The Sun Also Rises

Epilog

Every story deserves an ending. But I have not had one with Britt.

It has been a true joining of equals. She is a beautiful woman and the hottest fuck imaginable.

But her physical charms pale in comparison to her dedication to doing battle with whatever life throws our way, never leaving my side.

We have experienced many events in our life. But there is only one person who has undergone ALL of them with me and that is her.

The real reward of our marriage has been in the intimate sharing of those moments. We have undergone both trials and rewards - always side-by-side.

We are like arctic oxen in the face of any adversary standing back to back with horns steadfastly pointed out. Each safeguarding the other's back from the wolves.

The sheer luck of meeting and marrying this woman, who I still consider to be miles above me, is a once in a lifetime happenstance. But I suppose that's the lesson.

The truth is that your life is no more significant, or meaningful, than the sum of the people who are part of it. That was the fact that I kept missing in all of my philosophizing at the Stade de France.

In reality, the mass of us just muddle along. There is no script. And we never know from minute to minute when some random person, or an event, will come along and redefine everything.

Similarly, success entails nothing more than recognizing the significance of a thing when it appears. And then boldly acting on that knowledge.

That was the case with Britt and me.

We weren't certain where the momentous events in Monte Carlo would lead. But we DID recognize that each was important to the other. And we took the steps necessary to cement our connection.

Then we worked very hard over all of the years to make that connection a lasting one.

I have led a happy life to my 50th year. In that time Brett and Cohn have been married to each other TWICE. I now hear that they have decided on an "open" marriage. Like I said, they deserve each other.

Gorton and Campbell disappeared back to the States. I wished both of those old airborne troopers well.

I heard nothing further about daddy after the divorce. But I am sure that Karma would eventually even the score with him. It always does with people like that.

Romero has been the World's Champion of F1 twice and he has also won Indi. I wished him well too.

The fact is that I won the REAL prize.

We have been married for almost sixteen years. And in my eyes my wife is as fresh and lovely as the day we met in Monte Carlo.

But now, she shares the love of my life with my beautiful Brooke. You're right, we continued the alliteration theme.

Brookey has been my pride and joy and partner in crime since her birth. Her beauty and intelligence match her mother's even if she is only 14.

We were living on the part of the estate that Britt's father gave us as a living trust. Their inheritance taxes are ferocious.

I had our house built to blend with the Earl's castle, or whatever you call something with close to 30 bedrooms. The main difference is that our heating and plumbing is four hundred years more modern.

I am not outdoorsy but it is interesting to look out over 200 acres of your own land. And both my girls love to ride. So they have plenty of space to do "horsey" things.

Brookey is in the UK's Excel Talent Programme, which is the development program for potential young Olympians. She rides a chestnut that looks so well-bred and regal that its former job must have been leading the Charge of the Light Brigade.

And fourteen year old Brooke rides the thing with the same steady poise as Lord Cardigan himself.

Like a lot of the British nobility, Britt is an expert horsewoman. It is one of the many things that she does better than mere mortals like me.

She rides a coal black stallion. It is so big and ferocious looking that the Headless Horseman ought to be galloping after Ichabod Crane on it.

Nonetheless, my wife handles that scary beast like she does everything else in her life, firmly, gently and gracefully. And it responds to her like an eager little puppy dog. Even though I swear I have seen it occasionally snort fire.

Watching Britt's big round buns in tight riding pants almost makes me want to risk my life mounting one of those creatures, the horse that is.

More pertinently I had one last curtain call with the woman who made my life possible. I'd like to tell you about that.

Britt's father has a world-class collection of French Impressionists, which he was talked into lending to the folks at the Corcoran. Britt and I went over with the collection.

Britt was there to represent her father the Earl. And I went along because I love her and didn't want to spend any time away from her.

I had sold the condo long ago, back when I retired to my life as an English Squire. So we were staying at the Madison over on 15th while we were in DC.

I was standing around at the dreadful pre-opening showing that places like the Corcoran always throw the night before in order to keep the wealthy donors feeling pampered.

As the Earl's daughter Britt was off doing her noblesse-oblige thing.

I was in the back corner huddled with the most beautiful girl in the room. She was wearing a far too adult deep blue cocktail dress and four inch heels, with her hair done up like a grown woman.

She could have easily passed for a college student.

I was holding a glass of scotch rocks and she was holding something involving strawberries and lemonade.

Brookey has her mother's absolutely perfect face on a fourteen year old body, which is also beginning to look far too much like her mother's for her daddy's peace of mind.

My protective attitude toward my little girl is something that my wife considers hilariously endearing. But now that Brookey is blossoming into an even more stunning replica of Britt I have been kicking around thoughts of a cloister on a remote island.

On the other hand, Brooke also has her mother's exceptional intelligence and sense of self. So I guess I will have to be content with knowing that she will navigate the waters of young womanhood just as adeptly as her mother did.

And she will always have her eminently sensible mother to fall back on if she ever needs advice.

Brooke must be the only teen on the planet who thinks that her parents are cool. I chalk that up to Britt's stern but loving parenting and the fact that Brookey and I BOTH regularly get into trouble with Britt for whatever criminal misadventure we've just pulled off.

My role is to teach her to be self-sufficient and brave.

We were standing in front of a Degas. Brooke was chatting very seriously and knowledgably about the brush work.

I looked over toward Britt. That's when I noticed that Shithead and Janet had "entered the building".

As major donors, the Corcoran people walked them over to pay homage to the Earl's daughter.

I thought to myself, "Of course!! The she-beast and her mate could ALWAYS be counted on to appear at a stuck-up event like this one!"

I thought that Janet was actually going to curtsy to Britt when she was presented. The look on Shithead's face was more along the lines of carnal lust.

It was obvious that he had a widely roving eye.

As they were being introduced Britt shot me a glance. She had caught the name. I nodded.

She went into full aristocracy mode. It was an uncanny transformation. My smart, funny, down-to-earth wife could have given the FIRST Queen Elizabeth lessons in class superiority and imperial bearing. The words "royal" and "aloof" come to mind.

The three of them talked for a couple of minutes. Janet was looking both awed and star-struck. While Shithead was trying to look down the front of Britt's little black dress. I had to admit that those two big mounds were spectacular, even with just a modest scoop and pearls.

Then Britt turned with the two of them and led them across the room toward Brookey and me. They looked mystified.

The years had NOT been kind to Janet. She appeared older than her actual age. And she had the haunted, nervous mannerisms of somebody whose husband constantly fucks around on her.

Meantime Shithead was in all-out seduction mode with Britt.

They both looked absolutely stupefied when they got close enough to notice who Britt was walking them toward. It was as if I had sprung up from the floor like the Devil himself.

Janet said with profound condescension dripping off her voice, "Why Jake, what are you doing at an event like this? This is not your type of crowd."

Shithead looked at me like I was something that he had just stepped in and said, "Yes, this is a little too cultured for you isn't it? Don't you feel a bit out of place?"

I said cheerily, "And greetings to you two. It HAS been a long time hasn't it?"

What a difference sixteen years and a good woman can make.

I said, "You're right though. These kind of events really bore me. I am just here to support my wife."

Janet said with faintly jaded interest, "Oh, is your wife on the Committee that is putting this event on?"

I said, "Not exactly."

Their faces both went back to looking like they couldn't understand why Britt had walked them over to talk to a nonentity like me.

I added, "I mainly came here to introduce my daughter Brooke to Washington society."

They both turned to Brookey who was standing next to me regarding both of them with a frosty glare that might have been slightly haughtier than one that Henry the Eighth gave to an ex-wife.

They said simultaneously, and with complete astonishment, "She's your daughter?"

I had to admit that Brookey was a spectacularly beautiful young woman. In her adult dress and heels and with her developing body she probably looked 25.

I said, "Yes, meet The Lady Brooke Ashley-Barnes."

You could see them doing the math. Then Janet turned toward Britt and said with total incredulity, "Jake's your husband?"

I said smiling, "For the past 16 wonderful years."

Britt moved next to Brookey and me, she took my hand lovingly and said, "Jake and I met in Monte Carlo and I have adored him since the minute I saw him.

"We live on the estate in Gloucestershire but we still work part time at GCHQ in Cheltenham. Our daughter boards at Dean Close there."

Brookey, who clearly hadn't appreciated the way Janet and Shithead had treated me, said in her plummiest upper class drawl, curled lip and all, "Yesssss only the BEST people prep there. Common people like you wouldn't qualify."

I got what she was doing. Brooke normally sounds like her mother, not Princess Di.

Both Janet and Shithead looked utterly stupefied.

I had to rub it in.

I turned to the treacherous bitch. And with all of the fake sincerity I could muster I said. "You were right Janet. I would never have had this wonderful life if it weren't for you. So thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Janet got it. She was always very smart. She hated it. But she got it.

Then I turned toward the two most beautiful women in the world and said, "We've done our duty here. Don't you think it's time to leave??"

Britt flashed that thousand watt smile at me and said in a deep Belgravia accent, "Certainly my dear. Being around all of these stuffy pretentious little people is dreadfully boring."

The subtext was clear. Shithead and his mate had been dismissed.

The two loves of my life each took an arm and we turned to go. But not before I copped one last look at Janet.

She was glaring despairingly at Shithead, who was covetously staring at Britt's ass. Janet's look of complete loathing and contempt was priceless.

I thought to myself, George Herbert got it right. Living well really IS the best revenge.