Bagging Lauren - Again

*Note to readers. I've written several stories about my life beginning with a pretty substantial physical transformation I went through just before my senior year of high school through an affair I had with my married English teacher followed by an affair with a married Mormon woman. Creative Writing is the account of the first affair while the second was told in Bagging Lauren. When I wrote it, the title just jumped out at me. After some reflection, I regret the choice of words because "Lauren" was a beautiful, sensual woman and the title makes it sound cheap and sleazy. That said, the title is set in stone, so I'm sticking with it in this fictional account.

I rarely spend time thinking about the past as it's a colossal waste of time. If you've read either of the two stories I mentioned, you know my early past was fairly challenging. My family was literally dirt poor, and I was just about the most unattractive and most picked-on kid in school until 12th grade. However, as I've written and shared these personal stories, they've caused me to reflect on the past and remember the good times.

This is a story about how things might have went had I not married the woman of my dreams whom I met in South Carolina just before I left active duty in the Marine Corps. She was everything I ever wanted in a woman and more, yet we ended up divorcing when her need to be dominated got to be more than I could take. (I also returned to an old temptation which further sealed our fate even though it was the cause of the divorce.) I've written about those events too, in stories called Making Changes, Offering Me Claire, and The Agreement. They happened in real life and are therefore written in the first person. This story is one version of what I wish might have happened. Since it's fictitious, it's written in the third person even though I'm the main character—or jerk. :-)

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"Dude! Turn on your television right now."

"Okay, hold on." Cal reached for the remote and hit the 'on' button. "Which channel?"

"Fox. She does the weather. Hurry before she's off."

"Fox? You gotta be shittin' me," he told his best friend as he changed the channel. As soon as it came in clearly, he knew why Garrett asked him to turn it on.

"Damn! She really is hot," he said.

"I told you, didn't I? She's like the hottest MILF I've ever seen," Garrett Benson said authoritatively. "She's 45 years old and looks like she's 30. I mean, she is just smokin' hot! I'm finally getting why you're into older women, dude."

Cal Petersen had seen her before while he was flipping through the channels and he had to agree. Having had affairs with two older, married women while he was still in high school, he'd had a thing for older women ever since.

"Yeah, she's really beautiful, Garrett. Now, back to reality. Who's driving today? Me or you?"

"It's my turn, but I told you I'm going to the Zumba class today. Did you forget?" Garrett asked reminded him.

"You were serious about that? Zumba? Jesus, Garrett. Who's gonna spot me?"

"Dude, you can ask any of the chicks who are always hittin' on you to do that. Or just grab another guy standing near you. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have to bench 450 instead of 475 once, would it?"

"Fuckin' asshole," he said. "Seriously, why are you doing this?"

"I told you already. That's why I called you. There's a new Zumba instructor and she looks like that MILF on Fox. I'm gonna check her out—up close and personal, you know."

"Why can't you just look through the window on your way in and out? Why do have to fuck me over just to look at some woman who won't even look back at you?" Petersen asked with a little bit of irritation in his voice.

"It's just this one time, okay? Jesus. Get the sand out of your pussy already. Aren't you a Marine?"

"Former Marine, but yeah, the title's for life. But that doesn't mean jarheads don't get pissed off at their disloyal—friends." Sarcasm dripped from the final word.

"Okay, fine! I'll work out with you, but I'm definitely gonna be checking her out between sets. Is that good enough for you or do you still need to go douche?"

"Fuck you," Petersen told him then said, "See you at two o'clock, right?"

"Yep. See you then."

Today was chest and back, Cal's second favorite workout. The only thing he enjoyed more was leg day. When he first started lifting in high school, he hated working out his legs. Over time, it became the thing he enjoyed the most while the majority of guys who lifted were into biceps and pecs. Petersen's chest looked great, as did his arms, back, and shoulders, but legs were the shit.

He was on his last set of when Benson said, "Holy shit! There she is!"

Petersen had 460lbs on the bar and had done four reps. He was going for a fifth when Garrett lost focus. Petersen's entire upper body was quivering as he pushed to get that last rep, but it wasn't going up. As he slowly lost the battle he grunted, "A little help here shit for brains!" Benson looked down and saw the bar was almost on his friend's throat when he grabbed it with both hands and helped lift it up.

Petersen lay there and said, "She better damn well be worth it. You almost let that fuckin' thing kill me—asshole!"

"Sorry, man," he said sincerely. "But she's definitely worth it. And dude? I think she's checking you out."

Petersen sat up and looked toward the aerobics area when he saw her. She was indeed standing there and yes, she was looking at him. As soon as he made eye contact with her, she looked away, turned around and headed outside.

"What did you do, man?" Garrett said. "She was looking over here until you looked at her and she bolted. What the fuck?"

Petersen wasn't listening. He stood up and walked as quickly as he could toward the exit. He flung the doors open and saw her getting into a shiny new BMW. As she closed the door, he ran toward the car. Just as she was starting the engine, he tapped on the window. She didn't look up nor did she put the car in gear. She just sat there.

He tapped again and said, "Lauren?"

After what seemed like a very long wait, she turned the car off and he heard the sound of the power windows. "I was hoping you hadn't seen me," she said without looking at him.

He saw she was still wearing the same huge, gold wedding band with the same monster-sized diamond ring from the last time he'd seen her. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you. You caught me so off guard I didn't really even think about it, and I wanted to say hello."

She finally looked over at him and said, "Hello, Cal. I don't mean to be rude, but I can't do this again."

"I understand," he told her. "I have no right to think you'd have any interest in even talking to me let alone getting together, I just..."

"Getting together? Are you kidding? After the way you left me...what was it? Four years ago?"

"A little more but, yes, it was about four years ago," he said. "And I'm truly sorry. I was 18 and didn't know how to deal with the situation."

"The situation? Is that what you call it? The situation?"

He hung his head not knowing what else to say. "I had to get out of this town. The military was my escape. I was too young and too inexperienced to deal with it...with...us. You were married and I was..."

"You broke my heart, Cal. You hurt me. You ruined my life." She was no longer looking at him. She was just staring through the windshield. Her words weren't accusatory. She was just recounting what she saw as reality.

"Are you and Reed still married?" he asked her.

"Married? I guess you could call it that," she said dryly. "I suspected he was having an affair before we met and about a year after you left town he admitted it. I would have divorced him but I was as guilty as he was even though we were only together...like that...the one time. So I stayed. I've also stayed as busy as possible, first to forget you, and then to stop hating you. And now you're back and standing here as though nothing ever happened."

"Lauren, I swear I never meant to hurt you. I just assumed you didn't want to see me again after that because you never called and..."

"I never called? Seriously? All you had to do was stop back by the house. Even if Reed was home he'd have thought you were just looking for more work. He loved what you did with the fence, by the way. But you never did. You could have called, too. But that didn't happen, either. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but in my world, the man calls. The man finds a way to make his feelings known. I waited for weeks to hear from you and then a friend of Karen, your former girlfriend, told me you'd enlisted and left town. I was devastated."

"I really don't know what else to say. I'm not the most articulate guy and I obviously blew it really bad with you. I guess I can only ask you to forgive me and hope that..."

"Forgive you? I admit I wasn't all that happy before you came along, but I had the Church and a husband and...a life. And then you came in and tore it all apart then just walked away like it meant nothing to you. I still go to church, but it's not the same now. I want to get back what I used to get from it, but I just don't really believe in it any more. So yes, I still live with my husband and I still love him, but I'm not in love with him. The last time I had...you know...was with a man...was four years ago. And you want me to forgive you? It's going to take more than saying you're sorry for that to happen."

Lauren released her grip on the steering wheel and Petersen could tell she was fighting off tears. Instinctively, he reached for her hand. She pulled away and said coldly, "Don't touch me. Don't you dare do that."

He retracted his hand and said, "This was a mistake." He didn't say it angrily or sarcastically. It was just an acknowledgement of the truth. "Again, I'm so very sorry."

She turned the car back on and reached for the switch to roll the window up. Petersen put his hands on it and said, "Lauren? I want you know that it...that...you...meant something to me. It wasn't a game to me and I meant everything I said."

He could see tears streaming down her face. He took his hands off the window as he felt the car slip into reverse. "You're even more beautiful than I remember, Lauren. I hope you know that." As the car began moving backward he said, "I really did care about you and I don't regret what happened." She put it into drive and he said just before she drove off, "But if I could go back and do it over, I'd never have walked away like that. I'd have come back and at least tried to make you fall in love with me. Like I had with you."

Her face was screwed up tightly as she turned around and told him, "Loved me? You never loved me. I was just...another piece of ass to you." She rolled up the window and sped off leaving Petersen standing there in the parking lot of the local gym.

"Dude! What the fuck? Did you talk to her?" Garrett had just come outside to see what was taking his friend so long.

"Yeah, I just told her my friend thought she was really hot."

"No way!" he said. Not sure whether or not to believe him he asked, "Are you serious? You told her I think she's hot?"

"Yeah. I told her."

"What'd she say?"

He turned to look at his best friend and said, "She told me to tell you she already has a boy and she doesn't need another one."

Benson looked at him to see if he being serious before Petersen slapped him on the arm and said, "Ha! Gotcha! You actually bought that didn't you, you naive bastard!"

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. You can walk home, dickweed!" he told him.

"Come on. Let's get outta here. I've had enough of this place for one day," Petersen told him.

The following Friday, Petersen was driving home from the community college he was attending on the GI Bill when the phone rang. It was Benson again. He swiped 'accept call' and said, "What's up, crazy one?"

"Dude! You're never gonna guess what happened!" Garrett said excitedly.

"What? Did you finally lose your virginity?" he said with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"Fuck you, asswipe!" Benson hissed. "No, the hot MILF chick asked about you. You know, the new Zumba instructor."

Petersen didn't answer. "Dude? Are you listening to me? She asked me if I knew how to get ahold of you."

After a few more seconds of silence, Petersen said, "What did you tell her?"

"What do you think I told her? I gave her your phone number. I even punched it into her iPhone, man. I told you she was totally checking you out. So you gonna tap that?" he said with his typical adolescent excitement. He was also 23 years old, just like Petersen, but Garrett Benson still talked and acted like he was a senior in high school. Even so, he was a loyal friend and after four years in the Marine Corps, Petersen valued loyalty above nearly all else.

Several more seconds ticked off before Benson said, "Dude? Did you hear me? Are you pissed off or something? I thought it would be cool if I gave her..."

"It's fine, G. No worries, okay? I can't imagine she's really into me like that. She probably wants to get me to take her class or something."

"Uh-huh. Right. And she wants to do me. Listen, this is your chance, man. She's really into you. You gotta go for it." He paused and then said, "And then you gotta tell me all about it because you know I live vicariously through you."

Petersen laughed when he heard his friend, who barely graduated from high school, use a ten-dollar word. "Yeah, sure. I'll give you the play-by-play after we spend a wild weekend in Las Vegas." Benson laughed and encouraged him to pursue her. Petersen told him, "Did you see that big old diamond ring on her left hand, Garrett? She's married. That and the car she's driving says money and a woman with that kind of money isn't interested in some guy who just started college over fours years later than he should have."

"Whatever, dude. I'm just tellin' you she's got your number. So if she calls, you know..."

"Okay, thanks. And it's cool. I'm glad you told me. Hey, we gettin' together this weekend?"

"Hells, yeah!" he said. Benson was relieved. He thought his best friend was pissed off at him for giving her his number, but he still wanted to hang out which told everything was fine. Maybe he'd get some second-hand sex after all!

Two weeks passed in which Petersen carefully timed his workouts so that she wouldn't be there when he was. He also started using the gym on campus three days a week to ensure they'd never cross paths. But the following week he found himself recounting the "conversation" he'd had with Lauren in the parking lot. "The man finds a way to make his feelings known." He couldn't get those words out of his mind and he definitely couldn't get her out, either.

It was about two in the afternoon and he didn't have to be to work at Safeway where he stocked shelves at night until five. He debated with himself for a couple of minutes then decided to turn off onto the road he hadn't been on since his senior year. Two miles along it, he saw the huge home come into view. The exterior color had changed, but otherwise it looked almost identical to the way he remembered it.

Petersen noticed his hands felt clammy as he pulled into the driveway. He'd done a tour in Iraq, but he was what Marines called an 'air-winger' so the only danger he'd faced was from the occasional, sporadic mortar attacks at Al-Asad air base. Then again, that was more than most people would ever experience, and he was just fine with that. No need to embellish the truth when people asked. Right now, he wasn't afraid per se, but he was most definitely nervous as he walked up to the very large door and rang the bell of the Bagwell's residence.

He heard the sound of a dog barking followed by a man's voice saying, "Hush. Good girl, Daisy. Sit and stay," before the door opened.

When it did, Petersen noticed the golden retriever sitting obediently next to her owner/master, Reed Bagwell. "Can I help you?" he said politely.

"Mr. Bagwell? It's me. Cal Petersen. I did your fence posts for you a few years back."

"Oh, right! Yes, absolutely. Please come in. Lauren told me you joined the Marines. It's good to see you back safe and sound. How are things and what brings you our way?"

He showed him into their large living room and offered him a seat before asking if he could get him anything. Mormons didn't drink coffee or even iced tea and he didn't want water so he said, "No thank you, sir. I'm fine."

Reed Bagwell sat across from him and said, "Well, you certainly look like you've been taking care of yourself. You were a weight lifter as I recall. Looks like you've kept up with it."

"Yes sir, I have," Petersen told him. "It's sort of become second nature to me, you know."

"No need to call me 'sir', Cal. I'm a pilot, but not a Marine Corps officer. Please call me Reed, okay?"

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that," he said ignoring the offer.

"Lauren's not here right now. She's out taking care of some things with the Relief Society at Church. I know she'll be disappointed she didn't get a chance to say hello. Speaking of church, have you ever gone back to an LDS church since you left home? I know you were dating Karen Mooreland back in high school. She's married to a returned missionary now, by the way, and they have a little boy named Kyle and she's expecting with another one. A girl I think she said."

"No, I haven't gone back. I always admired the Mormon Church for its stand on hard work and the way it takes care of others. I'm just not much of a religious person," he told him. He didn't say anything about the things that he found ridiculous like their temple endowment ceremony which was stolen from the Masons or their belief that God was once a man who now lived on some star or planet called Kolob where he and his celestial goddess-wives (plural) created worlds without end with our earth being just one of many. He knew Reed also hoped he too, would one day be a God having sex with Lauren for eternity. Petersen hoped the God Bagwell believed in forgave men for having affairs with their flight attendants, but didn't mention that, either.

"I just stopped by to say hi and to thank you for the job you offered me back then. I really needed the work and the money."

"It was my pleasure, Cal. You did a bang-up job on it, by the way. Say, I have quite a few other things that need taken care of around here and I'm either away flying or too tired to take care of them when I'm home. Are you interested in doing some more work for us? I'd pay you much better this time with you being on your own now and all now."

Petersen knew he should decline the offer, but he wouldn't be able to come back here a second time without arousing suspicion should Reed be home so he cheerfully said, "I'd be glad to! Just let me know what you need done."

The older man took him outside and showed him several minor things that needed taken care of along with a more extensive project. "So what do you think, Cal? Any of these things you might like to do?"

"For now, I'll sign up for all but the long-term project if that's okay."

"You bet it is!" Bagwell told him enthusiastically. "Lauren will be thrilled to see you and you have back here helping us out."

Petersen just smiled and nodded. He was thinking about the kind of "bang-up" job he'd done around here before and although he felt pretty sure there wouldn't be a repeat performance, he had to at least make his feelings known to her.

As the two men were saying goodbye, the black BMW drove up, parked, and Lauren, who had no idea who was there, got out and said, "Oh hi, Reed," to her husband.

She grabbed a couple of bags full of clothes she hadn't been able to sell at the church raffle and headed toward Petersen's car. "So who do we have visiting?" she asked as Petersen got back out of his car and stood up to say hello.