Love for the Living
Brian G. Angevine
©1984/2010 Brian G. Angevine
is a story of lust and love and includes graphic sexual situations. It was
written at a time when I had lost a long term love and was nearly suicidal.
This story helped me keep my sanity and deal with the loss in a more productive
believe it has some good images of male/female relationships. It shows how a
chance encounter can lead to a productive relationship and then to a more
controlling situation and with how that can be handled.
story is entirely fictional and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is
Although it was
cold and ice rimmed the shore, for some reason the small lake in the park
opposite Town Center in Kansas City beckoned Roger Carr. He parked his beat-up
Chevy and walked slowly along the shore. The Lady of the Lake called to him
like a siren or a mermaid. He stopped on the edge near the heavy woods that
lined the stream entering the lake. He looked around and saw no other humans
and heard only silence other than the siren call luring him.
water felt cold and hostile as he slipped under the surface. It seemed like he
had been here so many times before yet each time felt new and different. An
unpleasant feeling. Each time he believed he was ready to climb out of the
unfriendly surroundings something conspired to push him back in. Just today a
lifeline was thrown that seemed like a cure-all, but as he tried to grab it, it
turned out to be somewhat rotten and full of slippery places where he couldn’t
quite get a grip.
was a dreamer, a real idealist. New ideas came freely and he enjoyed
manipulating them to fit different situations. He really enjoyed change and
thrived on it in spite of the hardships it sometimes caused. He had already
held some twenty jobs in various fields and different areas of the country. His
present job was exciting and rewarding when he was able to ignore his
idealistic tendencies and accept the minor victories that came along. But he
had been doing it for two years and already he was feeling the old wanderlust.
of the problem came from wanting more income but still desiring creative
flexibility. That balance between doing what you want to do and making money
was a real problem. Somehow it seemed that when you did the thing you most
enjoyed no one was willing to reward you in any realistic manner. The only
option seemed to be to climb the hierarchical ladder to get to the high paying
positions. But once there Roger had noticed that much flexibility was lost.
Suddenly you were expected to be a corporate thinker, or more accurately, you
had to be a corporate thinker to get there. One is expected to agree with the
corporate decisions and philosophies whether they are right or acceptable on a
he despaired along these lines Roger felt the water closing over his head
again. He was so frustrated in dealing with the realities of life that he
almost welcomed the relief that death would bring. Bur then his lungs cried out
for air and the old survival instincts took over. Kicking strongly he pushed
for the surface. His head burst through the surface of the water in a shower of
droplets. Shaking his head to clear his numbed brain the water streamed from
his hair in a forceful, glittering arc pebbling the otherwise calm water. One
diamond-studded stream caught the sunlight in a particularly intriguing way
that attracted his eye. He watched the little jewels spatter into the dark
water leading his gaze to a small movement on shore.
is strange how instant caution overtakes one’s thinking in unknown situations.
Although Roger had just been contemplating death and had even attempted to
bring it about, his cautious mind made him wary of the movement on shore. It
appeared to be a person and he suddenly realized his vulnerability. His clothes
were in a neatly piled stack on the bank where he had folded them when he gave
in to the impulse to enter the water. Although there was no particular
protection to be had in reaching his clothes, the fact that they were out of
his reach made him feel exposed. In addition the intruder may have been
observing him all along and therefore had the advantage. His previous dark
thoughts were now filled with self-preservation and curiosity about the person
he focused on the last place he had seen a flash of movement. It was up on the
slope of the bank behind a sparse screen of trees and shrubs that had lost most
of their leaves in preparation for winter. The leaves formed a still colorful
but spongy carpet on the ground as they decayed into the fertile loam that
surrounded the lake. There! He saw a spot of color that just didn’t fit the
rest of the montage. He took a few tentative breaststrokes forward to get a
better look. While the figure was quite motionless, as he moved the perspective
changed, revealing more of the shape. The screen of the branches seemed to
magically alter before his eyes as he maneuvered for a better position. The
hard, dark browns and grays of the angular trees gave way to a softer shape in
yellows and golds that shone in the early winter sun. Roger swam a bit closer
until he made out the shape of a head crowned with blonde hair long and flowing
over the shoulders of a tan all-weather coat.
sudden realization that he was totally naked sprang into Roger’s mind. He had
often dreamed of this type of confrontation, with mixed results. When
particularly troubled about his social ineptitude he would dream of waking up
in the middle of a room of partygoers. Inevitably he was in his bed in the
middle of the gathering, sans clothes. He always had the helpless feeling of
being exposed to the critical gaze of those he was trying to impress and having
absolutely nothing to hide behind. Sometimes he would awaken before any results
came from the exposure. Other times he would dream of wondrous things taking
place as he was totally accepted by the group and made to feel quite
this was no dream! Here in the glaring sunlight of midday caught literally,
with his pants down. The cold water quickly sapped his strength. He continued
to tread water as his college coach had taught him, with the slow figure-eight
movements of his arms and the widespread pumping of his legs. “Like riding a
big, fat cow,” coach Bayless had said.
woman stepped out of the screen of trees to the shoreline. Any hopes of going
unnoticed were immediately dashed as her eyes focused directly on Roger. About
fifty yards of cold water separated them as she beckoned with her hand in his
direction. Roger noticed how deathly quiet was the day when her soft, “Hi,”
carried easily across the intervening space. As if drawn by a magnet he began
to slowly breaststroke toward her.
that a little cold?” she inquired, standing with her hips angled and one hand
resting at her waist.
didn’t know whether to reply or to streak to the opposite shore. Somehow the
thought of clumsily rising naked from the water to gather up his clothes and
run dripping wet into the woods did not make much sense. Although he could not
see details too well at this distance without his glasses, the sun shining on
her hair and the slim figure, even hidden by the coat, was enticing.
cold body shuddered involuntarily and his teeth chattered “Yyesss,” in reply.
other circumstances I might join you,” she said. “But I don’t think I could
brave the cold today. Are you maybe a member of the Polar Bear Club?”
he replied stupidly.
then, why don’t you come over here and sit in the sun with me? I don’t have a
towel but the sun is warm today.”
stroked over to the shore until his feet touched the sloping bottom. He
suddenly stopped as the water reached his waist. Remembering his nudity he
stood there confused and shivering for a second.
tell me you’re embarrassed,” she said. “I’ve been watching you for quite
awhile, now come on out.” She spread her arms slightly in a half welcoming
gesture, undid the belt of her coat and began to remove it.
took the last few steps out of the water and stood dripping on the shore. He
needn’t have worried so much about his lack of clothing. Nature, through man’s
natural reaction to the cold water, had drawn back all loose appendages to
conserve body heat. His penis was nearly hidden by thick, curly hair. From a
few feet away it could scarcely be seen. Besides that her eyes were focused on
his eyes. He noticed their piercing, icy blueness before anything else. He had
read about the poet’s dream of eyes like limpid pools, but this woman’s eyes
were positively arresting! They seemed to reach out and draw him in, unbidden,
to some glorious feeling of contentment. Strange! A few minutes ago he felt
such despair that he was willing to end his life. Now here he stood with a
live, very vibrant woman whom he had never seen before, feeling something he
had never felt before.
finished removing her coat and spread it out on the grassy shore. “Come on,”
she urged. “Sit on the coat with me. It won’t hurt the coat, it’s treated to
voice sounded warm and caring with no trace of fear, loathing or sarcasm.
That’s one thing Roger was really good at--analyzing the sound of a person’s
voice and reading the real messages there. Many experts believed that the voice
showed stress more readily than any other bodily function. Professional
criminals could mask their feelings enough to fool a lie detector at times, but
a voice stress analysis would reveal the lie. Roger’s musical background, with
all his careful ear training, acted as his own personal voice stress analyzer.
And in this woman the message seemed clear—come, join me, I won’t bite.
nudged her shoes off with her toes and sat down on the coat with her legs
angled off to the side, leaning on her right arm. The action drew Roger’s gaze
to her legs. He stood openmouthed, breathing raggedly from the cold and
exertion, letting his eyes travel slowly. From the rather small feet, his eyes
slid over the trim ankles and caressed her shapely calf, encased in glistening
nylon. The hem of her beige skirt arrested his visual journey, and he jerked
guiltily, realizing how ridiculous he must look. He shifted quickly to her face
and saw a bemused smile and dancing merriment in her eyes.
you just going to stand there or will you join me?” she teased.
crossed quickly to the coat and sat with his back to her, knees and hands
crossed tightly over his crotch. Totally self-conscious now, he felt the
prickles of shame crawling up his back and making the hairs on his neck stand
out. He was sure his ears were scarlet and he felt suddenly warm in spite of
the cold water still sending rivulets down his body.
heard her move behind him as she sat up to look over his shoulder. “I would
like to see your face,” she murmured. “I would say that you are blushing,
except the red doesn’t show well through the blue and the goose bumps. You must
be freezing and we need to get you warmed up quickly.”
couldn’t resist turning to look into her eyes. Again, he could not believe that
she was really there, and really being so open and accepting. His eyes grew
wide as she untied the crossing panels of her burgundy, silk blouse. The softly
draped cloth, richly colored, hid the womanly form beneath, but as she
unfastened the small buttons her pale skin began to appear. Although completely
undone the billowy fabric still held secrets while her carefully manicured,
burgundy nails worked at the small cuff buttons. Deftly she freed the three
buttons on each tight cuff and began pulling the blouse from her waistband.
Squaring her shoulders and rocking back on her hips, she pulled the blouse from
her body and reached behind her to tug at the long sleeves. The action pushed
her breasts prominently forward and strained the fabric of her burgundy, lacy
bra. Although not especially large her breasts were full and swelled around the
top of the plunging, front-hooked garment. The nipples were barely concealed by
the sheer material and the outline of each round button could be seen slightly
bulging the translucence.
now Roger was turning toward her in amazement. He looked again at her face
searching for some condemnation or negative reaction. Instead he saw only calm
acceptance in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips stained to match her
nails and clothing. Her smile held no hint of lasciviousness or contempt, or
bitterness. She was not trying to entice him with her lips, her mouth formed a
simple smile of self-assurance—an open, trusting look.
woman’s hands carefully folded the soft blouse and placed it on the ground,
then moved to the belt encircling the beige, wool skirt. Roger was entranced
watching the belt buckle, then the fastener at the back of the skirt being
undone. He heard the promising whisper of the zipper being pulled and the brush
of fabric against fabric as she pulled the tight skirt over her hips, leaving a
lacy half-slip behind. Working the slip down with her thumbs hooked in the
elastic waistband, the woman gradually revealed a whimsical garter belt holding
up expensive nylon stockings. Although he realized panty hose were more
convenient and had nearly displaced the old-fashioned garter belt and hose,
Roger was pleased to see the soft femininity of the older style. Releasing the
tightly held stockings from their catches, the woman carefully rolled the
stockings down her trim, firm legs and off her polished toenails. Shedding the
garter belt she turned to him in brief, bikini panties that matched the lacy
bra. “Now, let’s get you warm,” she said quietly.
she pulled him close to her and lay back on the coat she said, “I read
someplace that the quickest way to warm up a person in danger of hypothermia is
to establish close body contact and share your own body heat with the victim.
Brrr! You are freezing!”
could feel the soft swelling of her breasts covered by the thin bra pushing
against his own hairy chest. His temperature and something else far more
obvious began to rise. Conflicting feelings raced in his brain as her silky,
strong thighs pressed against his.
and sex had always been strongly intermingled in Roger’s mind. Although he had
always had strong lust for strangers that appeared beautiful and sexy to him,
he had mostly avoided casual sexual contact. For some unknown reason he always
got heavily emotionally involved with his partners before having sex, and had
never participated in the one-night-stand, self-indulgence of the seemingly
normal man. Now some of the old guilt feelings were wracking his brain and
threatening his urge to complete the natural course of events.
to form the woman sensed his predicament and pressed closer to him, nestling
him between her warm thighs and gently squeezing her legs together. “I think
you’re getting warmer,” she whispered huskily, breathing her warm breath into
his ear. Her head was slightly above his and her soft, blonde hair brushed his
neck and shielded his eyes from the sun. She had rejected the current notion of
a nice hairdo—the kinky mass of permed curls—and had opted instead for soft
waves cascading down from the crown of her head. The sun made the curving, wavy
mass glisten with golden, flashing highlights that looked almost metallic in
their shining, but were soft and gentle to the touch. As their body heat
mingled and the sun warmed their exposed skin Roger was aware of a wonderful,
fresh fragrance all about the woman. Part of it emanated from the hair that
streamed down all around his face, and part from the silky firmness of the
smooth skin that was pressed along the full length of his body. She peered
deeply into his eyes from a mere few inches away and said, “Well, I think you
will survive this ordeal.”
was dazed by her actions, her beauty and the confusion in his mind about how
this all came about. It occurred to him that it might be another one of his
fantastic dreams. Maybe my body is trying to tell me that it is cold and I need
to pull up the blanket. Or maybe the real urge is to get up and go to the
bathroom. He fully opened his eyes and saw her glorious radiant hair concealing
his vision. Taking stock of his surroundings and senses he found himself very
definitely awake and in the arms of a beautiful woman. Pulling away he tried to
rise in embarrassment, believing he must have forced himself on her in some
did not allow him to back away but instead pulled him tighter in her embrace. “I
don’t think you are fully recovered yet, are you?”
are you doing this?” he questioned. “Are you a hooker or something? I don’t
have any money.”
threw her head back and laughed. The sound was incongruous to the situation.
How could she laugh at a time like this? Something must be seriously wrong with
this woman to strip and cuddle a stranger.
tell you the truth, I don’t know why I am doing this,” she said. “You looked
like you needed help and I decided I was the only one around to give it to
you took off your clothes and all. What’s the deal?”
didn’t want to ruin them. They are very expensive clothes and I would like to
wear them again. Now just lie down and let me finish warming you up. I don’t
want to lose my very first patient to hypothermia.”
concerned Roger reclined and allowed her to envelop him again. For some reason
she placed her lips lightly against his cheek causing his body to shiver with
excitement. “Oh my goodness,” she cried. “You are still shivering.”
didn’t correct her faulty reasoning. He was shivering but no longer from the
cold. Again he tried to pull away sensing that something was wrong about this
whole scenario. Instead of letting him go the woman suddenly kissed him full on
the mouth holding the embrace for several seconds. Now he was really dazed but
less plagued by guilt feelings. His eyes opened wide as he stared at her face.
But still he saw no conflict of emotions in her. He felt her pulling away now
and almost clutched at her to keep her close. She placed her left hand gently
against his chest and whispered, “Relax. I’m not going anyplace.” Pulling back
slightly she worked the panties over her hips with one hand keeping the other
braced across his chest almost pinning him down.
are you doing?” a strangled sound came out of his throat.
just felt we should be on equal footing, so to speak. You have no clothes on so
I decided to get comfortable too.” Rolling over astride him she braced her arms
against his chest in a half sitting posture. Roger finally got the hint and
found the clasp of her front closing bra and released it with trembling
fingers. Beautiful firm/soft breasts spilled out of their confines welcoming
his eager hands. Already erect nipples seemed to strain forward toward his
caressing fingers. His mouth captured one nipple as her hips slowly moved
toward the center of his universe—or so it seemed right now. He was not sure
whether she helped him enter or whether it just happened that they joined but
his whole being was definitely focused on one spot now. Pure, natural
electricity coursed through his body and no thoughts entered his mind.
returned to reality as he felt her stirring next to him. Reaching for her warm
body he was disgruntled to feel her pull gently away.
really must get back to work,” she said as she put on her underclothes.
panic Roger realized he might never see her again. He expanded on his inept
conversation by stammering, “But, I—I don’t even know you!”
a wicked smile, she said, “That didn’t bother you a few minutes ago!”
I see you again?”
might be arranged. Actually, I think I’d like that.”
what’s your name? Or how can I find you?” He felt like such a fool. Usually he
avoided talking to beautiful women because of this very fact. He seemed to
stumble over words until his basic shyness and lack of social graces turned
them away. She didn’t seem one bit perturbed though as she reached into her
small handbag to extract a business card. She handed it to him without comment.
Begal,” he read. “The Treasure Chest, Antique Jewelry.”
chuckled and said, “Well, you’re close. It’s BeGal, with the emphasis on the
he repeated, again feeling very foolish. “Is this your business?”
I started it a few years ago because I was so fascinated with my Mother’s and
Grandmother’s old keepsakes. Sorting through them after their deaths left me
with a very unusual feeling—one of almost awe. I began attending estate
auctions when old women died. It seemed very easy to sort out the real good
stuff from the trashy bangles. Soon I had quite a collection.”
his usual flair for returning to a moot point, Roger said, “Oh, they are both
turned to look at his face as she detected the note of remorse in his voice.
“Yes,” she replied. “They’re both dead.”
I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
problem,” she said. “I really think most people make too big a deal about
death. It happens to be a natural part of life, and sometimes very necessary.”
stared at the ground in self-pity. Not only had he placed undue emphasis on his
own death through attempted suicide, he was now making a mockery out of a basic
conversation. Jennifer stood over him, now fully clothed, and said, “May I have
my coat back?”
jumped to his feet as the embarrassment flooded back. Again he was stark naked
while she was fully clothed and a flush of shame colored his cheeks. He picked
up her stained coat and looked with remorse at the spotted area. “Looks like it
is due for a cleaning,” he said.
problem,” she repeated. “There is a cleaner in the Town Square where my shop
stood with his hands clasped, he hoped, casually over his crotch. Jennifer
again smiled her knowing smile and stood back casting a head to toe appraisal
bad,” she said. “By the way, what is your name?”
Carr,” Roger said, again acutely aware of his lack of conversational ability.
call me, Roger,” she said, and melted quickly into the screen of leafless trees
Roger stood staring dumbly after her. Clutching the small, engraved card in his
hand, he finally broke his trance and looked again at her name. BeGal he
mouthed. Jennifer BeGal. Incredible. Absolutely incredible!
intruded on his thoughts again. He looked around in his nakedness and then
chuckled as he thought of others watching that scene. He shook his head and
said quietly, “They got one heck of a show!” Roger began picking his way
carefully around the shore of the lake. By the time he returned to his clothes
his tender feet showed the trauma. He dressed quickly and strode up the hill to
his parked car.
climbed in and realized he hadn’t even left a suicide note. Strange. But he didn’t really know to whom he
would have written one. In fact, that was part of his despair. He had no woman
in his life and really few friends that he felt close to. There were no
children from his first and only marriage, and relatives weren’t much of a
consideration. His parents and sisters all lived far away and he never felt
very close to any of them anyway. Roger believed that he had a real problem
was certainly not unattractive. Many women found him quite good looking. He
wasn’t exactly a hunk at five-ten-and-a-half, so he couldn’t be called tall,
but when he was around his family he felt like a giant. Dad was 5’6”, Mom 5’3”
and three sisters all very close to five feet tall. In normal circles his
height didn’t make him stand out. His shoulders were very broad and he carried
much muscle. Enormously strong thighs topped well-shaped calves and his upper
body was well defined. Although his stomach carried a few extra pounds he had
avoided the potbelly so many men his age sported. His hair was naturally wavy
and thick and intense hazel eyes bracketed a medium sized nose. A firm jaw and
chin completed his oval face.
liked to dress well but he was not foppish nor too concerned about fashion.
Roger knew good clothing when he saw it and bought it when he could afford it,
which was seldom. He picked styles and colors that looked good on him leaning
heavily toward blues to complement his eyes. More than one woman commented
about his eyes changing color with his emotions. From steel gray of anger, to
soft blue after loving, his eyes betrayed many of the emotions he tried to hold
large, strong, short-fingered hands were very expressive. Roger had developed a
fluent conducting style when he led music groups and used his hands to coax the
best out of his musicians. Especially when he directed choirs he allowed his
own emotional response to the music flow through his hands and fingers. He drew
a wide range of dynamics and intensity out of his musicians, and sometimes,
when everything clicked just right, the people performed far better than their
normal capabilities. Sometimes after one of those emotional performances women
approached Roger with shining eyes and commented about his expressive, strong
hands. He had a hunch he could have those women if he felt like it, and a
couple of times he had proven the notion.
enjoyed having a powerful body and chopping wood gave him a sense of
self-esteem. Efficient chopping required timing and strength, and Roger could
add a final snap of his wrists to cleave the wood. Golf requires the same kind
of timing and Roger took delight when he hammered a long drive and heard the
gasp from his buddies. He felt smug when he was able to hit the ball much
farther than anyone else, but his score never was spectacular. Drive for show,
putt for dough, was the old adage.
played many musical instruments and found most of them easy, except for piano.
He had a mental block against playing piano since he was required to pass a
piano proficiency test in music school. He played recitals when he was very
young but quit piano in favor of brass instruments. The problem was not in
using two hands because he could play classical style guitar rather well. He
knew that the professors let him pass in spite of his pathetic attempt to
complete the proficiency performance.
why should a strong, handsome, accomplished man be so morose that he was ready
to take his own life? Lack of self-esteem was the major problem and if people
didn’t react to him the way he expected, he felt worthless. When he played
guitar and sang his own songs for groups people often talked while he was
performing. To him that was a major affront. He worked hard on those songs and
expected people to listen. He just was not a commanding performer. Even his own
mother stuck pins in his ego. “Don’t you ever write any happy songs?” she
asked. Those comments are a death knell for most creative people.
his songs revealed too much of his own turmoil and torment. Maybe the songs
made people feel uncomfortable. It is very clear that a creative person who
wishes to share with others has to have a tough skin. Roger did not have a
only I could hit a home run in softball; if only I drove a sports car; if only
I earned more money; then people would like me and I would not have lost the
love of my life, Joyce. That was the crux of the matter. He had loved the woman
for 9 years and he thought they would have a life together, but she decided on
another guy. They had shared so much and grown together in their mutual quest
for a changed life, but somehow he hadn’t measured up. He hadn’t dated anyone
for almost two years and he felt worthless and alone and unloved. The cold
waters of the lake seemed preferable to the cold sheets at home.
returned to the shop rather breathless. Her lone employee, Shari, while short
of exasperation was not totally pleased at the long delay for her lunch break.
boss. You get lost or
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