Bill spun his wedding ring between his thumb and forefinger while not
paying attention to the speaker. He was with his writers group which
meeting weekly in the back room of a chain French restaurant. His
cafe au lait was cold. He didn't feel like food. Or drink. He kept
catching glances at Wendy. She was about ten years younger than him.
Single. No children. And nice. The two of them usually chatted
after the meeting. Bill looked forward more to his five or ten
minutes with Wendy than the ninety minutes his writers club took. For
one she paid more attention to him in that short span than his own
wife did all week. Two, he liked her. If he weren't married he'd
have asked her out by now.

Bill's marriage sucked. Over the course of their twelve year marriage
Michelle had gone from a fun, carefree friend to an angry,
premenopausal bitch. She had also put on fifty pounds. He thought it
was ironic he worked as a life coach when his own life was in the
toilet. He started out in software, moved into marketing, was
considered a rising star in the well-known software company he was
with, and then without warning was laid-off. They decided a 20 year-
old kid in Bangalore could do for $15 per day what he had earned
$150,000 per year doing. He had always fancied himself a writer. He
self-published a book where he applied software algorithms to
marketing and sold 23 books. 20 of them he sold to his alma mater at
a steep discount to give away at the next alumni function. Life
coaching wasn't making him rich, but it was paying the bills and
giving him time to write his next book. Or do whatever the hell he
wanted.

The speaker finally wrapped up her talk. Bill felt like she was
sucking all of the oxygen out of the room. She was 59 years old,
looked to be in her mid-70s, and rambled on the entire time relating
her childhood in Llano County, Texas to the characters in the novels
she wrote. He had never heard of her, but did learn she had sold more
books than him.

He stood up and Wendy walked over to him smiling.

"What did you think?"

Bill shrugged.

"Not my style of book I suppose. I wish she had discussed more about
technique."

Wendy shrugged back.

"I know, we can only seem to attract writers who want to talk about
themselves the whole time." She paused for a few second. "Is your
son still in Scouts?"

"No, he quit thank God."

"Why?"

"He didn't like it. It was like pulling teeth getting him to his den
meetings. He wanted to play with friends or video games instead. I
got tired of arguing with him every Wednesday." Wendy just looked at
him. "I'm sorry. All I do is complain."

She laughed. "You know, until I met you I wanted to get married."

"Sorry to have ruined it for you."

"No, it's okay. You haven't ruined it. I can't seem to keep men
interested in me."

Bill looked at her and wondered how that could be true. She reminded
him of a young Meg Ryan, but with dirty blonde hair. And more
beautiful than cute.

She broke eye contact with him. Bill realized he was staring.

"I'll see you next week."

"Yeah, I'll be here." She smiled again. "I wonder what inspiring
author we'll hear then."

Bill was snapped back into reality as soon as the garage door closed.
From inside his car he could hear Michelle screaming at Bobby and
Emily. He sighed, grabbed his bag, and walked into the house. Emily
was sitting on the floor in her pajamas laughing, throwing Cheerios
from a plastic bag while Michelle was chasing Bobby around the kitchen
table. He was holding a Nerf football.

"Dad, go long!"

He threw the foam football towards his dad, but it hit Emily sending
her Cheerios flying. Michelle screamed even louder. Bobby rounded
the table, passed his mother, and went up the stairs.

"It's about fucking time you got home!"

Bill considered pointing out that Michelle was at work all day and he
was home all day trying to work and dealing with both Bobby and Emily
as it was some teacher planning day. It seemed like almost every week
was a four-day week with the local school district. They could always
come up with some reason to give the kids a day off.

"Yeah, I missed everyone too."

"You don't have to be so sarcastic with me. These two have been
horrible all evening."

"They've been horrible all day, Michelle."

"Oh, you have it so tough. I have to go run a bank branch all day. I
don't get to sleep until 9 and check email in my underwear." She
picked up the Cheerios, threw them in the trash can and said, "You can
clean up and get the kids to bed, I've had it."

Bill cleaned the kitchen, got the kids into bed, and went into the
bedroom. 10:03 and his wife was fast asleep. He shook his head and
went downstairs. He came up with an idea for a book over the
weekend. But in order to write it he had to get inside a woman's
head. He asked his wife some questions and she responded by accusing
him of writing filth and saying he ought to go to church more. Not
that she ever went. He hung out on an erotic web forum under a
pseudonym. Since it was related to the questions he had, he posted.

"Hi everyone. I'm an aspiring writer and I have a good idea for a
detective novel. Both the killer and the detective are women. I need
to get inside their heads. Actually I need to get inside their
uteruses and ovaries. :-P PMS and their periods play a huge part in
the crimes and is what leads to them being solved. I'd like to
discuss some points offline with a few women. I promise I'm not a
creep. I'm not going to ask you out or get gross with you."

He read some of the forum postings and decided he really wasn't in the
mood. He shut off his computer and went to bed.

Bill woke up. The house was quiet. Two half-full bowls of soggy
cereal sat on the kitchen table. He cleaned up. He constantly
offered to get up and help get the kids ready for school. Instead he
got lectured that he messed up her routine. If he helped brush
Emily's hair before she ate rather than after, it was akin to taking a
leak in the holy water font at the Vatican. He got tired of starting
his day off being yelled at, so he just slept and let everyone clear
out before he got moving.

Michelle had left him exactly 2 tablespoons of coffee. Not coffee
grounds, the liquid brewed coffee. He never understood why didn't
just finish it instead of leaving him too little to make a
difference. He rinsed out the pot and made more. While it was
brewing he checked his email. He pulled up his "secret" email
account, the one he used for his erotic sites. He had one message.

"Hi. I saw your posting. I'm a writer too. What's your story
about? I promise I won't steal it. I don't write detective novels.
You can ask me anything. I don't think you're a creep. I've read
your postings before. Maybe we can help each other out. I'm writing
a book about a man with a period fetish. I think it's neat when men
are interested instead of disgusted by a woman's body. Maybe we can
meet? You list your location as Euless. I'm next door here in
Bedford. I just show that I'm in Texas. I don't want to be too
specific. LOL! I had never noticed you were so close before. Small
world. I hang out at Metroplex Books Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
mornings. They have good coffee and free wifi. Maybe I'll see you
here?"

Bill couldn't believe it. What luck!

"Thanks for your response. Wow, two of us from the same part of
town. I'll drive over there tomorrow. What time? 10 AM? How will I
know you when I see you?"

He got a quick response.

"10 would be perfect. I'm usually the only one there. LOL. Business
isn't very good. I think they stay open only on account of me."

Bill spent the rest of the day working on the outline for his book.
At 3 he picked up the kids from the elementary school. He had dinner
ready just as Michelle was walking in the door. Bill was in such a
good mood he didn't let his wife's complaining about dinner get to
him. At least not too much. She ended up eating half a bag of potato
chips and a piece of Emily's birthday cake instead. She was in bed
snoring before 10.

The next morning Bill was up before Michelle left with the kids. She
made a sarcastic comment about it that he ignored. The clock seemed
to barely move. He didn't want to get there really early, but didn't
want her to think he was blowing her off. He timed it to show up
around 9:55.

He had driven past this particular bookstore before, but had never
gone in. It stood all by itself with an empty lot to the left and a
side street to the right. The place seemed dead. He parked and
walked up to the front door. He say they opened at 8:30. He thought
that was an odd time. He walked in. The bookstore was more coffee
shop than books. No one was at the front register. He caught a
familiar face.

IS THE REASON FOR FRAN'S LACK OF OUTRAGE AT HER ID BEING SPOOFED DUE TO
HER UNLAWFUL CONDUCT?

We've temporarily used a temporary id to overcome FRAN's killfile action
and to bring our reasonable comments to her attention

On 20/3/2022 09:23, FAKE Fran wrote:
>
> Bill spun his wedding ring between his thumb and forefinger while not
> paying attention to the speaker.  He was with his writers group which
> meeting weekly in the back room of a chain French restaurant.  His
> cafe au lait was cold.

On Sun, 20 Mar 2022 09:49:54 +1100, Fran wrote:

> IS THE REASON FOR FRAN'S LACK OF OUTRAGE AT HER ID BEING SPOOFED DUE TO
> HER UNLAWFUL CONDUCT?

What unlawful conduct?

> We've temporarily used a temporary id to overcome FRAN's killfile action
> and to bring our reasonable comments to her attention