Fifty: A Fictional Novel

The book is her first attempt at putting to paper her thoughts on relationships between consenting adults, and the the ups and downs of trying to find a good man who is willing and able to commit to one woman. It is supposed to be fun to read and if you happen to see some of your own characteristics in a certain character try your best to be a better person.

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Fifty: A Fictional Novel

The book is her first attempt at putting to paper her thoughts on relationships between consenting adults, and the the ups and downs of trying to find a good man who is willing and able to commit to one woman. It is supposed to be fun to read and if you happen to see some of your own characteristics in a certain character try your best to be a better person.

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Fifty: A Fictional Novel

Fifty: A Fictional Novel

by Pet
Fifty: A Fictional Novel

Fifty: A Fictional Novel

by Pet

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Overview

The book is her first attempt at putting to paper her thoughts on relationships between consenting adults, and the the ups and downs of trying to find a good man who is willing and able to commit to one woman. It is supposed to be fun to read and if you happen to see some of your own characteristics in a certain character try your best to be a better person.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781452062051
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 10/14/2011
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 84
File size: 165 KB

Read an Excerpt

Fifty

A Fictional Novel
By Pet

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Pet
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4520-6204-4


Chapter One

New World dictionary describes fifty as five times ten, the cardinal number between forty-nine and fifty-one. Fifty has a nice ring to it. It is a nice round number don't you agree? It's also the half way mark before you reach one century. It could also be the time in your life you take the time to look back and reflect on where all the years have gone, and if you made the very best choices that you could out of them all. There are just so many possibilities, pictures and scenarios you could conjure up in your mind. They could all be wrong or they could be right. There is no right or wrong answer.

Chapter Two

No, I am not turning 50 years old and suffering from a mid-life crisis. I don't feel the need to run out and buy a cute little sports car, been there already done that. Fifty has always been my target number. Fifty is the number that I agreed upon years ago. Fifty was the number I was to stop at when I had had first hand carnal knowledge of fifty specimens of the opposite sex.

Chapter Three

Wilt Chamberlain claimed to have had carnal knowledge of over a thousand women, a few people shook their heads in utter disbelief, and others just went on about their daily routines, as if to say, "so what". If I were a man I would probably have had a party given in my honor, congratulating me on my sexual prowess, however, if you happen to be a member of the fairer sex you are given sideward glances and dirty looks. You usually are also called names that are not particularly attractive or complimentary either.

In circumspect I think that number is fairly high given that my age is not that advanced. How did it all begin? I sometimes wonder that myself. I know how it began but I always wonder why.

Chapter Four

If my memory serves me correctly, and now and then on occasion I find myself having more and more senior moments at the most inopportune times. I think I was at the ripe old age of sixteen. Let's call him Avery just to make him sound more interesting than he really was. We did not use the term "eye candy" back in the day, but if there was ever a man who fit that description to a tee, he would have been it. The whole ordeal took less time, than it did for me to find my way to his house which he shared with a room mate. I was inexperienced and knew it, he was also, but refused to acknowledge it, being the macho man that he professed to be and also given his advanced age. I think I had the unpleasant experience of subjecting myself to one or two truly dull more escapades with him, once after we had been ice skating (he skated, I didn't, of course he never bothered to ask if I did) and I think the other was after a movie. We never really broke up, we just never really were, we just each went back to our neutral corners and occasionally I would see him on the bus or run into him at a friend's party and we would politely nod at each other and that was about it. Did I mention there was a difference in our ages? I was sixteen at the time. He had to have been really old at the time, at least 23 or 25, which would explain a lot about him being just as eager to keep a low profile as I was? I have always been described as voluptuous; it's nicer than being called heavy or fat, so I have always looked slightly older and much more mature that what I really was. I guess it could have been an honest mistake.

Chapter Five

The remainder of my junior year in high school passed by pretty much uneventful. I think I met Andre somewhere during the summer before I became a senior. He was a wannabe bad boy, he never did anything bad enough to draw any wrath from the local authorities. He had a rough exterior, did I mention he was also extremely sexy and handsome. However, he was much too young to realize it and he could not quite make the combination work for him. When you are young and care about a person you tend to overlook most of their faults. He was also clueless in the romance department, but like I said he was a cutie and he would look nice on my arm taking me to my high school senior prom.

We were on again, off again for most of the summer. I left for college in Wisconsin in the fall, and we promised we would write and keep in touch with each other. Originally we did start out calling each other every night. His mom put an abrupt stop to the phone calls when she received her first long distance phone call bill. Eventually the letters started becoming less and less frequent. After a few months they stopped altogether. Hey, we were young, what can I tell you?

Chapter Six

My freshman year was great. I was finally away from home and left to make my own grown-up decisions. My mom had never been the type to stifle me. I lost my dad to lung cancer during the summer before my senior year of high school. I dated occasionally, but not excessively and I had already had two bad sexual encounters and I was not at all eager to suffer any more repeat performances. I actually started to hit the books, don't get me wrong I got in my fair share of partying. I have never been a boozier or a druggie, but let the music play and I will dance to anything. I will tell anyone that is still my one vice in life, well actually I have two, dancing and needy men with a sob/sad story. I have always had this need to want to either save, rescue or strangle them with my bare hands, sometimes all three at one time. But I digress.

CH7[ Have you ever known someone your entire life but never really looked at them? A man who would eventually become your husband. A man who would father your child. I was 12 years old when I first met Michael, he was seventeen. It was the equivalent of the two of us being from different planets. When I was 14 years old he was drafted into the military and was stationed in Okinawa, Japan. ]CH7

CH8[ My mom and his mom lived three doors apart from each other on the same block. I didn't mention it before but I'm from Ohio. I would see Michael on different occasions when he would come home on furlough or visit his mom. He was always cordial to me, but let me know in no uncertain terms that he was not the least bit interested in me. First of all as he was so eager to point out to me every chance that he got was that I was just a young girl and he was a worldly man. I guess in his own mind, he thought of himself as worldly. He had visited a foreign country. This went on for quite some time, and then I heard rumors that he was engaged to marry someone else. However, fate sometimes has a way of stepping in and setting everything straight. ]CH8

CH9[ While he was away he received what used to be called a "Dear John" letter from his intended. He was completely distraught and devastated. I was there to pick up the pieces and be a strong shoulder if he needed one to cry on. The end of my first year in college he met me at the Greyhound Bus Station and gave me a ride home. We talked the entire night, actually talked. Every once in a while in your life time, your true soul-mate comes along, it really does not happen that often. Most of us are too stupid, too pig-headed or too self-absorbed at the time to realize it. We usually blow it and make the biggest mess out of our lives. Michael was mine and it is now all this years later that I say with regret that I now realize it. If I was ever given the opportunity to do everything over again, I would do everything so differently. I hope that he has truly forgiven me, now that he has gone to live among the angels. ]CH9

CH10[ Michael and I eventually married and we settled into what one would call a comfortable routine. We had the cutest, coziest apartment and life was good. One year later we were blessed with a baby boy and of course we called him Michael, Jr. after his dad. He was the spitting image of his dad and they adored each other. They were inseparable. He was a hard working and doting dad. I had always been raised in the church and I wanted my son to be baptized in the church. I had not turned my back on the church. I had just become lax in my attendance but I wanted my son to have the best possible start in life. I found a congregation and started attending church again on a regular basis. 0

CH11[ As I reflect back now, I think joining the church was the defining or turning point in my relationship at home. Michael Baesdon does this radio documentary called "Pimps in the Pulpit" and he hit the nail right on the head. The biggest male whores you would ever want to meet are either sitting in the pulpit. Some are in the guise under a pastor's robe or sitting on the front row on the Deacon's bench. They are all just waiting to pounce on some naïve unsuspecting female. They don't just stay there either. You can look for them in the choir. They are in the trustee's room. They are even bold enough to serve you communion and they will make eye contact with you as if they are all that they should be. They will never miss a note when they hum along to the hymns being sung during the service. They can out shout any born again Christian in the sanctuary. They know all the latest dance moves. The Bible always says they can fool the most elite and that is the gospel truth. 1

CH12[ I was a stay at home Mom until my son turned one. My Mom worked part-time at the hospital and after I returned to work, she quit her job and became his full-time babysitter. I would drop the baby off at my mom's and then go to work at the bank. I worked the evening shift. This was before the age of computers and ATM machines. At one time there actually used to be a live person who would cash checks, and dispense money from 2-7:30 p.m. from Monday through Friday behind a glass window. The pay was terrible but the job was great. You got to meet a lot of people. When I say meet (not in the old-fashioned sense of the word), you got to see the same faces over and over again and could actually recognize a few by name. It sounds pretty hum-drum and I guess for the average person it probably would have been. It is kind of flattering to have guys flirt at you behind a glass window and I have to admit it, I kind of liked the attention. 2

CH13[ I have always been a big flirt myself (a harmless flirt), I never ever have any intention of starting anything or taking anything to the next level. Like I said before, it is great for a girl's ego. I would never describe myself as beautiful, on occasion I have been called cute, even sexy. However, what I do possess is a 100 watt killer smile. I have big dimples, and like most women, we know how to play with what we have been blessed with, to the umpteenth level. I have big everything, eyes, mouth, teeth, etc.

If you ever asked any women who has ever entered into an illicit affair, they will all probably respond with the same answer. It just happened. Unless a woman is very, very unhappy or miserable they do not go out and intentionally try to do anything that will demolish or upset their apple cart. 3

CH14[ Most of us like sameness, even if on occasion, it does get boring. On some level even though we may deny it over and over again we all want some form of stability and security and something that you can actually call your own. I have lived in Africa off and on for over ten years now. I have met women who are married to men who have 10 wives. They all act as if it doesn't bother them, but every once in a while, one of them will let their guard down and the hurt will shine through. You can catch a glimpse of the woman who feels inferior, or regrets that she was not enough for one man, that he had to seek out others. The women's ego is a very fragile and delicate thing. No real man should ever take this lightly. I will talk about this much later in my story. 4

CH15[ There was one particular man who started to become a regular fixture at my window. He owned a business around the corner from the bank where I happened to be working and he would come every evening and make his nightly deposits. They were not that much. His business at the time was not striving at all and most of the time he had to make deposits to cover overdrafts which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. He would explain to me that his wife was not much of a bookkeeper. A year later they eventually had to sell the business at a loss. He started to hang around my window more and more and was starting to make it his business to be my last customer right before it was time for me to close my window and settle my drawer for the evening. The whole process would take about thirty minutes and then I would lock up the bank, set the alarm and go get in my car. It took him exactly 2 months to muster up the courage to actually be waiting for me outside the door when I exited the bank. I think we were both startled. I always parked my car directly behind the bank so the entire trip took about 10 steps for the both of us. We just stood there looking at each other like two awkward teenagers, which neither one of us were. We were both mature adults, at least I thought of myself as mature. I asked him if he would like to sit in my car for just 2 minutes, after all I am a respectable married woman with a one year old at home, who I needed to get home to as soon as possible. One hour later we were still just sitting in my car just sort of gawking at each other. There was nothing physical at all about it. I had the radio tuned to my favorite oldies but goodies station and there was just a quiet comfortable silence between us. I finally broke the spell or what ever you would choose to call it and told him I have to go home right now. I told him that I am so late. That would be the first of many lies, I would start to tell. Someone once said that the first lie is the hardest, after that they just seem to come easier and easier. 5

CH16[ Even though I hadn't done anything wrong that night, I still felt so guilty and I was unusually jumpy. I told my husband that I was not able to settle my cash drawer and I had to stay late until I was able to identify the discrepancy. That would later become the lie of choice whenever I was late getting home from work.

After that it became an unspoken rule that Chris would walk me to my car every night and then we would sit in my car for just a few minutes and then we would both return to our respective homes. Our family lives were taboo subjects and neither one could ever mention the other spouse's name at any time or say anything derogatory about the other's mate. What was there to say, we did not know them and in our minds we were not doing anything to hurt either of them? I actually met Chris's wife one day when she happened to drop off a deposit, I recognized the name of the business on her deposit slip. We greeted each other and that was that. 6

CH17[ I met Chris in the springtime so it was not too uncomfortable sitting in the car and then spring, as it usually does turned into summer which still was pleasant. However, burning your air conditioning constantly burns up a lot of gasoline.

One evening Chris got this brilliant idea, why don't we go around the corner to his shop. It's about 8:00 p.m. and somewhat dark, hey why not. A woman can always convince herself over and over again that a guy really just wants to be her friend, but deep down inside she knows there is a part in both of them that always wants just a little bit more. The most Chris and I had ever done was hold hands and the occasional hug when he was getting out of my car.

When we entered his shop, he did not even bother to turn the lights on. Everything changed so quickly. He was like an octopus, one who suddenly had eight arms and hands and knew how to use all of them. This quiet, meek man turned into a sex-starved maniac in a micro-second. I was helpless or should I say putty in his hands. This man was my senior by at least 12 years and he had been taught well, extremely well. He was a kind, considerate lover. Afterwards neither one of us could look at the other. I can't say we got dressed in silence, because we never really got undressed. I drove home and I was hit with such guilt I have never known in my entire life. I had a good, loving man at home, who would move heaven and earth for me if only I just asked him to. He did not deserve this. I vowed right then and there to never see Chris again. However, Chris was like a drug, even though I have never been a junkie, never even experienced the high that comes from a heroin needle or from snorting cocaine or any other illegal drug. I could not get enough of him. I started doing the unthinkable. I would call his house and hang up. I was not a stalker by today's standards but pretty damn close to it. Back in the day as they say, there was no such thing as *67 or *69 so you could pretty much get away with hang-ups, without the party you were calling being able to call you back and cuss you out. I would make unreasonable demands of him, ask him to meet me at any ungodly hour of the night and if he didn't comply I would threaten him with all kinds of things. However, I never really carried any of them out. Women are much better liars than men, we are just built that way. Men are not even in our league when it comes to lying. I was not a bad wife I was just not a good one. I was not a bad mother I was just not a great one. I have never neglected my child. I was never one of those crazy women you read about in the papers, who leaves their kids alone at home for hours by themselves to fend for themselves. I always had my mom. I love my mother more than any person on this earth and I unwittingly and unbeknown to her pulled her into my deceitful web. She adored her grandson more than life and she was thrilled to keep him and it was even better if I let him stay with her the entire night. To this day they still adore each other. She is the absolute best. When she started to suspect everything was not as it should be, she quietly took me to the side and told me in no uncertain terms that, "your husband is not as crazy as you think he is and that he knows something is going on". When you are young and foolish you think you are smarter than the rest of the world and that no one can tell you anything and that you possess all of life's answers.

(Continues...) 7



Excerpted from Fifty by Pet Copyright © 2011 by Pet. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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