If
By Chance
By
Nickolas James
Chapter
Ten
When I was a little kid, around eleven or twelve I’d say, I
took a drink from my dad’s can of Fresca. I specifically remember the
circumstances of the moment, because I had just been stuffing my face with a
batch of cookies my mom baked. To me, nothing washes down a stack of three or
four warm cookies like an ice-cold swig of soda, so I didn't think twice about
reaching for my dad’s drink, which was mere inches from my grasp.
Fresca’s a soda with an appeal I can’t describe. It’s
fruity, it’s refreshing, and yet at the same time, it feels like it’s only for
adults. We always had Fresca in the fridge for my dad, and my choices were
either Pepsi or Coke. My mom’s a Diet Pepsi drinker, and there was a silent
agreement amongst us all that none of us would drink the other’s soda. I guess
that’s what makes my decision to throw back a cool drink of my dad’s favorite
libation even odder.
As odd and out of place as it was, though, nothing could
have compared to the immediate aftermath of my decision. Because as soon as I
set the can back down on the table, my dad smiled warmly at me and lifted it to
his lips for a long swig of his own. That’s when it happened; out of nowhere,
he started coughing and practically slammed the can back down, giving me a
helpless, exasperated look before picking his can back up and tilting it just
far enough to look inside and confirm what he already knew.
There were chunks of chocolate chip cookies swirling around
in the can.
I was a notorious backwasher growing up, and somehow, that
fact must have slipped my dad’s mind for a moment. Just long enough for him to
swallow a substantial amount of what was left of my mouthful of cookies and,
I’m sure, a few grams of my saliva. I didn't think it was such a terrible thing
myself, but that’s probably because most kids don’t see anything wrong with
their own spittle.
To be honest, I don’t think my mom and dad were that
disgusted by my germs, so much as they were disturbed by my lack of progress
when it came to not sharing them with everyone. I’d like to say that I suppose
I’d have reacted the same way that my dad did if I were faced with a similar
situation, but unfortunately, I’ve already been there and done that.
One night I was over at Peter’s house for supper, back when
his kids were very small, and we were having a good time. After we ate, we all
retired to his covered patio and relaxed while the sprinklers ran all around
us. His kids couldn’t have been any older than one and two years old at the
time, and they were climbing all over me. At some point, his wife got up and
went inside, only to return carrying a tray with three heaping bowls of
chocolate ice cream.
As we ate, I couldn’t resist the request of his youngest
son, who’d climbed into my lap and wordlessly opened his mouth, expecting a
bite of my ice cream.
“Just shoo him away, Dennis,” Peter advised me. “He’ll go to
his mom for a bite.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, scraping a small amount onto the
spoon I was using and offering it to the boy. He took his bite, then he closed
his mouth and cleaned the spoon of any remaining ice cream by sealing his lips
as I pulled it away. I just shrugged and dug in for my next bite as the little
tyke climbed down and wandered over to his mom.
Some people talk about a perfect moment in time when two
things happen at the exact same time, and for a reason, but I’d never bought
into that. Maybe it was the skeptic in me, but I believed that while everything
was relative, every incident was isolated and any coincidence was just that, a
coincidence.
So maybe that’s why I was so shocked when I took my bite and
thought I could taste some sort of mucus, and at the same time, I spotted
Peter’s wife wiping her youngest child’s nose. It was almost ironic that just
as the realization hit me that I wasn’t just tasting ice cream, that the
youngster’s mom was doing what I wished she had done before he found his way to
my lap.
“Is my little guy catching a cold?” Peter asked with a
loving smile as he cooed over his boy, and I suddenly realized that none of
their attention was on me, so I took my opportunity and grabbed an unused
napkin sitting close by. As I dragged it across the surface of my tongue, all I
could think about was the Fresca incident with my dad and wonder if I was
experiencing some sort of payback for my carelessness as a boy.
I took a couple lessons with me from that incident. The
first was to never offer a baby a bite of my food, and the other was that was
goes around really does come around, even if it’s in a roundabout way. On the
way home from Peter’s that night, I stopped at a twenty-four hour Walgreen’s
and bought a bottle of Listerine. Not the minty, green Listerine, either. No, I
got the yellow, medicine-flavored stuff. I bought it, I took it to my car, and
I opened it up in the parking lot. I carelessly tore the plastic away, then I
promptly started to gargle until I couldn’t take the burn in my mouth any
longer.
All of that led to my first brush with the law.
Because what I didn't know was that across the street, a
police car was sitting in the shadows. The officer inside was watching my
behavior in the parking lot, and as soon as I was back on the road, he got
behind me and turned his lights on, determined to take at least one drunk
driver off the road. After a lengthy explanation that earned me a funny stare
and a raised eyebrow from the officer, I passed a field sobriety test and was
on my way, wishing I hadn’t even gone to Peter’s that night. When I got home, I
resolved to put the incident out of my mind and to try my hardest not to have any
more run-ins with the police.
That was years ago, I had almost forgotten all about it. But
as I sat in an almost empty courtroom with Donald Fasola by my side, my mind
raced back to that fateful night. The bailiff looked friendly enough, and had
shared a few laughs with Donald and the counsel for the company, who on the
surface appeared to be down to earth and easy going. On the other end of the room, the
When the judge entered the room, we all stood and raised our
right hands as the court recorder recited the oath that we would all be
testifying under. When we sat back down, I spotted Peter and Robin, as well as
a few other officers of the company from Corporate, and I couldn’t help but
feel a little intimidated. I couldn’t help but notice that Alana was nowhere to
be found, but I knew for a fact that she was named to be at this particular hearing.
Especially because it was mainly for the attorneys to get their motions heard
and to give them a chance to get statements on record that would later be heard
at any trial that might materialize.
As luck would have it, I got called to the stand, where I
was asked a few mindless questions by the attorneys working for the company.
Chief among them was my hire date, my title, and the primary function of my
job. I answered each question truthfully, and Donald never objected to anything
asked.
When Donald started calling witnesses, it became a long,
drawn out process, but not near as long and drawn out as it was when the US
Attorney who I assumed would be assigned to the case started her line of
questions. My guess was that she got all of the information that she needed
about me when the others were questioning me, because she didn't once send a
question my way.
So far
so good.
I guess being served a subpoena by the Deputy Sheriff isn’t
the worst thing in the world that could have happened to me, but I admit that
it was embarrassing. Practically every one of my neighbors was standing on
their porch, watching the entire scene unfold. My knees were practically
knocking into each other as the tall, lanky officer approached me, and my mind
raced.
“Dennis Mead?” he asked as he removed his hat, and I
solemnly nodded as he handed me the subpoena and notified me that he was acting
on behalf of the county and state as I looked over the fine print and breathed
a sigh of relief.
I knew I’d done nothing wrong, so there was no reason for me
to be under arrest, but who knew? With everything going on, anything was
possible, and I couldn’t be too careful. My first inclination was to call Donald
before I ever got out of the car and ask him why the hell the police would be
at my door, but the more sensible side of me knew that it was probably some
formality or other matter and to just address it. I’d let Donald know what
happened after they left.
The next morning I woke up in a state of euphoria. Gerald
was up early, and decided to wake me up his own way. I started to stir when the
warmth of his mouth enveloped my manhood, and in no time at all, I was covered
in goose bumps and my toes were curling as I tried to hang on a little longer
to the blissful feeling that had taken over my mind and body. When it was
obvious that I was fighting a losing battle, I groaned loudly and let my love
overflow as my dedicated bottom eagerly consumed all that I had to offer him.
With a contented sigh, he crawled up to the top of the bed
and curled up to my side, letting me wrap him in my loving embrace as he teased
my spent manhood with his groping hands, trying to bring it back to life for
another session of love making between us. Of course, I didn’t want to
disappoint my lover, so I took the initiative and gave his body the pleasure he
was in need of.
I kissed all the way down his neck, then up to his left
earlobe, where I let my tongue linger for a long, enjoyable moment. From there,
I moved to his hard nipples and sucked as hard as I could while my strong hands
kneaded and massaged each of his pectoral muscles in an effort to maximize his
pleasure. When I left his nipples, I moved down to his belly button and again,
used my tongue to bring him the most intense pleasure I could.
Coming up for air from his addictive navel, I let my tongue
rake across his firm abdomen, back up his torso and all the way to his neck,
where I clamped my lips down and sucked hard while my hands once again found
his hard pecks and I treated him to a firm, forceful massage. While I was
leaving my mark of love on his neck, I could feel his fingers running through
my hair at a rapid rate, and I could tell that he was past the point of
arousal.
I released my lip lock on his neck and smiled at the result
of my handy work, then I moved down his body once more. I felt his fingers slip
out of my hair, but I knew that he’d grab onto the sheets soon enough. As a
matter of fact, I knew that it’d be almost instantaneous, because as soon as I
spotted his firm manhood, I quickly devoured it, eager to bring him the same
pleasure he had given me just minutes before. I could tell that my lover was
almost spent, and I was anxious to help him reach his climax, but before I
could, he handed me a sealed package and looked almost impatiently at me as I
accepted it from him, so I pulled off of him and acquiesced.
Once I made sure we were protected, I proceeded to become
one with my lover and feed him long, forceful strokes of my love. He looked so
beautiful to me in the light of the morning rays of sunlight that poured in
through the window to our left. His messy hair, his hungry eyes, his moist,
smiling lips and his pert nose all seemed to sending me the signal that he
didn't want me to stop, and I did what I could to share my love with him as
late into the morning as I could.
Staying on the same wavelength with Gerald as we made love
was easy for me. It was probably because I loved him so much, and even if
Gerald never had said it to me, I’d know he loved me too. It was more than the
words he said every chance he had. It
was about the way he looked at me. The way we were always touching each other.
Not in a lewd way, but in a familiar, comfortable way. There were moments of
the day when I found myself simply seeking his touch so I could feel something
substantial to help me relax or even to concentrate.
So it was no surprise to me
when, after close to an hour of our union of romance in bed, we both reached
our limit of love and pleasure at the same time. He grinned up at me and
offered me his sweet lips for a kiss, and I accepted his offer without delay.
When our bodies separated, we still stayed close. I gathered him into my arms
and held him tightly for the remainder of the morning, longing to hold onto the
moment we were sharing for all of eternity.
I blinked when I saw the figure, and I had to look twice
just to be certain that I wasn’t mistaken.
“All you have to do is sign,” Donald said, looking at me
with an expectant smile.
“Really?” I asked in disbelief. “This is….this is right?”
“It’s typical in a case like this,” he said matter of
factly, so I picked the pen up and did the only thing that seemed natural at
the moment.
They say that in this day and age, to be considered a
millionaire, you have to be worth more than ten million dollars. Well, I’ve
been putting my money away since I got out of college, and I’ve built a
portfolio worth more than a million dollars. Most of that wealth is in the form
of real estate, precious metals, stocks and bonds, but about forty percent of
it is currency from my money market account. While it’s true that the dollar is
weak right now, I fully expect it to rebound and to realize a substantial gain
on my money. When our bond rating goes up, so will my net worth.
The settlement that the Corporation was offering me wasn’t
enough to push me over that ten million dollar mark, but it was good enough for
me. By the time Donald got his cut, I’d still have a little more than five
million dollars for myself. If I invested it wisely, I’d never have to worry
about money again. Of course, I’d still work, but there was no way I wanted to
do anything near as stressful as I’d been doing. Maybe I could work as a clerk
somewhere, doing payroll and accounts receivable. Or I could possibly work from
home like Gerald.
Then again, if I positioned every dollar just right, I could
retire early.
“When would I get it?” I asked pensively, my mind still
trying to compute the offer that was on the table in front of me.
“Within thirty days,” Donald said. “But listen, you aren’t
the only one getting this offer. Someone else is working with the justice
department on this. I’ve been advised of their identity, but I have to stress
to you the importance of you not having any contact with this person before the
deposition.”
“Who is it?” I asked curiously,
looking up from the paperwork I’d just inked at Donald, who was giving me a
guarded look before he raised his eyebrow and spoke.
It seemed like the last of the representatives from the
company had been questioned and that we’d be dismissed. I looked up at the
clock and cracked my knuckles out of boredom, and maybe a little out of fear
because I wasn’t looking forward to testifying against so many people I’d
looked up to and reported to for years.
The judge asked Donald if there were any more witnesses he
wanted to call, and he indicated that he had none. He asked the counsel for the
Corporation if they had any more witnesses that they wanted to call, and they
likewise declined to call anyone to the stand. Finally, he turned to the
“I do your honor,” she said assertively. “I’d like to call
Alana Cary to the stand.”
I swallowed hard and watched as she made her way to the
front of the courtroom, realizing that she must have slipped into the chambers
when I wasn’t paying attention. She made eye contact with me and nodded, then
she looked straight ahead, seemingly to avoid making eye contact with Peter,
who looked like he was ready to cry.