by T. L. Tate
The Reluctant Scoundrel:
The Tainted Series
By T.L. Tate
Copyright 2017 by T.L. Tate
Distributed by Smashwords
Cover Photo Copyright of Maksim Toome/Shutterstock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
May you find your joy within!
Table of Contents:
Main Story
About the Author
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Other Fantastic Reads!
The Reluctant Scoundrel:
The Tainted Series
I felt her body pressed intimately against mine. Her long dark hair tickled my nose and as she tilted her head back it flipped above her head in a wide and arching motion. Her excitement was palpable. Her dark eyes were blazing and full of vigor. I heard a distant rumbling. I didn't know if it was the engine or my heart doing a somersault. I looked at my wife, Jen. Her eyes were smoking and even in this dark and cramped space, I thought she was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever known. Her hair was wavy and dark like the ocean at night. Eyes like chestnuts offering themselves in supplication. Nice perky lips, upturned in the corners in a perpetual smile. Small cute ears, sensitive enough to hear even the slightest of sweets whispers. An oval face, which was perfectly cup-able in my large hand. Humble breasts with sensitive nipples that responded even to the slightest molestation. A thin waist that lead to a bottom that you could bounce a quarter off of and still make change. She had powerful thighs that knew just how to squeeze down to keep my hand or head in place. Mmmm! All of these things described my wife's physique. I gazed upon the beauty that was my wife and couldn't believe that she was still so stunning after all these years.
Her eyes were still blazing as she moved closer to me. Her small hand rose as she reached for my shirt. I fantasized about her crushing her lips against mine and us building on that passion until it devoured us whole. She grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. We had to be careful. In the cramped space of the back seat of the car that we were in, there wasn't a lot of room for any real maneuvering. I helped her by scooting closer.
A part of me wishes I didn't.
"Tell me the truth!" Her eyes were cut into dangerous slits, just as they had been for the last 20 minutes. She whispered fiercely, so that those in the front seat wouldn't overhear. "I saw you looking at that little bitch of a waitress, Lance. Did you flirt with her? She was hanging all over you and you just let her. I was sitting right there! Why didn't you stop her? Huh? Are you planning on seeing that little tart again? Huh? Answer me!"
I closed my eyes and allowed my fantasy to drift away into the sweet slumber of dreams while I faced the crushing reality before me. Jen was the love of my life and the mother of my two children. No other woman could ever be to me what she was. She was my angel, my Aphrodite, my Oshun. Still, she had spent the entire ride back to my sister-in-law's home, grilling me about the mostly inattentive waitress at the restaurant we just left.
I looked at her with as much love as I could muster and intoned sincerity in my voice. "Darling, I wasn't checking out the waitress. Honestly, she was hardly even at the table."
She wouldn't hear of it as her face turned an interesting hue of red. She whispered fiercely, "Bullshit! She was practically rubbing herself all over you. Admit it!"
My wife had a lot of wonderful, sexy and lovely qualities; however, her penchant for jealousy was not one of them. I spoke to her in soothing tones. "Sweetheart, she bumped into me once when she was clearing away the table."
She looked like she just won a prize. Her eyes widened and there was a slight look of madness there. "So you were paying attention to her!"
"Huh? No. I'm just saying that she bumped into me by accident."
"But if you weren't paying attention or checking her out how would you know how many times she touched you and why?"
"Uh, because it's my body."
"Right and you were just itching to have that little bitch all over you. Weren't you?"
I tilted my head back, looking towards the heavens. This conversation was getting us nowhere. When she got like this there was only one way to drag her back to center. I held her face between my hands and looked into her eyes. "Jennifer, you're the smartest, most beautiful and outstanding woman I have ever known. I love you from the bottom of my heart. There isn't another woman who could ever make me feel the way you do. You're my air—my life. I love you and only you."
The only way to drag her back to center was to build on her shoddy self-esteem. Nothing that I said was a lie. I meant every word down to the thinnest fiber of my soul. She really was my Everything...well, her and the kids. I just wish that she could see how important she was to me and how over-the-moon in love I was with her. I watched her eyes change from madness, to coherence, to embarrassment. She backed away from the ledge and was the sane, funny and enchanting woman I fell in love with all those years ago.
Jen and I met in high school. I wouldn't say that we were high school sweethearts. I was a nerd masquerading as a jock. She was an emo masquerading as a preppy. Our worlds never really crossed and we never really clicked. Being in different, yet parallel worlds, we knew each other by name and sight but that was about it. I was busy trying to hide my interests in anime, manga and dungeons and dragons from my other jock compatriots. She was busy trying to pretend as if she gave a damn about the two-faced people she called friends or the neglectful overseers she called parents.
If I'm being honest, her life has been much harder than mine. Because I was graced with talent in sports it was easy to skate by in high school. Looking back I had nothing but fond memories of that time. For her, she was always walking a very fine tightrope. Perhaps that was part of her allure. She definitely had her crazy moments but they didn't come out of a desire to hurt someone, they came into existence through the pain that was perpetuated by years of emotional loneliness and abuse when she was a younger. She never really got over it.
Our paths didn't cross again until our third year in college. I picked an out of state college so that I could get away from the expectations of those within my graduating class as well as the expectations of my family. I was free to be the über nerd I always wanted to be...which as it turned out was pretty tame in comparison. But I was able to shed my jock stereotype because in college who really gave a shit? I was coasting in college. I had good grades. I kept up my physique and had plenty of admirers. Ah, so many ladies so little time. Heh! However, that all changed in the second semester of my junior year.
To make money for my weekend extracurricular activities, I began tutoring. I specialized in biochemistry and higher order mathematics, but could really float about any subject and do just fine. I stayed pretty well booked so money wasn't a problem.
One day I got an email from some "concerned" parents. Although the term "concerned" turned out to be code for cold-hearted bastards who thought their money was an adequate substitute for spending time with their ailing children. Apparently, this specific child attended my school and was several major tests away from flunking out. They offered me two months worth of
my tutoring fee to tutor their child for one week.
Of course, I took their money.
I don't know who was more surprised when the apartment door opened, her or me.
"H-Hi." I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. That preppy, hyperactive bottle-blond was nowhere to be found. In her place was a sullen and pale girl with multiple piercings on her face and tongue. Still, I remember thinking, Yes! This is who she's meant to be, and Fuck! She is hot as hell!
Jen looked baffled. She did the only thing that she could do with a somewhat stranger at her door—she stared. "H-hi. Y-your name is Lance, right? I'm Jennifer. I think we went to the same high school."
I was still struck by how different, yet how right she looked. I nodded. "Yeah. Jennifer. I remember you."
So as it turns out, I didn't quite run far enough away to get away from everyone in my past but neither did she...apparently. I stood awkwardly in her hallway for a couple of minutes while both of us came to grips with the reality of our situation. We'd moved out of state to get away from the people who knew who we pretended to be only to be forced back together by Fate. It was bizarre.
"Umm, come in. Please." She suddenly looked like I remembered. Her sullen countenance gave way to an overeager facade that ran in counter distinction to her look. It would've been comical if it weren’t so damn sad. I felt the inextricable pull to revert back to my jock persona that she was familiar with. I fought that urge with everything I had.
I walked into her apartment. It was all dark purples and sad blues. I think I might've seen yellow...of course that could've been wishful thinking on my part. She bounced around the apartment and talked in a hyper-excited mode with a piercing pitch and everything.
"Oh my god! I can't believe it! Lance Lancaster! How long has it been? How are you doing? Wow! What are you doing here?"
I was suddenly uncomfortable. "Yeah, it's me and you're Jennifer Willis. I've been well. You know, just doing the college thing. I was hired to be a tutor."
That stopped her manic movements in their tracks. She looked at me like I had sprouted wings. "You're my tutor?"
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. That was why I wanted to get away. People find out I can do more than chuck footballs and dunk basketballs and they think I'm a Martian. I nodded in tightlipped earnestness, "Yep. That's me. Small world."
I normally curbed my intelligence because when I was a kid I quickly realized that it made others uncomfortable. So most people I grew up with or who knew me in high school thought I was much dumber than I actually was. I was okay with it. It was a role of my own design. No one but my high school counselor knew that my IQ was comfortably sitting 30 points above the level of genius. I shouldn't have been surprised by her reaction but it still stung just a bit.
Pushing those feelings aside I dropped my satchel to the floor. "So, where do you want to begin?"
A few things became apparent in that week. First, I found out that Jen was smarter than she lead on, too. She didn't have any problems grasping the principles of the different disciplines. She only lacked a proper study method. Second, she didn't really need tutoring. I didn't teach her anything that she didn't already know and I suspected that even if I hadn't shown up as her tutor, she would've passed the midterms without any problems. She had pretended to fail in school just to get her parents' attention. I guess it was either that or get pregnant and she decided that carrying another life around when she was barely 21 was a bit much to bear. Third, although she did battle bouts of introverted sadness, the real Jen was much more complicated than that. When we weren't studying we would talk for hours about music theory, quantum mechanics, or philosophy. One night we spent several hours sharing several bottles of wine and inventing a planet comprised of 50% water, 12% quartz, 30% aspen and the remaining 8% sentient beings. In this world, humans were third class citizens, which were just behind tortoises and where an unlikely crossbreed of German shepherds and teacup poodles were world leaders. Her mind was flexible and fun. We laughed a lot and immensely enjoyed each other's company. When the week was over and she successfully aced her midterms (shocker!) we continued to spend time together.
The more time we spent together the more I grew to care for her. It was innocent at first. We were still two different people with wildly varying personalities but nothing ever felt forced when we spent time together. When she wanted to be she could light up any room but she usually shied away from large groups. Other than spending time doing small things, we rarely were seen out in public together. Without so many words, there was a definite agreement between the two of us. I wouldn't say that we were a couple but we were headed in that direction.
As she started to trust me she came out of her shell. We talked about our pasts and our families. My parents were happily married and supportive, although they didn't have a clue what to do with their son who was a certified genius. I couldn't be mad at them for that. I could've skipped grades but chose not to because I wanted to experience a normal childhood and young adulthood. Her parents were still unhappily married. According to Jen, her parents hated each other in the most polite of fashion. It was all very heartbreaking. I could imagine her and her older sister, sitting at a table listening to Lawrence Welk albums as their parents attacked each other in their passive/aggressive assaults.
As it turned out, I wasn't far off. The only difference was that I assumed her parents, despite their hatred of each other, would at least take whatever parental affection remained and direct it towards their daughters. This was true in regards to Jessa, Jen's older sister. But when it came to Jen they couldn't be bothered enough to care. Day after day she watched as they spread their minimal love and affection to her sister and ignored her. The only time they would give her any attention whatsoever was when she was close to screwing something up. They couldn't bear to have their upper-class name dragged through the mud because their youngest daughter was a fuck-up...which she wasn't.
Years of being treated like she wasn't worthy of love and affection combined with high expectations that she succeeds in not embarrassing her parents fractured her. She created that preppy persona just to fit in with her parents' expectations and to avoid causing too many waves. When she finally branched out on her own she took the freedom to shed her preppy layers and make drastic changes to both her personality and her look.
Those changes went completely unnoticed by her family being that she never went home and they never cared enough to come see her. For three years her true self flourished but she still couldn't shake the ghosts of her past. She had a self-destructive sense of her self-worth. She expected people to walk all over her. She expected guys to use her for their own pleasure and throw her away. As you would expect that was exactly what they did.
By the time I met her she was immersed in her own self-destructive behaviors and frequent bouts of depressed introversion. I was the only one that she would take her walls down for. We were an odd but perfect match. I had a tendency to be overly optimistic and blind to some of the worse parts of humanity. She was overly pessimistic and flat-out refused to see the light in people. We balanced each other. If I was the sun, shining brightly and covering the world in the warmth and glow of my love, she was the errant cloud that controlled the amount of light I would expend. I needed her and she needed me.
That was around the time when I screwed it all to hell.
We had been hanging out almost every other day for months. There was this tension in the air when we were together. Neither of us spoke about it for fear that in doing so we would dispel whatever magic was forming between us, but it was definitely there.
There was this open party taking place in the courtyard of her apartment complex. One of her neighbors saw us coming in (by this point they just assumed we were a couple) and gave us the details. After a fair amount of arm-twisting on my part, I convinced her to go. The party started off great. I caught several of her neighbors doing a double take as Jen confidently interacted with others, laughed boldly and s
miled often. I kept a watchful eye on her because I knew that this extroverted display was eating up all of the social chi she had saved up in her years as a recluse.
At some point in the night she came across a kindred spirit of sorts. The girl affected the same gothic expressions that were so familiar to Jen. She had the short dark spikey hair, the piercings all over her body, the dark lace that somehow managed to envelope only her private bits. It was like looking in a Wednesday Addams' mirror. She motioned to me and I obediently moseyed over.
The girl's name was Izzy. Of course, I doubted that it was her actual name. It was likely an affectation she picked up in the same way she picked up her dark eye shadow or the peeking head of a cartoon mouse bravely displayed on the cusp of her left breast. But I wasn't one to judge. I traveled 800 miles just so that I could be the person I always wanted to be. I'm not going to judge her because of a name.
Izzy quickly became our faithful third-wheel. No matter where we went, Izzy was there. Usually her arm was interwoven with Jen's; however, sometimes she was hanging on me. On the few times she did hang onto me, Jen was quick to lodge herself between us or pull Izzy along to some new alcove. Even then, I should've seen what was bound to happen. But I didn't. I was too naïve.
As the night wore on the three of us joined the rest of the partygoers and got pretty damn shitfaced. We ended up back at Jen's place. It wasn't the first time that I slept over at her apartment so I pulled the spare sheets out of the linen closet and set up a makeshift bed on her couch. Jen and Izzy obviously took Jen's bedroom. Once her door closed I doubted they would be coming out that night so I stripped down to my boxers and promptly went to sleep.
