share of our savings. As soon as his second mortgage gets processed, I'll get my money from him for the house, but I can move out any time I want to now. I thought that today would be a good opportunity for us to check out the available apartments to decide where we want to live."

"You're expecting me to share an apartment with you?"

Samantha set the paper down on the table and just stared at me. She didn't say anything but just stared into my eyes with a disappointed expression as if questioning my sanity. She finally said, "I'm sorry if I was assuming ..."

"Could you live with a penniless, almost divorced man, whose wife left him destitute?"

"It wouldn't bother me as long as he truly and completely loved me. But, I have asked myself, why would I live with someone who is so damn ugly?"

After I finished laughing, I said, "I'm just surprised. It will have to be a very cheap apartment because you know that right now I don't have a lot of disposable income that I could contribute."

My salary, before bonuses, was eighty thousand dollars a year. After taxes, I netted around fifty-five hundred a month. Paying the mortgage for the house that Linda and my kids lived in, her car payment, and insurance took almost three thousand of that. Another two thousand was going to pay down the credit card debt that Linda had run up, utilities, and to buy groceries and other necessities for them. I was lucky if the five hundred left each month didn't end up going to support something for them as well.

Samantha took my hands in hers and said, "AJ, I need to live somewhere other than in the same house with my soon to be ex-husband. That means that I will have to pay rent whether you live with me or not. I'm not asking for you to contribute anything towards the rent or utilities. I'm asking you to share what I have to have anyway. Get it through your head, I need to be with you, and I am willing to pay whatever it takes to make that a reality. I know that you travel a lot, but having belongings of yours in the apartment with me and the anticipation of seeing you when you return will help me miss you less."

"Where were you thinking of looking," I asked as our food arrived.

Setting the section of the paper aside, Samantha said, "I think that if we could find something in Orange, maybe in the Old Towne section, it would be convenient for both of us. It would be a short drive to work for me down Chapman Avenue and you would have a choice of the Fifty-Five freeway or a variety of side streets for when you had to go into the office."

So that's where we looked. By noon, Samantha had decided on a small apartment complex on Batavia Avenue, near Saint Joseph Hospital. They had a two-bedroom ground floor unit that we put an application in on, and by two in the afternoon, Samantha had paid the deposits and we had the keys. By two-thirty, we had christened the carpet in the bedroom that Samantha selected to be our room.

"I'll make arrangements to get the utilities put in my name on Monday," Samantha said as we locked the front door on our way out. "Now, you can help me pick out our furniture. Let's go to that warehouse furniture place. They're going to have the largest selection of in-stock furniture. I want us to be settled here by next weekend, if not sooner."

~~~

We spent the rest of the afternoon picking out the living room and dining room furniture. I didn't contribute much to the decisions simply because Samantha's selections were perfect. I did sit on chairs and sofas to gauge their level of comfort, but she had a way of establishing a piece's comfort and quality just by looking at it. Samantha thought that we should leave the second bedroom for storage over the short-term since the apartment didn't come with a garage, and I thought that was a good idea.

Everything that we selected was in stock and available, so Samantha and I discussed our schedules for the next week to determine when one or both of us could be at the apartment to accept the delivery. I assured her that if the phone service could get turned on Monday, I would be able to work from the apartment any afternoon next week. We settled on Wednesday and Samantha finalized the transaction.

As we were leaving the warehouse, I asked, "I take it that you didn't find any bedroom furniture there that you liked. Where do you want to go to look for that?"

"I'm taking my bedroom set from the house. I was hoping that you would help me move it to the apartment Monday after work."

The thought of sharing a bed with Samantha that she had shared with Jimmy didn't thrill me, and Samantha must have sensed that.

"Jimmy and I never had sex on my bed," she said. "He never even slept in it because he didn't like it. I brought it with me from Albuquerque and it went into the spare bedroom."

I asked, "What's so special about the bed that you want to keep it and why didn't Jimmy like it?"

As we settled into her car she explained, "The bed is a water bed that I have converted into an air bed. Instead of water, the mattress gets inflated with air and it is like nothing else that you have ever slept on. Jimmy thought that it was too firm."

She flashed that lascivious smile at me again and said, "I've never had sex on it, but I am sure that we'll enjoy the extra little bounce it will give us."

Hell, I'd try anything with her.

We had an early dinner at the Market Broiler seafood restaurant, then Samantha wanted us to stop at a grocery store before returning to the Doubletree.

"I know that we just had seafood for dinner, but do you like tuna salad sandwiches," she asked me as we walked hand and hand into the store.

"Sure, as long as there isn't any egg in the mix, but why? You can't be hungry again already."

She removed her hand from mine and slid it into the back pocket of my pants. I put my arm around her waist and waited for her answer.

"I'm just preparing for tomorrow. Hunger drove us out of bed this morning and I want to make certain that it doesn't happen again tomorrow. I thought that we would have croissants for breakfast and tuna salad on croissants for lunch. The only thing that we might have to toss out when we leave is the mayonnaise, so we'll get the smallest container we can find."

I couldn't find any reason to object to Samantha's plans, so I kept my mouth closed, or tried to. While the aisles were clearly marked to indicate what items they contained, Samantha decided to wander the store and ask me what I thought of different brands or if there was anything that I didn't eat.

"I eat almost any meat that isn't derived from an organ," I told her. "You already know that I don't eat eggs, I don't like curry or peppers that are too hot, but those are about it. I'm not what I would classify as a meat and potatoes guy. I guess you could say that I prefer comfortable foods; things that aren't pretentious or overplayed. Oh, and I don't like any foods cooked with wine."

"You don't even drink wine, do you?" she asked.

I shook my head and said, "A little champagne as a toast or in a Mimosa is okay, but that's all the wine I will drink."

"Because of your mom?" she asked.

I nodded. I had told her of growing up with an alcoholic mother and how I frequently had to clean up her wine-infused vomit. To this day, even the smell of wine took my appetite away.

I had also shared my challenges living in foster homes after both of my parents had died, from the time I was twelve until I became an emancipated minor at the age of fifteen.

Spending some of my most formative years in Willowbrook, an area so bad that neither the city of Los Angeles nor the city of Compton would claim it. During some of the most racially charged periods in Southern California history, I survived as the lone white kid living between Watts and Compton.

Although it was unlikely that Samantha would ever meet any of my friends from back in those days, she did know that I maintained a close bond with some people that most would not want to meet in broad daylight, forget about the proverbial dark alley. We still had each other's backs.

"Well, lucky for you, I don't drink wine either and all I cook is comfortable food," she said. "You'll see starting next week."

On the drive back to the hotel, Samantha enlightened me further on how she expected things to go, "I'll call Mr. Allen tonight at his home and let him know that I am taking Monday as a moving day. Since we have to check out of the hotel tomorrow afternoon, I'll spend the night with you in your trailer and then go to the various utilities to get them put in my name as soon as possible..."

I interrupted her and said, "I was going to talk to you about that. Have you ever had any utilities in your name here in California?"

"No, Jimmy put them all in his name when we bought the house three years ago."

"Then the utility companies will probably require you to put down deposits to get new accounts established with them. If you're okay with it, I'll call the cable, electric, and phone companies tomorrow and put the services in my name. I have an account history with them already so they won't require a deposit from me. Also, having the phone service in my name would work to my benefit if I decide to work from home. I could expense any long distance calls that are work-related as long as the billing statement is in my name."

"What about the water?" Samantha asked.

"It's included in the rent, remember?"

"Oh, right. Will you have time to call the electric and phone company Monday morning? The cable isn't as urgent since we don't have a television yet."

"It shouldn't be a problem. I have three yearly employee reviews that I need to complete Monday morning to meet the deadline set by HR, but two of those will be done over the phone with my guys back east. I'll try to knock those out before eight and then I'll have an open two hours before I do the review with my guy in San Jose. I should be able to meet you at the apartment before noon."

Samantha thought for a minute and then said, "How about instead of meeting at the apartment, you meet me at the house. I'll get a rental truck picked up first thing Monday morning and take it to the house. I can start loading it with my clothes and the lighter stuff until you get there. Hopefully, the only thing that will be left by then will be the bedroom set."

"Logistically, it would be better, if, on the way to the house, you stopped and reserved a trailer for us at the U-Haul center on Tustin Avenue for Monday. I could pick it up on my way to the house and it would be more convenient to return it after we unload at the apartment. It would also be less expensive."

She reached over and stroked me through my pants, "I can do that, but just to make myself clear, I intend to christen our bed Monday night. Of course, that's if I don't screw you to death before then."

I thought that Samantha was joking, and while she wasn't really trying to kill me, she did everything imaginable to suck the soul right out of me through her lovemaking. I was beginning to think that there really were no limits where Samantha and sex were concerned.

She explained that her former boyfriend, Vic, had taken her to a couple of adult theaters while they were together and she had enjoyed the arousal that they gave her. When they had broken up, she would occasionally rent adult movies to watch by herself. Over the years, she had developed fantasies that she said she had never had an opportunity to explore. Her relationship with Jimmy didn't involve very much sex, and what there was left her mostly disappointed.

Among her fantasies was food sex. Not having sex with food items, but incorporating food items into the sex itself. Unbeknownst to me, she had purloined several of the small jelly preserve packages from our breakfast table. I have mentioned that I have never had an orgasm from oral sex, but I came very damn close when Samantha spent almost an hour spreading seedless blackberry preserves on me and then used her mouth to clean it all off.

I also got the pleasure of tasting blackberry preserves on her breasts. Samantha's breasts were firm, pert, and perfect little B-cup handfuls. However, her nipples were what truly set her breasts apart from any that I had ever seen. Typically, a woman with breasts the size of Samantha's would have little pencil eraser-sized nipples. Hers were like a pencil eraser as well, but it would have been one of those large primary school pencils that kids use in preschool or kindergarten. They were perpetually erect and hyper-sensitive. She didn't need a bra to support her breasts, she needed one to dim her 'high beams'. I had heard it was possible, but Samantha is the first woman that I had seen achieve an orgasm solely from having her nipples stimulated.

In the shower after our first food sex experience, Samantha shared with me a few of the other fantasies that she hoped we could explore together. Listening to all the things that Samantha wanted us to try together naturally had the effect of arousing us both, resulting in our next round of lovemaking being once more in the shower.

Before I met Linda, there had been a few times when I had sex with a girl three or four times in a single night. I remember how both of us would usually be too tired or sore afterward to have any interest in more for a while. Since early Friday evening, Samantha and I had made love at least a dozen times and I concluded that this was the difference from when I was younger. We made love rather than simply having sex.

From how Samantha had described some of her fantasies, I knew that the time would come when she and I would end up having more rigorous animalistic sex than we had done so far. Our focus had been on developing the intimacies, trust, and love that would make us both feel more secure and open in trying new things together. As we discovered together, Samantha and I could make love to each other dozens of times a day and still be ready for more.

Samantha claimed that whenever we made love, it felt as if part of me was trying to disappear inside of her, to become fused in some fashion to the love that she felt for me. I had sensed similar bonds resulting from our intimacies and realized how much our physical relationship embodied and emboldened our emotional relationship. We didn't need to be physically together all the time, but we both realized early on that there would always be a noticeable difference in our spirits whenever we were apart.

There was an almost natural balance of passion and comfort between us. During any intermissions in our lovemaking, our conversations varied between comfortable and stimulating. I appreciated Samantha's honesty about her experiences, as well as her fantasies and desires, and I could tell that this thrilled her.

"When I say that I consider you to be 'my guy', I don't only mean that we're exclusive," Samantha said softly with her head resting on my chest. "I mean that I take full responsibility for you and your happiness."

"I feel the same way about 'my girl'," I assured her.

"I know. That's is one of the things that makes you the guy that I want to be 'my guy'."

I chuckled and said, "I'll leave it at that before it gets too confusing."

"Your wisdom is another thing that makes you the guy..."

I tickled her to get her to stop. She bit lightly on my left nipple in response and then giggled. After a few seconds, she continued, "Anyway, as I was saying, I take responsibility for you and your happiness, but I won't spoil you or try to control you. I respect that we may want different things at times and what I believe is best for you may not always be a perspective shared by you. As long as your safety and well-being aren't in question, your happiness will always be a priority for me, as I already know mine is for you."

I was running my fingers through her hair. I sensed that something was motivating Samantha to have this discussion; that she wanted to do something for me, or wanted me to change something.

"What is it that you want to do that has you questioning whether or not I will agree to it?" I asked.

She raised to look me in the eyes and asked, "Do you like the way that I dress?"

I was surprised by her question, but then realized that she wasn't posing it out any insecurity on her part, she was genuinely interested in whether I liked the selection of clothes and what she wore at different times.

"I have always been very impressed with the way that you dress at all times. I think that I have mentioned that to you on several occasions."

"But that was before," she said. "This is now. We are together now, so I want you to have a say in how I dress if you want to. For example, I wear pantyhose because they are more convenient, but if you would prefer me to wear stockings, I would gladly do that for you."

I smiled and said, "That is an example of when you and I will have to compromise. Your comfort and convenience being a priority for me would lead me to say that you should continue to wear pantyhose. My happiness being a priority for you would lead you to choose stockings. I suggest that you continue wearing pantyhose professionally, but I would enjoy you wearing stockings when you and I are together and your attire at the time is appropriate."