The next few years went well. Thanks to Angel, I was in the best shape I’d been in since my 20’s. Under her oversight, which included presiding over my stretching and cardio program and what we ate at home, I’d lost weight and I was stronger and more mobile while officiating, which I thought funny because I was in pretty good shape when I met Angel. Being an attractive older man was one of the reasons she was attracted to me.  

We took Ma to the Chancellor’s Room for her birthday every year and something she never expected to happen once was now an annual event. It was plain she enjoyed every minute of it. 

Mr. Barrett, of course, was our waiter that first time and, also of course, was in his usual splendid form taking Ma’s hand and declaring it was plain where Angel got her beauty from, which made both of them cry. 

Angel had been a regular visitor to the Chancellor’s Room for several, many, years and she was now completely in her element, so I let her take command, from ordering wine to our main courses to dessert. 

“You created a monster. You know that, right?” she asked one time after Mr. Barrett left with our order. 

Yeah, I had to admit, I had. Angel had gone from scared fine dining novitiate to being completely in her element faster than I had thought she would. 

Angel’s editing business was pretty steady. Some advertising where writers hang out and some word of mouth produced steady work. It wasn’t as much as she was making at the bank, but it was enough and since editing can be done at home she could work when she wanted. 

———

Sunday dinner at Ma’s remained a tradition. Sometimes she made something else besides meatloaf, usually to please Angel, who didn’t share my deep love of meatloaf, but Ma really enjoyed making meatloaf for an appreciative audience, so we had that and Ma’s famous macaroni and cheese a lot. 

This routine, pleasantly, seldom changed. We’d get there in the early afternoon and sit in the kitchen and start in on a bottle or two of wine and usually Angel and Ma, as they have since our very first Sunday dinners, used this time to catch up. Sometimes if there was a professional game on TV and someone I knew was officiating it, which happened from time to time, I’d leave them alone and might go watch it, or I might not. I’d missed a lot of Sunday kitchen time in the bachelor decades, had a lot of catching up to do, and was loathe to miss any more Sunday kitchen time than I had to. 

After dinner, as usual, Angel would usually go nod off somewhere, sometimes her favorite living room chair or the bed in our room, leaving Ma and I to ourselves. 

Ma and I talked politics a lot on Sundays. It started during a presidential election, which was very close and contentious, and which Ma had a lot of opinions about. She was very conservative. She had to make a go of it her ownself, earning a living and raising Angel without any government handouts and saw no reason why anyone should be getting her money for staying home and sitting on their ass. I tended to agree that government should really just butt out and let us citizens rise and fall on our own. I disagreed with her assertion that we should just start shooting people on death row, and she saw no point in letting anyone other than men and women marry or in legalizing weed or any other drugs. 

Angel would listen to our discussions from time to time but seldom joined in. She didn’t really follow politics all that much.  

I was surprised to find out I had strong opinions on some matters. I’d always followed the news and enjoyed reading history and biographies, and I was a registered voter, of course, a member of a small third party, but I wondered where the hell all these policy opinions came from. 

———

We went back for an extended stay in the small town where I grew up. Among other things, we had dinner at Danny Taylor’s house and I am pleased to report Angel and Mrs. Danny Taylor, who recall was my prom date, got along famously, though Troy, Danny’s gay, assistant pastor son, who was more or less Angel’s age, thought it was “gross” someone his dad’s age would marry any girl in general much less one half his age specifically. 

We only stayed a week. That was about three days more than Angel preferred, but Ma was with us and she teamed with Auntie Marsha, of course, to keep the entire town on their toes. Ma stayed with Marsha and they slept till noon and drank coffee until late afternoon when they finally got around to considering how they were going to spend their day. Usually, they had dinner at our house or at the diner, though one night Ma taught Marsha how to make her famous macaroni and cheese, which I think depressed Marsha because she didn’t really have anyone to make it for, though Ma pointed out it kept for a week. 

It was, I suppose, inevitable, that a Bingo session coincided with our visit. 

A complete battalion of women, commanded by Auntie Marsha along with Angel, Ma and Danny’s wife Susie, headed out for the diner followed by a night of Bingo at the VFW. Danny and I had no interest in going so we passed a rather pleasant evening at his house. Danny has even fewer cooking skills than I did, so we had a pizza sent over from the diner.  

The good part about Danny is he doesn’t require non-stop conversation, which I am unable to provide anyway. We figured the town had enough to deal with, with the invasion of the girl’s expeditionary force and all, so we sat in his living room and watched the ballgame. His house was large, single-story, still furnished straight out of the ’70s, except for the kitchen, which he had graciously let Susie keep as modern as she wanted. 

“You know anybody umpiring this game?” Danny asked. 

“Yeah. I worked in the minors with the guy at second base.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. There’s a couple of more still in the big leagues. That’s about it though.” 

“You don’t give the impression you lose any sleep over not making it.”

I shrugged. I tend not to make noise when I shrug and Danny was watching the game, so he didn’t see me shrug. 

“I mean, some here took it pretty tough when you got cut. “

I laughed. 

“Yeah, I remember. It was like I was a player or something.”

“I thought my dad was going to hemorrhage.”

I remembered that. Danny’s dad was a big sports fan and reportedly sulked for weeks after I’d been cut. He took it harder than my own dad did. 

“I got the news by phone,” I told Danny for the 933rd time. “I was over it before I hung up. I was surprised at how easy I took it. A shrug and smile at the good memories and that was it. Cue the next chapter.” 

“You were always like that. Low key. I remember seeing you in the minors in Texas that one week…”

Danny let the sentence hang for a bit. He was about to get married and Susie dispatched him to spend a week on the road with me, one last bachelor session. 

“Damn, that was a hell of a week…”

“For you! I was still working my way up. I had to behave myself.” 

“Anyway, you had, what it’s called, a what…”

“Banger. We call close plays bangers.”

“Yeah, a banger. The manager came out and really gave it to you. You had to, what…”

“Run…”

“Yeah, run him. You never lost your cool..”

“How much does your buddy working tonight make?”

“I don’t know for sure. With his experience, probably about $300,000.”

Danny whistled. 

“Yeah, well,” I said brilliantly. “How much money do you need?”

“You’re asking this of a banker?”

I laughed. 

An inning or two passed and I told Danny I was certain he knew some people, too. He’d been a banker a long time. 

“Well, maybe some people in the government. SEC, Treasury. Boring financial suits.”

“Well, there you go. You know people.” 

“Yeah, I suppose. A couple have been on TV, too. Of course, they were denying charges…”

“See and you thought you were a nobody. You know alleged criminals!”

Danny laughed. Our team was rallying for a couple of runs to pull a bit closer. 

“You know, D, Officials on TV are no different than you. You’ve put the same work into your life that they’ve put into theirs. You saw what you wanted – a good life here – and you worked until you had it. 

“Never thought of it like that.” 

“You gotta bloom where you are planted. Or, in your case, where you chose to plant yourself. We’ve both done that.” 

“Yeah. At least we’re not looking back on what might’ve been.” 

A few minutes later Danny changed the subject. 

“I heard you and your mother-in-law talking politics.” 

“Yeah. Stuff like that interests her. Me too, frankly.” 

“You should run for office. You’re nice, you’re a good listener. You’re married to a child. You’d get votes.” 

I laughed and waved a hand, dismissing the idea. Me running for office. Imagine that. 

———

The game was long over and Danny and I were drinking some brandy when the First Female Expeditionary Squadron returned to headquarters fresh from evening bingo maneuvers. Ground transportation from the bingo theater was provided by the town’s Vehicular Constable Unit (Motorized), Officer Ike commanding. 

“Howdy there, boys,” Ike said, exiting the department’s Motorized Vehicular Unit. We had heard them drive up and Danny and I were standing on the porch, trying not to laugh. 

A side door opened and Angel came pouring out onto the driveway. Marsha tried to exit from the front passenger seat, but her feet seemed to have trouble finding the ground. Susie Taylor was still in the back seat, apparently passed out, though sometimes people’s heads in this situation fall to the side for other reasons. 

Ma was the only one able to successfully negotiate egress from the Motorized Vehicular Unit, but further movement beyond standing fast seemed to be beyond her ability. 

“Is the place still standing?” Danny asked, leaning on a porch frame. 

“Well,” Ike said, taking off his hat and scratching his head. “Pretty much.”

Danny and I laughed. 

“Better get your checkbook out, Danny.”

Danny shook his head solemnly. 

“My checkbook? Three-fourths of these misfits are associated with you.”

Ike walked towards us. 

“It was a pretty slow night,” he said. “So I headed over to see what was shaking at the VFW.” 

Ike paused to look and see if any of the Bingo Brigade needed assistance. None did. Yet. 

“It was pretty lively. Big crowd, with the ladies here holding court in one corner. Lotta hootin’ going on, but it was just folks being folks.”

“Nothing that demanded your professional attention?” I  asked. 

“Nah,” Ike said, nodding his head back at the car. “I figured some might need a courtesy ride home.”

Ike pushed his cowboy hat up a bit with an index finger. The ladies of the Bingo Expeditionary Squadron were still in various stages of making their approach to the house. Marsha’s feet had finally touched terra firma though she wasn’t quite standing yet, Angel had made it up from the ground and was looking around curiously, Susie was still sitting in the back seat, though she appeared to be awake, while Ma was actually on her way, slowly, to my car. 

“I was right, too. None of these fine ladies was OK to drive anywhere,” Ike said. “The last game, of course, was the blackout game – you have to fill the entire card – and when the lovely Mrs. Taylor won the last game, Marsha here called for an immediate federal investigation because, obviously, the games were rigged from here to high heaven.”

“Damn straight they were, kiddo!”

“And the ladies did nothing else to merit further official law enforcement attention?” Danny asked solemnly, which made both Ike and me laugh. 

“Naw, they’re all right. Just wanted to make sure everyone got home safely.”

Danny and I both herded the bingo gals where they should go. 

“You headed out tomorrow?’ Ike asked. Of course, he was just verifying, because thanks to Marsha everyone in town knew our complete schedule, including the anticipated hour of hour departure. 

“Yeah, we are, Ike. You going to keep the town in order till we return?”

“I think so. Mighty good seein’ you again.”

“Mighty good seeing you, too, Ike.”

“Good to see you settled down. You seem to’ve got yourself a good wife.”

Danny came by, too, and we said goodbye. 

“Now don’t you two get all mushy and stuff on me.”

“We won’t Ike, don’t worry,” Danny said. “They’ll be back.”

Angel and I headed out the following day. Ma, however, stayed with Marsha for another few days. Danny Taylor told me after my steadying, meaning dull, influence left the fun really started and Officer Ike spent no small amount of time providing further ground transportation in official city vehicles. 

Chapter 12: Angel
Chapter 13: The Captain – Part II
The Angel and The Captain Homepage

Dearest Readers,

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So dive in and I will take you where you’ve always wanted to go. You’ll love every page.

xoxoxo

Kaitlyn K

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The Benjamin Chronicles
Nat’s Story
The Angel and The Captain 
All The Things – Coming in 2021.

This is a test.

From the Danielle short story in The Benjamin Chronicles
A Novella by Kaitlyn K

Danielle pays Benjamin good money to fuck here.

---

   “How much?” he asked.
   Danielle was taken aback slightly. It was plain no one had ever offered her money in exchange for sex before.
   After a few seconds it was equally obvious she wasn’t rejecting the matter out of hand, either. She was obviously considering it.
   “A thousand dollars,” she said, as if she routinely issued quotes for access to her body.
   “All right.”
   The pair stood there for a couple of seconds.
   “You have a thousand dollars on you?” Danielle asked.
   Benjamin shook his head dismissively.
   “No, not me, silly. You. You pay me a thousand dollars.”
   “I pay you?” Danielle’s tone was incredulous.
   “Yeah. You can afford it, plus you’re the one who’s half-dressed and wearing six-inch heels.”
   They were standing between the bed and armoire. Benjamin reached out with an index finger and ran it from her chin, down her throat and between her large, firm tits. Then Benjamin took off his coat and started removing his tie.
   “What makes you think I pay for sex?”
   It runs in the family, that’s why.

Click here to buy The Benjamin Chronicles for $2.99

Stuff 2 Know
July 16, 2019

Notes from around our human experience, including Philosophy 101, On This Date and an excerpt from one of my books. 

PHILOSOPHY 101
Talent is nothing but long patience.
Gustave Flaubert

Flaubert was known as a writer who avoided cliches, preferring to take whatever time was necessary to find the exact word he was looking for. This didn’t always work and Flaubert is rumored to have never been completely satisfied with anything he wrote. Flaubert wrote from an early age and, knowing this was what he was about, he couldn’t be bothered with the cacophony that attends married and family life, with a biographer claiming he only had one serious romantic relationship, in his 20s and 30s with the poet Louise Colet, who was married at the time. That out of his system, he was free to pursue his life’s work. 

There are three elements to success: wisdom, courage and patience. We must have the wisdom to know the life we were meant to live and the courage to go and live that life, but all the wisdom and courage, not to mention talent, will not do us any good if we do not have the patience to see our journey through to the very end.

The work of being on our path simply does not stop: we must be on our path every day. Not some days and not others, not some weeks and not others, every day of every week of every year. It will not always be a bed of roses and there will be attainments – life’s great prize – and failures – life’s great lesson, and there will always be a dream to chase – life’s great challenge. 

Talent is nothing but long patience…

We must find what we are meant to do and do it. It doesn’t matter what this is, either. All that matters is that it comes from deep inside you, that you are answering to your heart instead of merely chasing the proverbial windmills offered by outside influences. When we do this, we are living the life we are meant to live. When we have the patience to do it every day – life’s great challenge – we will look back on a life well-lived. 

Flaubert wrote. The guy who fixes my car grew up wanting to be a mechanic, so that’s what he does. What do you do?

Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) was a French novelist

Running The Numbers
Our national debt as I write this is $22.499 trillion. and America has been at war for 10,802 consecutive days. Election Day 2020 is 477 days away. 

Great Moments In Nuclear War
The United States detonates History’s first nuclear device 73 years ago today, in 1945, at a test facility in central New Mexico. Code named Trinity, the explosion left a crater 5 feet deep and 30 feet wide and the sand turned into a light green, radioactive glass now known as trinitite. A government press release issued after the explosion (one of four that had been prepared weeks earlier) blamed the   to an ammunition magazine and pyrotechnics explosion. 

“All Engines Running…Lift Off, We Have A Lift Off…”
Our first attempt to fly to and land on another heavenly, Apollo 11, lifts off from Cape Kenndy in Florida on this date in 1969, 50 years ago today. The mission was manned by a civilian, Neil Armstrong, commander, and two US Air Force officers, Michael Collins, command module pilot, and Buzz Aldrin, lunar module pilot. After a twelve-minute trip to Earth’s orbit, Apollo 11 went around earth one-and-a-half times before heading to the moon

CHARTWATCH
#1 songs on this date in 1966:
Hot 100 – Hanky Panky…Tommy James and the Shondells (1st of two consecutive weeks)
Soul Chart – Ain’t Too Proud to Beg…The Temptations (4th of eight non-consecutive weeks)
Country Chart – Think of Me…Buck Owens (3rd of six weeks)
UK Singles Chart – Sunny Afternoon…The Kinks (2nd and final week)
Album Chart – What Now My love…Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass (8th of nine non-consecutive weeks)
– Chart data courtesy of Billboard (US) and Official Charts Company (UK).

TODAY’S KAITLYN BOOK EXCERPT
From the novella Nat’s Story.
In today’s episode, Beth, 53, prepares to seduce Nat, 18. 

Beth, 53, black hair, still trim and firm and beautiful, spotted Nat as soon as he and his shipmates had walked in the door. He was the tall one, with a body that Beth figured had been chiseled from granite instead of maturing through the normal growth process. Beth had sufficient experience to peg Nat’s height at six feet, two inches and his weight at 190. When Nat took his hat – called a cover in the Navy – off, she saw a nice shock of brown hair. She could not stop staring at him from her seat a booth with some co-workers and she figured his cock had to be at least three feet long.
   Beth wanted the tall young man immediately. This wasn’t a bulletin because Beth often wanted tall, young men immediately.
   Beth was bored stiff on her business trip, tolerating dinner with some co-workers. It was the last night of the trip and Beth had not been laid in what seemed like forever and was refreshingly open to a romp in the hay with a younger man.
   Beth was not particularly worried that she was 53-years-old, a full 35 years older than the boy she had every intention of taking to bed. Experience had taught her that she radiated sexuality like a waterfall disperses water. Plus she still had her looks, too and she knew she didn’t look 53.
   Beth decided it was unlikely her tall young man would come over and introduce himself, and since she wanted him pretty bad she took action. After excusing herself she went to the ladies room. She took out a notebook and a pen and wrote on it in a feminine hand that itself oozed sensuality. 

I will be in the bar next door after dinner. If you can get away from your buddies I would like to buy you a drink – Beth

   After exiting the bathroom, Beth found their waiter.
   “Those sailors over there,” she said. She nodded in their direction. Discreetly, the waiter glanced over his shoulder in their general direction, even though they were the only sailors in the restaurant and Beth could not possibly have been referring to anybody else.
   “I am feeling very patriotic tonight. I would like to buy the sailors their dinner.”
   “An excellent idea, madam. However someone has already beaten you to it. Their bill is taken care of.”
   Beth sighed peevishly. However, she was a senior vice president of something or another for medium-sized company and she hadn’t reached that position because she couldn’t think on her feet.
   “Then I want to buy them a round of drinks…”
   Beth wasn’t entirely sure any of the sailors was 21, but the restaurant had been pouring booze down them all night and hadn’t seemed to care.
   The waiter nodded with approval.
   “A splendid idea, madam.”
   “Thank you,” Beth said. She gave the waiter the note and a $20 bill. “And give the tall one this.”
   The waiter took the note casually, as if he accepted scraps of paper from older women summoning young, freshly minted sailors as a matter of course.
   “Of course.” 

Click here to read more from Nat’s Story.

Friends, this feature will be taking a couple of days off and will return Monday morning.

Thank you,
Kaitlyn