The Wrong Pen Pal

We lay there on her bed touching, caressing, and kissing for a bit before Yvette took me back in hand and started a slow pump. I reached for my wallet and removed the condom, which she rolled down me with exquisite care.

Lying back, she opened her legs as she took me in hand and steered me into her tunnel. Yvette was ready so in just a few motions I was inside her, filling her.

"Are you okay, Yvette?"

She smiled at me. "Never better, mon amour. Now, make love to me, Brian. I want you."

It was slow and steady as I pumped her, with Yvette circling her hips in time with me so we both felt everything possible. She raked her nails, short due to her artwork, across my back and kissed me. As our thrusts slowly got stronger and a bit faster, she was kissing my shoulder, my collar bone, and my neck through her soft moans but as we started getting close to target, it became more intense with Yvette moaning louder and arching her body as she contorted her face fighting for a few more seconds with me.

"I'm almost there," I grunted in reply, trying to last until she was ready. Those few seconds later, I could see her go as she moaned and collapsed and my release flooded over me, filling the condom with blast after blast until we were both spent.

As we lay in bed feeling wonderful after quick trips to the bathroom, I turned to her and looked into her eyes. "Yvette, I know this is sudden, but I mean it--"

"Shhh! Don't ruin it, Brian. Please, don't ruin it. This was...was so lovely, and it's how I want to remember our time together. Saying words? No, don't, since words between us are nonsense; the miles between us make it so, make us wrong for each other like you always said. What's right is that I will be here when you return to Paris--if you return and if you are still on your own and Miss Right hasn't scooped you up. Until then, Brian, remember and tell yourself, we'll always have our letters between us, many, many more letters to come, joy and happiness and sadness sometimes, too, but like Rick and Ilsa, we'll always have Paris, Brian. Remember, we'll always have our time together in Paris. Now, shhhh. Sleep, for we rise early tomorrow for you to catch your plane."

We lay together in her bed that evening, holding each other for what we knew would be the last time, but sleep didn't come easy for either of us despite our state. It finally overcame our heartache though, and we rested.

When we awoke the next morning, Yvette shushed me again when I tried to bring it up once more, before driving me to the airport. She hugged me in the car when she dropped me off, but there was no kiss.

"Go, safely, Brian. Au revoir."

Then she pulled away, merging into the traffic, and, with tears in my eyes, I lost sight of her.

***

And thus ended my sad story with Yvette, leaving me disappointed and my heart aching more than I would have ever guessed possible.

At least that would have been the case if Staci hadn't loved me so much to leave me independently wealthy. I thought the whole way home, about all that had happened in the last 18 or 19 months, and I slowly came to realize that though I'd sometimes teased her about being my wrong pen pal, the only true happiness I'd felt in all of that time had been my time with Yvette in Paris and that she was right for me. She was my Miss Right. Now, we were both quite miserable after having had a taste of what we might have together.

The idea was born over the Atlantic and then coalesced into a plan over the next several hours as we approached the coast and then flew over the eastern United States. Still, I debated it for a while until I finally forced myself to say the words I'd been thinking for much of the flight.

"There's no reason our tale has to end. I've got the money. Why not use it to make us happy? To write a new 'right' chapter in our lives?"

***

I asked the boys and Ross and Erica to join me for dinner the following weekend so I could talk to them about my idea. I kept dinner simple, with lasagna, salad, and breadsticks; Erica promised to bring dessert.

It was still a few minutes before I was expecting them when my doorbell rang. "Kevin, can you get that, please?" I called.

When there was no response and the bell rang again, I took off my oven mitt and went to the door. Instead of Kyle or Ross and Erica, I was shocked to see Etta Wicklow for the first time in many months.

"Etta, what are you doing here?" I asked in surprise.

Considering how I'd once been attracted to her in spite of myself, thoughts of how I could send her away raced through my mind. Nothing--well, nothing significant--had ever happened between us, but if Ross were to spot her here on an unannounced casual visit, he'd be able to put it together and I'd never hear the end of it. While we were like brothers, that's what brothers tend to do.

"Ah...this really isn't a good time--"

"Hi, Dad, are you going to let us in or not?" asked Kyle, coming up behind her. "Dad, you know Etta, my girlfriend," he added with a grin.

I looked at him and was speechless and then back to her, so Etta smiled at me and gave me a light kiss on my cheek. She patted it then and whispered, "Hi, Dad," which shocked me as much as the diamond on her ring finger that she flashed in front of me. My elder son had apparently understated their relationship a little.

Ross and Erica were pulling up then so I didn't have time to ask questions. Kyle and Etta headed into the kitchen with the wine they'd brought while I tried to get control of myself to greet my in-laws.

We made introductions in the kitchen and then Kyle announced their engagement to the family, though Erica, I noted, had already spotted the ring during the introductions. In addition, Kevin and Etta had embraced and chatted like old friends, making me wonder how long he'd known of their relationship. It didn't matter, I knew; I poured everyone a glass of wine and we toasted the young couple and their future happiness together.

"So how'd you guys meet?" asked Erica when we were seated at the dinner table.

"It was right after Mom died," replied Kyle. "I was about as low as I'd ever been when Etta came over with some paperwork for Dad. We talked for a while before I sent her upstairs to see him."

"He was so sweet--and so young, too--"

"Hey! I'm not that much younger. Well, two years and three months."

"And five days." She giggled. "But that's not so much when the feeling's right. The next time my father had more legal paperwork for Brian, I volunteered to take it so I could see Kyle again. We talked for a long time before he took me in to see Brian, and then he asked for my number when I came back in. Due to COVID, we started doing virtual dating a few nights later and ended up doing the real thing a short time after that. Ever been on a date with a mask on? Anytime my dad had anything else for Kyle's dad, we'd arrange for me to drop it off so we could see each other in person again."

They laughed at their little conspiracy, while I, so happy for them, felt about as stupid as I ever had, thinking all along that she'd been doing it for me rather than being naturally flirty and doing it all for him.

"What are your plans?" I asked.

"I've finished law school now--"

"And she's passed the Bar exam," said Kyle proudly.

"--so I'm working as a real attorney with my father's firm. They're one of the best firms in the city so when Kyle is matched for his residency in a little over two years, I should be able to get a job wherever he goes."

I was very happy for them, but echoes of Wendy Fuller were going through my mind. Surely Etta wouldn't be like that, but then again, I hadn't thought Wendy would be either. Therefore I approached Kyle privately a little later in the evening and asked what they were going to do for money.

"Dad, Etta's employed, making good money. Mom's education fund combined with what's left of what you guys had saved for me has left me in great shape, able to afford to live reasonably well, so between the two of us, we'll do okay. Oh, and you know Wendell Cranmore?"

"The oil guy? He died a couple of years ago, didn't he?"

"Something like that," agreed Kyle. "He was Etta's maternal grandfather and he left her a trust fund that's bigger than big. She's invested most of it to let it grow so there will, hopefully, be something for us and for our children someday, too, but she has a good emergency fund that should last us a year or more."

That relieved my mind and I was quite happy for them when Etta asked to speak privately with me while we were clearing the table after dinner. We went to my office where she whispered, "Brian, you're not mad at me are you? You really are my type--except for being 25 years too old for me, of course--but I was really seeing how Kyle would be when we were your age. Oh, I have two years on him--"

"And three months and how many days?"

She smiled. "Whatever. Getting a hunk like him who might turn out like a hunk like you..." She kissed my cheek again. "Well, if so, I'll be really happy about it. Oh, and you're going to make a really good grandpa."

My eyes widened. "You're going to have a baby?" I gasped, wondering why they hadn't announced it earlier.

"Yes!" she giggled. "But not now, silly. Someday." She winked at me and gave me a hug before we returned to the living room where she went over to Kyle. He slid his arms around her and held her close, reminding me of myself holding Staci back in the day. As my heart rate slowed to something approximating normal, I was really happy for them...and quite relieved that I'd never done anything stupid, either in person with her or alone afterward.

We all sat down then with our drinks and I talked to them all about why they were there...

***

There were more discussions over the weeks that followed, with my firm, with my investment advisor, and with Hiram Wicklow as I worked out the legal arrangements. Most of all, though, were the discussions with Yvette.

We'd reverted to writing, often long rambling pieces expressing our feelings without revealing our innermost desires. At least that's what I was doing, and having had over fourty years experience reading Yvette's writings, I was pretty sure she was doing the same.

Then one day I asked to speak with her about an upcoming assignment, so we arranged a call for the next day.

"Yvette, my company is sending me on an assignment to Paris. It's a little open-ended at the moment, but I was wondering...."

"Yes, Brian, stay with me."

"So your guest room is open?"

"If you wish...but it doesn't have to be."

I was smiling as we ended the call, wondering if she was being her usual playful self or if, perhaps, she was being serious.

Tickets were next on my list. I purchased a ticket with a one month return date, knowing that if Yvette didn't want me to stay--or perhaps if she wanted me to stay longer?--I could pay the change fee and return home when I wished.

After all, it was money, but it was only money, and I was going to use it to our advantage.

***

Yvette met me at Charles de Gaulle Airport and didn't seem to want to let me go, though maybe that was me, since I know I didn't want our hug to end. While she drove me back to her apartment in the 6th arrondissement on the left bank of the Seine, I tried to enjoy the sights though I was actually enjoying the sight of her much more.

"You packed heavy. How long are you staying?"

"As long as you'll have me?"

She smiled, though I was sure she thought I was teasing.

We had a great day together, but by that evening, I felt bad, knowing that I had to tell Yvette the truth.

"Can we sit down and talk, mon chéri?"

She laughed at my poor accent, and repeated the word correctly for me. "If you'll avoid using French words, my love, we can sit."

"That could be a problem," I said with a sigh, "particularly since I want you to help teach me French."

She giggled. "You plan to be here longer than I expected."

Nodding, I replied, "Yes, much longer. I love you, Yvette; you're my Miss Right. I think we're right for each other, and I want to be with you always. Yvette, will you marry me?"

Her mouth fell open as I pulled out the ring and knelt before her.

"Brian! No!" she said, taking my hand and pulling me up on the sofa beside her. "I do love you and I would love to marry you, but the arrangement part! We've talked about this and we both know, however right we are for each other, it won't work, not forever anyway, and if I marry you I'd want it to be forever. You can't have two people living so far apart so much of the time and expect either to be happy for very long. You're going to finish your assignment here and have to go home--"

"Mon chéri," I said again, improving the accent a bit, "wherever you are is my home. My assignment is open-ended here; I'll be working remotely just like through much of COVID. I'll have to go back to the main office occasionally, of course, but when I do, you can come with me, for a few days, a few weeks, or as long as you'd like, and then come back to our home here when you wish."

"Brian, no, don't tease me. I get by here with the sales in my art gallery, but I don't make that much money. Pierre and I were quite comfortable with both of our incomes before he started...in with his personal assistant. I can't afford to fly back and forth across the Atlantic on a whim." She looked upset, and not just because she'd been reminded of her ex-husband's sexual indiscretions.

"Yvette, listen to me, sweetheart. I have money; I never expected it but my Staci loved me so much that she left me independently wealthy. I work because I want to do it, not because I have to put food on the table or a shelter over the heads of those I love. I'm not one to waste money, believe me, but we can travel back and forth several times a year if we wish and it's not going to make a serious dent in the accounts."

She studied my face and knew I was telling her the truth. "Seriously? Not a dent? Not even First Class?" she added with a grin.

I laughed heartily at her jest; she'd heard that part of Wendy's tale without knowing the part about my finances until now.

"Okay, maybe that would put a dent if we did it enough; how about if we go First Class just on special occasions and see how it goes? Seriously, it will be like we're one of those rich people who have homes in two places, and we can go back and forth at will."

She nodded slowly before smiling again. "They buy art in America, too, right?"

I laughed, thinking she was teasing me. "What do you mean? We're not the uncouth hicks you stuffy Europeans sometimes believe," I teased back. "Of course we buy art. Stores sell all kinds of art stuff in America; you know, finger paints, body paints, popsicle sticks, glitter. And glue! Lots of types of glue!"

She giggled, her eyes turning misty with happiness. "You know, you Americans with your silly ways. I just wanted to be sure if, say, I were to set up a gallery in your city that people would come to see and might actually buy something occasionally instead of just gawking at the silly Frenchwoman."

"Ahh, they might be gawking but it would be at the beautiful Frenchwoman," I said with a smile. "She would probably attract quite a few admirers, in fact, but seriously, your idea is brilliant, Yvette. You could advertise your gallery as being from Paris, do some of your paintings in the U.S. while you're there, not have to pay customs to bring work in, and even hold open houses with the artist, that same beautiful Frenchwoman."

She leaned against me and laughed as I put my arms around her before looking up at me. "Overhead and staff, Brian. We'd have to see if it would be worthwhile economically, but it might work and might allow us to be together."

"So, back to the original question. Is this a yes?"

"Brian, we've grown close with our writings, our messages, and our calls over the past year and more, so I tell you, you don't know how hard it was to see you with the tart when you can here in September."

"I'm so sorry, Yvette, I didn't realize."

"Shhhh. I loved you then, Brian, and it hurt every minute to see you with her when I knew she wasn't your Miss Right, but I couldn't say anything without driving you closer to her. I love you now, too, mon amour, I love you still, and I love you even more. I want to be more than your right pen pal, I want to be your right lover, your right everything, forever. I want it to work between us, together...so oui, yes, yes, Brian, if we can be together as you say, I will marry you, my love, and you will make me the happiest woman in the world."

I stood up and drew her up into my arms where we kissed, a kiss of love for each other, a kiss of relief that we had survived so many trials reaching that point, and a kiss of hope for our future and for what was to come.

When we finally broke our kiss, looking at each other with eyes of love, she took my hand and led me to her bedroom--our bedroom--to begin our new life together.

***

Epilogue

In the end, being independently wealthy created the possibility of problems with people like Wendy Fuller, who would do what it took to relieve me of my cash, but it also opened up many new opportunities that we'd never before dreamed of when two people are so right for each other.

We split our time between our two countries, with Yvette trying to teach me French and me teaching her a little Spanish and showing her the vastness and incredible diversity of our country. That's been mostly in pictures so far, but we have a number of vacations planned for the coming months and years to let her see as much as we can.

Yvette did some checking and decided not to open her own gallery in the U.S.; she rented space in an established gallery in the city instead and let the gallery management do what they do best, displaying and selling her art and taking a cut of her sales. Since it allowed them to claim association with her gallery in Paris, it was good advertising for them and since she agreed to do occasional appearances, they gave her a break on their commission due to the corresponding increase in sales.

Ready to move forward and make it work, we married in a small ceremony in early March 2022, with plans to go from home to home a few times a year, and to make special trips to the States or back to France as needed for things like Kyle and Etta's wedding later in the year.

Speaking of the kids, we're planning to give them a very nice wedding gift but are adding a honeymoon gift, too: an all-expense-paid trip to Paris, complete with First Class plane tickets--Yvette insisted--plus tickets to a number of major attractions in the city and two weeks in the comfort of our apartment rather than be stuck in a tiny room in a hotel.

Or, if they spend the first week or two doing what we expect they'll be doing and need more time for seeing the sights, maybe we'll make it a month.

The End

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Follow-up Note:

Many thanks to blackrandl1958 for inviting me to be part of her "Money Honey" event
, the premise of which is that a character comes into a large amount of money and has to handle that and the interest of potential lovers, whether good or bad.

Finally, thank you to all who read this story for your time, attention, votes, and feedback, in whatever form. That is greatly appreciated.