We're back at work, trying to catch up. I was hoping to relax this past weekend, but after both of us being ill, I spent Saturday at work - for about 12 hours - and Sunday cleaning up and grocery shopping.

And of course, this week I'll be working a little extra to be sure to clear Thanksgiving weekend... but I'm determined to leave next weekend clear. If I don't get some rest soon I'll be coming down sick again.

Mary didn't get sick after all, and we're pretty much at full attendance at work, so I guess the flu shots worked. For those who got them in time :-) And speaking of Mary... she told me that ran the idea of buying my Miata by her boyfriend, and it led to a vicious argument. It isn't the kind of vehicle he would want, and (reading between the lines) he doesn't trust her motivation. In which he's probably right, especially as she said she thinks the end is close for their relationship.

So she isn't decided one way or the other, and I think I'm going to withdraw the offer. This fall has had so many perfect days for driving a convertible... I think in spite of the logistical problems I'll be keeping the car for another year or two. It's just so much fun.

Although I haven't had much time to relax, I have finally sketched out an idea for a new story. I haven't started working on it yet, though... maybe if I do get some time this weekend. If not, there's always a four-day weekend right afterwards :-)

 

In the first story I wrote, The Trade Show, I alluded to a piece of classical music, the Bruch Violin Concerto. As you could probably guess from the writing, it's one of my favorite pieces of music of any kind.

I admit to a little poetic license there. Not in how beautiful or sensuous a piece it is, but in the likelihood of it being the centerpiece of a major orchestral concert. I would be surprised if of the tens - hundreds, now, perhaps - of thousands of readers of that story more than a handful have ever heard of it, and it wouldn't surprise me at all of none of them had listened to it.

I was introduced to classical music by... ah, well, let me just say "there was this guy..." :-) Our relationship lasted long enough for him to introduce me to Max Bruch's violin concerto, and my love of classical music stayed with me.

I mention this because I've been listening to classical music again recently. I tend to listen to a particular kind of music for a while, and since I haven't "converted" Brian yet, and we usually travel in his vehicle, I've been listening to his "alternative" CDs. Until he got sick, and I wanted a change while I was driving his car.

I decided that my classical selection is too small, and I went to our local mega-super-books-and-music store and left with some Tchaikovsky - and some Prokofiev, which is an experiment. Sometimes I pick music I don't particularly like, and force myself to listen to it for a while. Occasionally I don't grow to like it, but usually it opens up another area of interest for me. And often the music that I don't like initially becomes a favorite.

So far, the Prokofiev hasn't crossed that boundary for me, but I'm beginning to think that it will.

I feel a little strange talking about classical music. I avoid the subject with friends, except Brian, to an extent, because it seems that everyone expects a classical music fan to be a snob. Certainly the local classical station caters to that view. The ads, especially, are aimed so blatantly at people who think they're better than the rest. It's nauseating. And the music tends to be so very predictable...

But I hope by now that you don't see me as snobbish. I don't think liking classical music makes me better than anyone else. I think it's perfectly okay not to like classical, or anything else.

But if you want to hear the music that turned Elaine on, seek out a CD of Max Bruch's Violin Concerto, and listen to it with eyes closed and mind open.

And somewhere along the way, while buying my CDs, I got an idea for another story...

 

I changed my upload procedures a couple of weeks ago. I upload my diary to a temporary web site, then when I know it worked okay, I upload it from the temporary site to my permanent site. That allows me to experiment without affecting the real site, and keeps a backup for me. It also allows me to check my work, to try to avoid some of the mistakes I've made recently.

Unfortunately, it means that most of the time I've been delaying the second phase, transferring the temporary site to the final location. So I'm afraid my journal entries have been delayed lately. Sorry :-(

Brian helped me in the yard yesterday. Mainly raking leaves and pruning roses, pulling a few of the more tenacious weeds.

While we were working, the elderly man next-door came over and asked if we could help his wife and him dig a hole. Brian agreed, and we headed to his yard.

Well, we'd thought that we were planting a tree for them or something, but it turns out their dog had died. He was a standard poodle, and had been very much part of their family.

So we dug while our neighbors watched, and when finally we laid the old boy in the hole, the wife's eyes were wet.

We were pretty subdued the rest of the day. Somehow I felt I could see Brian and me in them. I hope we're not dependent on a dog for companionship when we get to their age.

I should try to spend some time with them.

 

(Thanksgiving day)

We arrived out here in the middle of nowhere late last night, after a few false turns. The house is small, but comfortable. Two bedroom, one living area, two bathrooms, one with a huge whirlpool tub. It's on about five acres, some wooded, some grass, and a nice little catfish pond.

It's cold. It has been since a front blew through on Monday night, accompanied by some spectacular thunderstorms and rain that we really need. I don't know whether we'll be able to make use of the hot tub; even though it's inside it's in an extension to the house which isn't as well heated.

This morning, Brian asked Clarice who the owner was. "Just a friend," she said, but she colored instantly.

"Clarice," I said, "you said he was in his sixties!"

"He is," she said, "and in very good health."

Rob looked at the ceiling. "I don't think I want to hear any more," he said.

"Good idea," she muttered, but she was smiling.

Now she's bugging me to help with dinner preparations. I'll have to write more about this place. It's fun.

 

Yesterday we had a relaxing Thanksgiving. Clarice and I cooked, while Brian and Rob tried to coax some of the catfish onto hooks. We were more successful than the men, who only managed to catch small bluegills.

It felt odd being with Rob for Thanksgiving, and not being at my mother's. Not that I've spent Thanksgiving there in at least five years, but then Rob hasn't been around, either.

I found myself telling him about my problems with her, which I hadn't been intending to do, but he was very sympathetic. He's had similar problems. Apparently she was a constant source of tension between Pam and him, after she gave Pam an earful on a couple of occasions. He was never able to convince Pam that she wasn't basing her meanness on things she had heard from Rob.

As much as it's disappointing to think how she helped to destroy his marriage, it made me feel a little better about my own situation. That she didn't single me out for her spite. The poor woman, having to hurt her kids to feed her ego.

After dinner we watched the Cowboys' Thanksgiving game against the Dolphins. It was almost halftime (still 0-0) when we joined the game, and I made the guy wash up before the second half. I would usually be the most indifferent when the Cowboys won (20-0), but the enthusiasm of the others was infectious. Aided by snuggling in Brian's arm, of course.

As cold as it has been the past few days, we built a fire after the game and relaxed for a time, then played poker. Rob must have been led astray after leaving home, he seems unbeatable. Clarice did okay, and I think I won the two lowest pots of the night.

"It's because you're so cold," I grumbled to Rob. When Clarice and he looked at me, puzzled, I explained, "I can't tell when you're bluffing, I think you're both totally lacking emotion."

The look that they gave each other would have proved me wrong, if I didn't already know better :-)

We turned in early. It was cold in our room, so Brian and I climbed into bed to kiss and undress each other. We made a mess of the bedclothes, but we had every intention of doing that anyway :-) We were about at the underwear stage, Brian being (as usual, and with my full and unequivocal approval) distracted by my breasts, when the sounds from the next-door bedroom intruded into our play. The creaking gave way to Clarice's moaning, which seemed to last for minutes, growing in intensity without getting very loud. Sometimes I could hear her voice mutter something between her cries, and occasionally Rob's deep tones answering. Since that first furious passion at my house, they've obviously been practicing drawing out their pleasure.

The noises aroused me, but even more obviously they were turning Brian on. His breathing was heavy, and when I ran my thumbnail along his shaft, he was as hard as stone, his underwear stretched tight.

"Are you regretting what you missed?" I asked him.

"What I missed?"

"With Clarice."

"Oh." He paused for a moment. "Maybe, a little. Not regret, though, more... just wondering. And maybe hoping that I can make you feel as good as she obviously does."

Clarice's moans had finally turned into a breathy, panting sound, then suddenly turned into a drawn-out quavering "Ohh!". The pace of the creaking noises didn't slow as she continued to groan, punctuated with passionate-sounding murmurs.

"You do," I said.

Then I pried off his underwear and buried my face under the sheets to try to demonstrate how good he makes me feel.

We didn't get out of bed until after ten this morning. We were... umm... busy. Even so, we didn't see Rob or Clarice for another hour, though we heard occasional evidence that they were awake...

It's strange how self-conscious men can be about sex. When Clarice and I were trading insults about creaky beds and thin walls, the guys wouldn't meet our eyes and tried to change the subject. Finally Clarice told them to go make a dent in the population of the catfish pond, so that we could compare notes.

We didn't, of course, though they did go fishing. While they were gone we figured we could warm the extension room up enough to use the indoor spa, so we did. It was warm enough outside that the space heater took the chill off the room in the time it took the water to warm, and we made ourselves comfortable with some sparkling white wine. (We brought enough booze for the weekend, not just for Thanksgiving day :-)

Clarice told me she really needed this break. I thought at first she meant that she was having problems with Rob again, but it's her work. This is a critical time of the year. She has been selling to toy companies throughout the year. Now, if the lines she has licensed bomb, her company stands to lose heavily - or at least, not to reap a significant part of the Christmas windfall. Since she has only limited editorial control over the advertising of the manufacturing companies, she doesn't really have any way to make the lines successful, but her group will be held responsible of the promotions fail. All she can do is negotiate different contracts next year...

Of course, even if she had control, there's no good way to predict what kids are going to go crazy about, and there's a question about how much of the market is going to be left after Pokemon, which threaten to be the biggest toy/game sales figures ever.

So this is a particularly stressful time, worse even than the toy fairs, which at least have a fun component.

Rob, she said, is helping her stay sane. But she sounded anxious when she said it.

"So, how have things been between you?" I asked.

"Good," she replied. "Very good. We argue occasionally, we get over it. I've never been so comfortable with anyone."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I want to keep him, Helen, and I don't know if I can."

"You don't think he's ready to settle down? Or you're not?"

She paused a long time. "I'm fighting with the idea, it's still strange to me, but I think I can do it. No, it's Rob I'm concerned about. He misses his kids. I think he misses his wife. He seems to like me okay, but I'm... scared that he found me on the rebound, and when he's over her, he'll be over me, too."

"You think he likes you?" I was amused. "Jeez, Clarice, I've never known you go for understatement. He's so smitten with you, I'm surprised he lets you out of his sight."

"You think so?"

She sounded so unsure of herself I sidled up to her and put my arm around her. More seriously, I said, "No, I don't think so. I don't think 'smitten' is the word. He's in love, and he's content to let you have the freedom you need, because he believes you're right for each other."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

I shook my head. "Not as such. But remember when you got back together? He was so happy, so relieved, that I could feel it, even with everything else that was going on."

"He wouldn't have been happy if he knew about all that."

"Maybe not," I said, "but it wouldn't drive him away. Even now, if you were to tell him... no, I don't think you need to, it's done with, but you wouldn't lose him over it."

Clarice didn't say anything, just laid her head on my shoulder.

"He thinks you're the best thing that ever happened to him," I continued, "and I think he's right. He's certainly going to miss his kids, and I hope he can work out something with Pam that he can get to see them. I think he may miss Pam too, to a point... you don't spend so many years with someone and then just drop her without regrets. But I can tell you, from having been there at the time, that he never loved Pam the way he loves you, and it was a much less mature Rob that married her. He isn't on the rebound."

She said something about hoping I was right. I don't recall what, because there was a bright flash, and I saw Brian waving a camera at the window, grinning. Clarice yelped and covered her breasts, but I couldn't free myself to do the same... besides, we both realized immediately that it was too late.

He yelled something through the window. Clarice giggled, but I couldn't hear him over the noise of the tub. "He said it was only the flash. He didn't use the camera."

His face vanished from the window, and a minute later there was a knock on the door. Clarice yelled for him to come in.

Brian sat in a plastic chair facing us. "You didn't see me looking through the window, so I went to get the camera. It would have been a great blackmail shot."

Clarice snorted. "Blackmail? What would you do, threaten to show the photo to our boyfriends?"

"Not like there was anything we should be ashamed of," I said. "Hell, go get your camera." I hugged Clarice back to me. "What do you think?" I asked her.

"Sure, why not?"

Brian picked up the empty wine bottle. "How much have you two had to drink?"

"Get your damn camera before we sober up," said Clarice. He shook his head and left.

When he came back with the camera, Clarice put her arm around my back and we posed for him, giggling like teenagers.

Rob heard the giggling and came through while we were still goofing off. "Jesus," he said, "what have I been missing?" And we all burst out laughing.

"You gonna join us?" asked Clarice.

"Uhh... maybe later," said Brian, and Rob looked uncomfortable too.

"I'll get out now," I said, "you two leave for a moment."

"What's wrong?" asked Clarice, when they had gone.

"Nothing," I said. "I figure Rob would prefer that I wasn't here."

"And you have no interest in Brian's reactions to our little photo shoot?"

I laughed. She knows me too well.

"There's something he hasn't thought through."

"What's that?"

"Where the hell is he going to have the photos developed?"

I laughed again as I wrapped my towel around me and left.

I found Rob and Brian in the living room. "Your presence is required in there," I told Rob. Then I took Brian by the hand and led him into our room. "And yours is required in here."

I wrapped my arms around his head and let him peel my towel away.

We fell asleep afterwards. I only took about a half-hour nap, but he's still out. From the silence in the next room, I think the other two are still relaxing in the tub.

If relaxing is the right word.

 

Friday evening was cool, but not as cold as it had been. We all went to the catfish pond. The guys had struck out in the afternoon. Small bluegills were eating the bait, and the catfish were staying away.

Clarice had the bright idea... largely because they were running out of worms, and it was too cold to find any crickets... of using the bluegills as bait. She got a bite on her first cast, and reeled in a small catfish on the second. After that we brought in some good sized fish - the two we kept were probably about eight pounds each. Rob and Brian cleaned them, and yesterday we had a welcome break from left-over turkey.

I almost feel like I've had enough of a break. I can't say I'm looking forward to work tomorrow, we're back to high-pressure time - for Brian as well as for me - but I feel like I'm ready for it.