Sorry I’ve been away for so long. I still read the stories almost daily, but I have not been inspired to write another until now. This one is a bit different than my others but I hope you will like it. Thanks, Kind Readers for your personal messages and comments. And now, let’s look in on a tired old man on the last night of his life. He’s had a fairly good life but now he’s alone and sick. Ask yourself…what would you do if you knew you were dying?

James’ story

‘What in the fuck am I doing out here?’ he silently asked himself as he drove through the dark and nearly deserted streets. Then he would remember…one more good fuck and then it’s time to end it. ‘Damn my memory is going fast’ he thought. ‘I hope I find one before I completely forget what I’m doing.

James had driven to this secluded but well known part of town for one reason…pussy. He was determined to get some just one more time and if he had to pay for it so what. It wasn’t like he would need money in the morning.

The big Mercedes purred quietly as he passed groups of women willing to sell their pleasures for the right price. Most all the girls looked expectantly at the classy car as it moved slowly by. One need only guess that there was a big payday inside that sweet ride. Some girls waved, others called out and a few even flashed their tits as he rolled past. As he passed each little clutch of barely dressed (and barely legal, he guessed) young girls he continually told himself, ‘I’ll pick up the next nice one I see. Doesn’t matter if she’s legal…..hell I don’t care if she has HIV or AIDS. What is it gonna matter.

At nearly 64, James was alone. He had to remind himself that he had had a fairly good life. After the first failed marriage he had found the love of his life…. a keeper. He was still just twenty-three and she barely nineteen when they met and married. Cheryl had been totally devoted and they had a beautiful daughter early on. James had wanted to name her Cassandra but Cheryl was determined to give her first child a biblical name. A brief argument ensued and they decided to compromise…their daughter would be called Hope. She was to be their only child. Cheryl developed ovarian cysts after Hope was born which turned malignant while she was still in her mid twenties. A total hysterectomy ended any hope for more kids but James was not upset. He doted on his precious daughter….even spoiled her or so Cheryl complained.

At sixteen Hope started to pull away from her parents as most teens do. Cheryl and James did their best to accept and understand but their efforts only caused her to rebel even more. By seventeen, Hope had dropped out of school and was deeply into drugs. On her eighteenth birthday Hope left home for good. She had taken up with a ‘worthless lowlife’ as James described him and the two of them had left town. Contact with her worried parents became more infrequent and eventually stopped altogether.

Just two days before his forty-fifth birthday, James received an email from his daughter. It was short, but not too sweet. She wrote that she had given birth to a baby girl. That was it. No clue as to where she was, how she was doing or even the child’s name. James and Cheryl shared a bittersweet toast to their new granddaughter and then went quietly to bed.

Less than a month later, Cheryl was again diagnosed with cancer. She fought and James stood by her but the beast was too strong. Cheryl lost her battle and James lost the love of his life…..she was only forty-one.

Sad and single, James poured himself into his work. He had always been successful and Cheryl had insisted that they save. They had been smart in their investments and even Cheryl’s huge medical bills hadn’t made too big of a dent in their portfolio. James didn’t treat himself often, but he did allow himself one luxury…his cars. He bought his first Mercedes three years after Cheryl passed and found that he could trade every two years without affecting his payments. That way he always had a new car without the worries of an older vehicle.

He was on his ninth Mercedes when he was diagnosed with lung cancer. His doctors were not optimistic and he didn’t really care. He decided early on that cancer would not take him as it had Cheryl. He would die under his own terms and on his own schedule. To that end he bought a Glock 10, legally registered it and even went so far as to take concealed carry classes. He purchased the smallest box of ammo he could and put the whole ensemble into his nightstand drawer. Then he made his plans. He would go out and get a piece of ass then come home and shoot himself. He figured that at least he would die physically happy. At this point in time that was all he could really hope for. With those thoughts in mind, he had gotten into his fancy car and driven off into the warm Cincinnati night…past the bright lights and into the shadows……..

James caught himself daydreaming about the past and nearly didn’t see the red light at Fields-Ertel Road.