The BBC

And it wasn't just her eyes. Her voice seemed magical. She had one of those voices that sound scratchy and raspy but melodic at the same time. I guess the best way to describe it is to say that she spoke like Stevie Nicks sings.

It was the same tone but the accent was different. It was one of those soft southern accents that drive me wild. It wasn't that ear grating hillbilly twang or that indescribable Louisiana Cajun accent it gave a very slight, very sexy flavor to everything she said.

As I stood there staring at her almost to the point of being rude, everything just went haywire. Nothing about her made sense. Her legs were too long. And her jeans were just full of butt, but ... her hips were pretty slim. It was as if God was playing a trick on me.

When you think about it, she actually had the best of both worlds. She had rounded full ass cheeks that made you just want to squeeze them but at the same time she didn't have that super wide hour glass looking Kardashian body shape that was two burgers away from being a fatty.

Her top half was the same way. She had very narrow shoulders but the way her, "Built Ford Tough," T-shirt rocketed away from her rib cage gave you the impression that there were some very strong titties hidden there under what was probably a "Ford Tough," bra.

But the thing that really got to me was that heart shaped face under that long thick mop of honey blond hair.

I've already described those improbable sparkling brown eyes so I'll skip them. I'll also skip over her nose because there wasn't much to it. But that fat lipped cupid's bow mouth of hers seemed to alternate at will between a smile, a pout and several other movements that were uniquely hers.

My emotional side seemed to say, "Whatever you want, it's yours." Unfortunately, my brain was in charge and what it thought came out filtered by recent events and my badly busted heart. My mind seemed to say, "All women are fucking evil and this one is probably more evil because she's so God damned pretty you can hardly look at her."

So, when my mouth finally closed enough to start speaking the words that came out sounded like, "Why would I do you a favor?"

"Cause Nancy tole me her son in law was about th' nahcest mayun evah," she smiled.

It was hard as hell for me to maintain my stone face. But I knew I was crumbling inside. Actually, she had me at, "evah."

"What's the favuh ... I mean favor," I said.

"Ah want yew ta bend the rooolz of this heah he-man woman hatuhs club and ..." she began.

"Oh no," I said. "It ain't gonna happen. There's no way I could let you ..."

The funny thing was that even as I said it something inside of me was searching for a way to do just that. Maybe I could sell it as a gender free club for victims of cheating. Maybe I could claim some sort of Federal statute said that we had to ... nah we had too many God damned lawyers in the club.

There she was with that little smile, shaking her head.

"Not me Eric," she smirked. "Mah Daddy!"

"Your mother cheated on him?" I gasped.

"Nevah!" she said sharply. Her shock at the idea of cheating warmed my heart. "But she did kinda lah to him," she threw in.

"Just as bad," I said. "Women are natural liars!"

"Not all women," she said. Then she told me a story that should have been a lifetime movie. Her parents had been high school sweethearts. They got married and started a life together. They had a child ... She raised her hand and bowed ... when she said that. And life seemed great.

But then she got cancer and got really sick. Her husband quit his job and sold everything he could to manage her care. He never left her side from the first diagnosis through surgery and chemo and months and months of recovery. But happily, she pulled through.

They were both older and scarred by the ordeal but they loved each other more than ever. It took them years to pay off the medical bills. But they did so cheerfully and they rebuilt their life. Shit they'd beaten cancer. Nothing else could stand in their way.

They rebuilt their savings, sent their daughter through college and started planning their retirement.

But the wife decided one day that she couldn't wait. She wanted to take a cruise and tour Europe like they'd always planned to do during their retirement.

The husband as usual gave in to her wishes. The cruise was great. It was like they were young and in love all over again. During the tour through Europe he noticed that his wife was enjoying herself immensely but she got tired a lot.

When he mentioned it, she just smiled and told him that maybe she was pregnant. That got a big laugh since they were in their sixties. She promised him that as soon as they got back to Texas she'd see a doctor.

She passed away in her sleep as he held her on their first night back. She'd left him a letter that explained it all.

Her cancer had come back with a vengeance. Her doctor had given her only six months to live, maybe longer if she checked right into a hospital and began treatment. All he could do was to try to extend her life, he couldn't save it.

Her letter told him that she just didn't have another fight left in her. Her doctor had given her six months to LIVE. And she had chosen to spend those six months LIVING, not dying in a hospital.

She'd gotten to spend the time with the man she loved more than anyone else and to have one more romantic adventure. She begged his forgiveness for not being truthful with him, but she wanted to go out on her own terms. Her doctor had respected her wished and prescribed a massive amount of pain killers. She never felt anything except love for her husband.

She wanted him to go on with his life and she'd be waiting for him in the next one.

"Mah Daddy is a big strong man," she said. "But he cried for about a week nonstop. Then he just started thankin' ... when he had all a his thoughts tagethuh, he got angry. He decided that mah maw had lahd to 'im and he hated her.

Ah've had ta try ta put him back tagethuh but ah thank ah need help. Ah need ta git him outta the house and around some othah guys. Ah know his kind of pain ain't quite what you all is going through. But ah thank yawl'd be a good fit."

I agreed to go and meet him. I went out a few days later with Will, and Barney. We spoke to him and liked him. He had no idea that his daughter had out us up to it. He thought it was some kind of recruitment drive. But we'd all been hurt enough by women to understand each other's pain, even if the situations and reasons were different.

What really put him over the top though was his truck. He had a giant F-250 power stoke that was all chrome. It was the biggest most beautiful truck I had ever seen.

"Can you tow a double car trailer with that thing?" I asked him.

"I can drag a fuckin' building," he said. "Unless there's a fat woman sittin' on it."

We were sold. And Thom became a member of the BBC. The club continued to prosper and became even more active. We took trips together. We did all kinds of things.

It was about three months after Thom joined that I realized that we had a problem. We were camping in the UP. That's Michigan's upper peninsula for those of you who aren't familiar with the term.

We were spread out doing all kinds of things in the woods. Some of us were fishing. Others were hiking and still others were just hanging out around the campsite drinking and bullshitting.

I noticed a glare on a ridge above us. I thought someone might be hunting near us or worse. It might have been some of those God damned environmentalists who wanted to complain about all of our cars, truck and bikes or the way we were treating the pristine forest.

So, I crept up to the ridge as stealthily as I could and snuck up on them.

Them turned out to be HER. I tapped her on her shoulder and she dropped her binoculars.

"Jesus Eric, ya skeered th' shit outta me," she gushed and punched me in the shoulder playfully. Her hand rubbed my shoulder where she'd hit me and it felt as if the skin on my shoulder tried to maintain contact with her.

Her mouth dropped open and she pulled the hand away like my shoulder was on fire.

"Ah fergaht ... yew hate wimmen," she smirked.

"Jenny what are you doing up here?" I asked. "And why are you out here alone?"

"I ain't alone," she spat. "Ralph is with me!"

I couldn't help it. For just a second jealousy flashed through me. But then I came to my senses. A look at her face told me that she'd not only seen it, she'd recognized it.

"Ya'd have ta be a fool ta wanna go up aginst Ralph," she gushed.

As I looked around all I saw was a very tiny tent with one sleeping bag.

"You two must be pretty close. I said.

"We been beddin' down since Ah was about eleven 'er twelve," she smirked. "Ya wanna meet him?" My jealousy had increased to the point that I was pissed.

"Nope, I just wanted to make sure you were safe," I said.

"Must be awful," she said in an almost whisper.

"Huh?" I said.

"Bein' at war with yerself," she said. "You an my daddy 'er birds of a fethah. He still cries over mah maw sometimes, but as soon as he wakes up she goes back to being a cowardly lyin' bitch. Bein' with yew guys is really doin' him a world a good. Y'all have so much fun that it keeps him from dwellin' on it fer too long."

I remembered that feeling. And I knew what she meant. For most of the guys the club was a breath of fresh air.

"I'm not like that," I said. "I hardly ever think about my ex."

"Nope, yer done with all a that," she said. "But yer still at war. Yer past the tahm ta move on but yah wanna stay stuck in yer own lil pity party."

My mouth dropped open and I stared at her. "You never did tell me what you and Ralph are doing up here," I said as a segue away from discussing her observations of me.

"Eric mah daddy is as big as all outdoors and even nearin' sixty he's as strong as a ox," she said sadly. "But none a that kin protect him from himself. Don't let nobody else know this but he done come close ta joinin' mah maw a couple a times. As much as he claims he hates her, he misses her somethin' awful."

I was shocked. I would never have seen Thom as the suicidal type.

"Jenny ... I," I didn't know what to say. "You and Ralph be careful. Whenever you hear about somebody going missing and turning up dead it's always out in the deep woods like this. That's why we buddy up for everything. Where is Ralph anyway?"

"In the tent," she smirked. She went over to her small tent and bent down. In that second, I forgot all about Ralph, camping, hating women and everything else under the sun.

All I could think about was the view of that tan butt sticking out as her shorts rose up.

When she turned her head over her shoulder and caught me staring my face must've been as red as a beet.

"So didja wanna meet Ralph or are ya just gonna stare at mah ayess all day?" she smirked.

It's been said thousands of times that God only gave men enough blood supply for one head or the other. At that moment, none of mine was in the upper head so I didn't really think I just spoke.

"Do I have a choice?" I said. Her smile lit up the woods.

"Yer a real smooth talker when ya wanna be, ain'tcha," she gushed. Then she stood up and walked back over to me. Then I noticed what she was carrying.

"This heah is Ralph," she said proudly. I burst out laughing. Apparently, Ralph was a twelve gage, double barreled, sawed off shotgun.

"Enny body what fucks wit me has tuh deal with Ralph," she smirked. She flashed those sparkling brown eyes at me again. "Well ... least the ones ah don' want fuckin' wit me."

"Eric ... Eriiiiic!" I heard voices shouting my name from our campsite. I grabbed her hand and took off down the trail.

"What're yew doin' ... Ah ain't," she protested.

As we stumbled into the camp my friends looked relieved and then shocked when they saw Jenny.

"What the ...?" said one.

"It's a girl!" said another.

"It's only mah dawter," said Thom. He looked at her with disgust on his face. "Checkin' up on me again, huh?" he said to her. "Ah'm fine. Yew kin high tail it outta here, now that yah know I'm okay!"

"Unh huh!" I said. "The sun is already starting to go down. Remember how tricky it was driving through those trails to get here? She's not doing that in the dark. We were leaving in the morning anyway. She's staying the night."

"But what about us singing around the campfire?" said one.

"She's heard bad singing before," I laughed.

"But what about our ... uhm therapy session?" asked another.

"I have a couple of classic movies in my car," I said. "Her dad's truck has a dvd player in it. She won't have to listen to us venting and she'll be comfortable."

"Hey I was bunking with Thom," said Will. "The most logical place for her to sleep is with her dad!"

"She has her own tent up there on the ridge," I said. "But I see her sleeping in her dad's truck. I brought extra blankets. Her and Ralph will be fine."

"Who the hell is Ralph?" was the question that ended the conversation as everyone got back to what they were doing.

For the rest of the evening Jenny tried to stay out of sight. The guys for the most part ignored her. She hung around either me or her dad. But it was mostly me since he was upset about her being there.

The next morning, I helped her pack her tiny tent and sleeping bag into her Ford Fusion. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked.

"What?" I asked.

"Bein' around one a them evil wimmen," she smirked. She was right in front of me leaning against her car. "Nancy was raht. You are really nahce. Her dawtuh is a fool."

I had a barely controlled urge to kiss her. "Drive safe," I said, turning away.

"Still fightin' it huh?" she laughed.

* * * * * *

Dana

"Dana ... get up! You're late for work!" My mom's voice cut through the haze of my hangover like a shovel biting into a pile of horse crap.

"Don't have to go to work today," I mumbled. "Took a few days off."

"That was stupid and selfish, Dana," she said. "You have Erica next week. You should have done it then."

My brain was not functioning well at that point. The alcohol was still in charge. "Why can't I just have a few days when I get the special treatment," I yelled. "Why don't I ever get to just take it easy and breathe?"

She came right back at me. "You had that for ten years remember?" she said. "You divorced him, remember? Now you have to work and take care of things just like the rest of us!"

I got up and realized that I was still wearing the clothes I'd worn the night before.

"Dana you're dressed like a slut and you smell like liquor," she said. I walked past her and into the bathroom.

"Mom I'm not a teenager," I said. "I'm over thirty years old. It's okay for me to let my hair down and have some fun every once in a while. I can handle it. It's all part of my plan. Besides I can't do anything for a year anyway so I may as well get this out of my system so I don't fuck up again."

"Dana what are you talking about?" she asked.

"The articles I've read on the internet all agree that a man needs a year or two to truly get over being betrayed. If I go after Eric too soon it'll just make him even angrier at me.

And right now, Eric is pissed. Did you know that he's like the president of some woman haters club?"

"Yeah, I knew that," she said. "But before this I never knew why! It all makes sense. Eric is too nice to do something like that without a reason. You cheated on him!"

I thought my mom was about to have her own heart attack.

The last couple of months had not been good ones. My relationships had deteriorated. My parents looked at me as if I was a barnacle. I was just a parasite that was stuck to the side of the ship that did nothing but slow it down and erode the hull.

My daughter looked at me as if I had abandoned her. I'd tried explaining to her that it was Eric's fault that I'd left the house. And I told her time and time again that I'd be willing to move back in the second that Eric allowed it.

I didn't say anything bad about Eric, but at the same time I was becoming sick and tired of hearing how well he was doing without me. If I heard Daddy got a raise. Or Daddy got a promotion one God damned more time I would scream.

Even our old friends avoided me for some reason. And the few that spoke always asked about Eric or told me about seeing him. Didn't they understand that being away from him was fucking killing me.

The only person who really understood me was Peggy. After her shitty legal advice, she felt so bad that she was determined to help me adjust to my new life and eventually get Eric back.

Peggy had been the one to suggest that I get the whole partying and screwing around thing out of my system.

"Think about it, Dana," she said. "You're not cheating on anybody since you're not married."

We went out a lot. A whole lot. And I ended up screwing a lot of guys too. It wasn't something I'd planned. It just seemed to happen. The first one ... hell that one could technically have been called a rape.

We were out celebrating ... this is going to sound really dumb ... but we were celebrating the fact that Eric was so in love with me that losing me had made him start his little woman haters club.

Peggy told me all about how a couple of friends of hers stopped by the club thinking they were gonna screw some black guys with big dicks. They ended up getting pissed on by a black guy with a big dick.

Not only was Eric there ... he seemed to be in charge. According to Peggy that made him ripe for me to get him back. I just needed to give him the time to really miss me and he'd be putty in my hands.

Anyway, we went out to celebrate and I just kept drinking and celebrating and the next thing I knew, I woke up in a cheap motel room, completely covered in sperm, with a headache and a sore pussy.

I felt awful. After all shit like that was what caused me to lose my marriage in the first place.

Peggy told me that I was still young and I needed to get that wild shit out of my system. So, after a couple of months, I'm pretty sure I'm over it.

As a matter of fact, I have no idea why it ever started. The fling with my yoga guru had been just that ... A quick nasty fling that had never threatened my marriage. I would go out and screw the old guy and be primed and ready for my husband.

Eric was an idiot. What we did in bed was so far above the animalistic grunting and groaning that passed for sex with most guys.

In fact, it was the search for something close to that, behind all of the sex I'd been having lately.

It was again Peggy who made me see what the difference was. I'd been complaining to her about how terrible all of the guys we'd been screwing were.

"Jesus, Dana, you're just fucking them," she said. "You're not in love with them. They're not in love with you. It's just sex."

I'd suddenly realized that I was looking for something that I'd had all along. The reason Eric was so good was that he loved me. He cared about whether I enjoyed what we did. I was never going to find that again. And the fact was that every guy I screwed increased the chances that he was somebody who knew somebody who knew Eric. If what I'd done got around, I'd never get him back.

As my brain came out of my memories I realized that I had a problem. My mom had been right, I had Erica the next week, but I'd promised Peggy to go to Vegas with her.

I also had the problem of needing to find another job. I'd missed too many days and came in late too many times so they'd let me go. The fact that my performance had sucked since the divorce had also been mentioned several times. I just had my head too far up my own ass for it to register.