Tag: melodee

Wednesday’s Excerpt – Desert Heat


This week’s excerpt is from Desert Heat, book two in the Ike Payne Adventure series.


Shipwrecked on the desert world Nerumie, Princess Miranda and Jack are scouting for food when things go just a little wrong…

As they moved through the rocks, looking for roots and anything else edible, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that something watched them. The ferrous mogane ore in the rocks reduced both the range and the accuracy of his scanner. It showed no returns within fifty meters. He saw and heard nothing, but the hair on the back of his neck said the scanner, his eyes, and his ears all lied to him.

He watched the rocks closely as Miranda used a knife to dig out her treasures. He’d been ready to tell her how he felt back there when they rested. Just like all the times in the past when he planned to ask her out, he lost his nerve at the last minute. He covered by asking a lame question he’d asked her many times before. She probably thought him an idiot now.

Jack caught a flicker of movement high on the rocks to his right. A single small stone bounced down the side of the canyon. “Miranda, get behind me.” He flicked the safety of his rifle to fire mode.

You can read more about Desert Heat at these links:


Melodee Aaron’s Site


Siren/BookStrand Site



Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/10/10/wednesdays-excerpt-desert-heat/

Watching Amanda Grow

A small disclaimer…Melodee and Amanda don’t know about this. The first they will hear of it is when I post it to Melodee’s blog. I am honestly not sure of the reaction I will get. I gave up a long time ago trying to predict the reactions of those two. It’s a game I can’t win. So, I’ll just post it and hope for the best. JD.

A few days ago I went to a Father-Daughter Dance with our oldest, Amanda. It was quite an experience…

I won’t waste your time with details about the event itself. It was just a gathering of young girls (ages 10-17) with their dads as their “dates”. It was billed as being ‘semi-formal’.

Melodee gave Amanda one of her formal evening gowns. While it’s beginning to look like Amanda might soon be as tall as Melodee (Melodee claims she’s 5’9″, but she’s closer to 5’10”), she’s only about 5’3″ now. Needless to say, the gown needed some alterations, but Melodee has a great seamstress who fixed that right up.

Don’t ask me too much about the gown. I have no clue of the maker or even the cost. I know Melodee had the gown for several years, and she never buys evening gowns off-the-rack. I’d bet dollars to donuts that it is a designer gown and cost as much as the GDP of some small countries.

What I do know is that it is a soft lavender color with lots of lace, some kind of sparkly things, and a bunch of buttons and bows.

As for me, I planned on wearing a tie and a sport coat. As you might have guessed, that idea didn’t fly with either Amanda or Melodee. I ended up in one of my good suits and all the trimmings. In retrospect, I’m glad I did wear the suit. All the other dads went full tilt as well, so I fit in much better than I would have in a sport coat.

I have, of course, seen Melodee in the gown before…I think I saw her wear it two, maybe three times to events. But I didn’t see Amanda in the modified gown until we were about to leave.

Amanda will be 12 very soon, but she’s growing up fast. Even to me, she looks more like she’s 16 or 17, maybe even a little older. She acts more like she’s pushing 20. I’ll be the first to admit that I would be more than happy for Amanda to stay a little girl forever. I think that all fathers can relate to that and will understand where I’m coming from. But I also know that she won’t be that precocious kid for very much longer. Just because I know this, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The first time I saw the gown on Amanda was when Melodee and her walked into the living room as we were getting ready to go. She was absolutely gorgeous. Again, I want to remind you that Amanda is my daughter, but Melodee adopted her when we were married. When Amanda stood there in that gown, her hair and makeup just perfect and blushing just a little, it really hit me how amazing it is that Melodee and Amanda are from two different gene pools.

I don’t know how much “coaching” Melodee did, if any, but Amanda had the same grace, poise, and charm that Melodee has. Despite the blush, Amanda was totally in control and her self-confidence radiated from her like a beacon in the dark. She moved with the same fluid-like elegance that I find so fascinating about her mom.

And the whole thing made me outrageously uncomfortable.

Amanda and I walked to the truck and I helped her get in, the only time during the “date” where she showed any hesitation as she worked to get into the tall truck with a long gown, and we headed off to the event.

We rode a way in silence, but Amanda finally asked me, “Do I look alright, dad?”

I smiled a little in the darkness, but I doubt she could see that in the dim dashboard lights. “Yes, little one, you look amazing…very pretty.”

She didn’t respond for a while. “This is kind of weird, isn’t it?”

I can never lie to any of the women in my life. “A little, yeah.”

“If you would rather not go, I’m cool with that.”

I hesitated a moment, thinking about how uncomfortable I felt, but there was never any real question in my mind. “No, I want to go.”


I shrugged inside my Armani, but again I doubt Amanda saw it. “Because I want to show off my beautiful daughter to everyone I can.”

Amanda didn’t speak again until we were turning into the parking lot. “Thanks, dad.”

After I backed the truck into a spot, I asked, “Thanks for what?”

“For saying I’m beautiful.”

I had no answer for that, so I helped her down from the truck, and we went inside.

The dance was an odd mixture of old-school things from the time when I—and I assume most of the other dads—was in my teens and more current things that the daughters there could relate to. There was music from the 80s and 90s as well as the latest sounds from the more recent Billboard lists. There were soft drinks, tea, and even a big bowl of punch to drink, and various snacks to indulge in.

As I looked around the room, I saw dozens of pretty young women in gowns and dresses, some looking strangely out of place because I knew them more as tom-boys in jeans and flannel shirts with ball caps. Every single one of the young ladies was pretty in the extreme.

But more, I saw an equal number of adult men in suits and ties—some of them also looking out of place because many are better known and more often seen in the clothing of ranchers, farmers, and self-employed business owners. And every single one of the men looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

While the music was varied, almost all of it was slow, a concession made to the fathers in attendance who would likely be unable to dance to the faster numbers, and for that I was thankful. At least I was thankful until it came time to dance with Amanda.

I have danced with Amanda in the past. In fact, I have danced with her more times than I can even begin to remember. You know what I mean…she would stand on my feet as I moved around, her small arms reaching up to hold my hands as we crossed the floor. I remember what just seems like yesterday when she and I danced at the reception after Melodee and I were married, her little white dress spinning in the air as we whirled about and her face filled with childish happiness and laughter spilling from her lips.

But now, as we walked to the dance floor, things were very different. Amanda was no longer a little girl. She didn’t need to reach up to hold my hands, and the child was gone. As I held my oldest child and we danced to the slow tune, I realized that Amanda really is growing up.

The term “young woman” took on a real meaning, not just words to cover some unclear concept that no one really understands. While at 12, Amanda is still years from being an adult, she is equally as far from being a child. She’s caught someplace in the middle, someplace between the innocence of childhood and the reality of adulthood.

It was at that moment when two very important facts came into my mind…

First, I was thankful for Melodee being there. What do I know about molding a girl into a woman? How can I possibly understand the things that Amanda needs to know about being a woman? How could I ever hope to teach her those things, even if I knew what they are? Melodee is better able to do that than I, and she is doing a wonderful job of it.

And second, I knew that I have to get my desire for Amanda to stay a little girl out of the picture. I am convinced that my desires will get in the way of Amanda becoming the woman she can—and must—become. It is this fact that had been making me uncomfortable all evening. I knew, somehow, down inside that this was the point where I needed to let go of Amanda the child and see her as Amanda the young woman.

No, Amanda isn’t a little girl anymore.

But she will always be my Little Girl.


Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/02/19/watching-amanda-grow/

Life With Melodee — Part 7

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part Seven
A Dichotomy

1.    A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.

In many, many ways, that fits Melodee. A few examples follow.

Graceful – Melodee can move with a grace and flow that looks a little like oil spreading across water. Most men, myself included, are amazed that a woman can walk in a long evening gown. Add 4” heels to that, and we are dumbfounded. Melodee can look like she’s floating when she does it. Think about this: Ginger Rogers did all the same moves as Fred Astaire, but she did them in a long gown, high heels, and going backwards. You see my point. Melodee skydives and I have watched her. In free fall, she looks like a bird, probably a bird of prey, soaring and swooping with motions not unlike those of a ballet. When she lands, I have never seen her fail to plant her feet firmly and remain standing. In my time in Special Ops, I did more than my fair share of jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, and I didn’t do that every time I landed. I have seen people around Melodee drop things, and she will frequently catch the item in midair. She will just smile and say, “Reflexes like a cat.”

Klutzy – Sometimes the best description I have for Melodee’s motions is that they remind me of watching a bird. You’ve seen birds flit and flutter around, darting from one place to another with fast, jerky movements. That’s Melodee. She will often bump things with her arms or hips. She’s well known for turning suddenly and running into the person walking behind her, or even into walls. She stumbles a lot over things that most people would just step over. A while back, Melodee broke her ankle. She was wearing 5” heels and she knows that I like the way the heels make her legs and butt look, so she was walking just a little sexier than she normally does. Melodee will tell you that she stepped on a rock and that twisted her ankle, but I was walking right next to her, close enough that I didn’t have to move to catch her when she started to fall, and I didn’t see any rocks on the sidewalk at all. Truth is, she was preoccupied with prancing and tripped over her own feet.

Intelligent – Melodee has five doctorate degrees: Physics (Theoretical), Math (Theoretical), English (Literature), Electrical Engineering, and Mechanical Engineering. While having an education does not make a person intelligent, you can’t be dumb and do that. She talks about things sometimes that I can’t even spell. After all, I’m just a dumb swabby. I’ve seen her sit with top scientists and keep up with them. She helps the kids with their calculus homework…in her head. Melodee usually knows what I am going to say about two weeks before I do. And she does that to everyone. I used to wonder if she might be psychic, but I know now that’s not the case at all. Melodee is so bright that she is always running the odds of events happening in her head, and she can predict just how likely something is to happen with good accuracy. I’m not sure that she even knows that she does that. Honestly, it’s a little scary.

Ditzy – Melodee sometimes gets that deer in the headlights look. When she does, it’s clear that she has no clue about what’s going on around her. In the middle of a conversation, you’ll look at her, and you know she’s totally lost. I’ve had a number of theories about what was happening with that over the years. One was that she was playing the “Dumb Blond” part for some reason. Another was that she really just wasn’t getting it. For a time, I thought that maybe her deafness was causing her to miss a turn. But I’ve come to believe that Melodee will drift off in her mind to some other topic and just simply loses track of the conversation. She’s not really ignoring you…she just had some thought that grabbed her attention away.

Conservative – Politically, Melodee is about two steps to the right of Rush Limbaugh…maybe more. She believes in a small, limited government, particularly the federal government, and she believes in little, if any, taxation to support that government. She favors a strong defense and military, and firmly believes that the best defense is a strong offense. Her idea of diplomacy is something like, “…if you don’t straighten up and fly right, we’ll nuke you back to the Stone Age.” She has precious little patience for tyrants, dictators, liberals, socialists, and deficit spending.

Liberal – Melodee also hates a number of traditionally conservative positions. For example, she supports same-sex marriage, but in a round-about way: Melodee believes that government has nothing to do with marriage and that marriage is a function of the churches. If a couple wants to be married, that is up to a church. And add to that the idea that any group of two or more people should be able to enter into a contract that gives the group the rights and privileges that are now associated with a “legal” marriage. In other words, not only does Melodee support same-sex marriage, she also supports polyamory and multiple marriages.

I’d better stop here. I have to sleep with Melodee.

Or not!


Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/02/06/life-with-melodee-part-7/

Life With Melodee — Part 6

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part Six
The Girls

I’ve spent a good deal of time in this series talking about Melodee and my daughters, Amanda and Debbie. This time, I’m going to talk almost exclusively about the three in general and specifically about how they interact in ways that have changed my life.

Mostly for the better.

I’ve already said that Melodee, Debbie, and Amanda all sort of took to each other from the very start. This is especially true for Melodee and Amanda. It’s sometimes hard to believe that they aren’t actually from the same gene pool, and they are so much alike that it scares me sometimes. This is especially true when you understand that Amanda is not quite 12 right now, and she’s already acting enough like Melodee to make me nervous. At any rate…

I really don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, I started to call the three women in my life “The Girls”. I have to admit that I stole the term from some of Melodee’s books. Those of you familiar with her Immortal Love Universe will know that the Emperor (Jim) refers to his four wives (Marilyn, Janelle, Tanya, and Paige) as The Girls. And yeah, The Girls is always capitalized.

The Girls all love to shop. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that they live to shop. I knew before Melodee and I became a couple that she was a shop-o-holic, and Debbie and Amanda soon followed suit. It still fascinates me, though, that many of the shopping trips The Girls take don’t actually involve buying anything. They all seem happy to just look, try on new outfits, and go through every pair of shoes and every purse in the stores. Except for the jewelry stores.

When Melodee and I got together, Amanda had her ears pierced. That was it. Now, Debbie has 3 piercings in her ears and Amanda has 5. That’s nothing compared to Melodee’s 7 in her ears and a few, well, extras. Amanda has even asked about getting her tongue pierced. The answer was no. I would guess that between my two daughters, they had maybe a total of a dozen rings, necklaces, bracelets, and other jewelry items. Now they probably have 100 or more pieces. Each. But even at Tiffany’s, they all tend to look at a lot more stuff than they buy. Thank God for small favors.

And then there is the food and drink thing. There was a time that the only thing Amanda and Debbie would drink was Coke or Pepsi. I at least weaned them over to diet. On the other hand, Melodee rarely drinks anything other than tea (both iced and hot). Amanda and Debbie absolutely hated tea in any form. Now, The Girls go through more tea than the entire English Navy and Army combined. Amanda and Debbie turn their noses up at soda. The good news is that The Girls have all transitioned over to decaffeinated tea.

As for food, Melodee has, as far as I know, always hated fish and seafood of any kind. It’s funny, but she will eat tuna salad now and then. Amanda and Debbie like fish and seafood. We often go, as a family, to a little diner down the road a couple of miles, and they have nightly specials. On Friday, as is tradition, they have a “Seafood Trio” that consists of shrimp scampi, a hunk of grilled salmon, and a couple of cod fillets. They also have the “Fish Fry” that is three of the cod fillets with slaw and French fries. Melodee has taken to ordering the Fish Fry and she actually likes it. Sometimes, she will steal a few bites of the salmon from Debbie or Amanda. She hasn’t worked up to the shrimp yet.

Someplace down the line, the dress code also changed. Melodee used to have exactly three modes of dress: (1) Jeans and Tee Shirt, (2) Formal Wear, and (3) Super Sexy. Since becoming a mom to a pair of prepubescent girls, Melodee has only changed her style of dress a little. In most ways, she has simply combined #1 and #3 above. She has also added a fourth group that I like to call “Casual Mom”. This style usually consists of The Girls all dressing alike. And that worries me sometimes.

Melodee has a closet full of what she calls her Little Black Dresses, or simply LBD. Now, Amanda and Debbie also have several versions of LBDs. The three also have several other matching outfits. While Debbie is still very much a little girl (she’s only 9 now), Amanda is becoming a young woman. Yeah, I hate that. And while Amanda will not likely be as tall as Melodee, it’s getting easier every day to get them confused.

A lot of the above are things that I admit to having some mixed emotions about. I sometimes wonder if our daughters are growing up too fast, but that is probably just me wanting them to be little girls forever. After all, that whole boy and dating thing really bugs me. But there is one area that is absolutely positive, and that is the fact that both Amanda and Debbie have good ideas of what they want to do with their lives now.

Debbie has always been interested in life science and biology. She loves all that stuff, even if I don’t understand any of it. She’s still undecided on exactly what specific area she wants to go into, but she’s floating someplace between medicine for people and medicine for animals. In other words, she can’t pick just now between being an MD or a DVM. Either would be great as far as I’m concerned.

Amanda on the other hand is also floating between two careers, but maybe not as desirable in the eyes of some parents. She loves the guitar and music in general. Some days, I think she’s decided on becoming a rocker. But, like Melodee, Amanda loves to write and tell stories. I have this feeling that when all is said and done, Amanda will do both and be a songwriter. Maybe a little like Jim Croche or Tom T. Hall telling stories with her songs. As for me, I’m good with that. I think either or both would be good for her. Again I admit that I really don’t care to watch Amanda doing some of the same moves as Nancy Wilson while she plays the guitar.

And that brings me to the real bottom line of all of this.

Melodee has been a great and positive influence on my daughters. No, let me correct that…Amanda and Debbie are OUR daughters. Melodee is teaching them the things that a young woman needs to know. I mean things like respecting and loving themselves, how to pick a good man while avoiding the bad ones, and how to care about other people. Most importantly, Melodee is teaching them that there is nothing they can’t do if they want it and are willing to work hard to get it.

And all three of The Girls are learning how to love from each other.



Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/02/03/life-with-melodee-part-6/

Life With Melodee — Part 5

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part Five
The Countdown

In Part 3, the installment before my Random Recollections in Part 4, I talked a little about the first “date” Melodee and I shared. This time, I want to tell you about the months following that night.

We went out a few more times, usually to the Viejas complex. In addition to the casino and all the things there, the tribe also runs an outlet mall across the street. Melodee is a shop-o-holic, and she loves the place. There are a ton of shops for clothes, shoes, jewelry, and more. Neither Melodee nor I gamble much, so a typical trip was eating at one of the restaurants in the casino, or one of the fast food joints at the mall, and then going shopping. We often took the girls along, and they were becoming as much of a shopping junkie as Melodee. Interestingly enough, most of the shopping trips didn’t include actually buying anything. It seemed that the girls were all happy to just wander around the mall and shops. Other than the place that sells the most wonderful fudge I have ever tasted. We always bought something there.

Other times, it would be just me and Melodee. Sometimes, we would go further down the mountain to Alpine or even to the city itself, and would have dinner someplace, maybe going to a nightclub for some drinks and dancing after. In general, I was having a great time just being with Melodee. More than six weeks had passed since that first “date”, and we still hadn’t had sex. The funny part is that the fact not only didn’t bother me, but it seemed somehow, well, natural.

It was on one of those nights that we left the girls with Maria and came down to the city that Melodee went into one of her Blunt Modes. Melodee will, as I said back in Part 4, pretty much say what is on her mind. I had taken to calling these her Blunt Modes. I thought nothing she could say would shock me. I should have known better.

Melodee had a taste for Outback that night, so we went to the one on Lake Murray in La Mesa. We were sitting on the patio so I could smoke my pipe, and the food was, as always, good. We were sharing a Chocolate Thunder From Down Under when Melodee sat down her spoon and frowned. Usually Melodee uses sign almost exclusively. As I said way back in Part 1, Melodee has a bit of a speech impediment and prefers to sign most of the time.

But this time, she spoke out loud. “Jack, why haven’t you tried to get in my pants?”

As I coughed, I swear a bit of chocolate chip came out of my nose. “What?”

She shrugged a little. “Well, we’ve been going out for more than a month and a half, and I’ve dropped every hint I know how, but you don’t seem in any hurry to fuck me.”

I don’t want to give the impression here that I’m some kind of super-sensitive guy, because I’m not. All I could do was tell Melodee how I felt. “I guess that’s not as important to me as just being with you.”

“Oh.” She was still frowning, but a smile slowly came to her face. “Well, just know that you wouldn’t have to try very hard.”

Melodee has this entire repertoire of smiles. I’ve mentioned the one that’s kind of like dawn charging over the mountain. She has one that’s a little shy, almost like a little girl. Then she has the one she used on that night, so full of passion and fire that it could melt a hole through two-feet of steel from a mile away. That smile can grab the attention of any man at any time, and could probably leave him a gibbering idiot if Melodee decided to do that.

It was all I could do to pull my eyes from her mouth and look at her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She winked at me. “Good.”

When we finished eating, we decided to go to a nightclub not far from the Outback for a couple of drinks and some dancing. On the way there, Melodee sat next to me and kept licking my ear. I think I only ran one stop light. Almost as soon as we had found a table and had our drinks, she pulled me to the dance floor. Even on the fast dances, Melodee was moving in delightful ways, flexing and writhing her body to the beat. When we danced close, her in my arms against my chest, Melodee still moved, rubbing against me and running her hands up and down my back.

At some point, I’d learned that Melodee could understand me if I used my fingers to make signs against her body, and I had also some skill at reading her doing the same. I signed on her back, “Hey, are you trying to seduce me?”

She signed back, “That depends on how hard I have to work at it.”

I chuckled a little, but it sounded nervous even to me. “What do you think?”

“Based on other hard things, not very.” It was true. Between the looks she gave me and all the touching and rubbing, I had an erection, and I knew Melodee could feel it as we danced. She leaned back from my chest and looked up into my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

Way back on that first date, the idea that the kids were in the house didn’t bother me too much. Then again, we didn’t do a damned thing that night. Now, for some reason, the fact that my two daughters would be asleep in their rooms down the hall troubled me. Not enough yet to stop us from getting out of the nightclub, mind you. We went out to the truck, and Melodee snuggled up to me, putting on the center belt. As we pulled out of the lot and onto the street, she put her hand on my chest and signed, “Call Maria and have her take the girls to her place.” Yeah, Melodee was thinking clearly enough to solve that problem.

No, I’m not going to go into all of the details about the rest of the night. It’s Melodee’s bit to write the erotica and such, not mine. All I’ll say is that we got home about 10:30 and didn’t leave her bedroom until after noon the next day, and that I had trouble walking for two days and couldn’t concentrate for several more.

The next day, we decided to talk to the girls. It turned out that they were far more up to speed than we thought, maybe even more than we were. Amanda, the oldest, told us that she knew we were a couple and that we would be spending “a lot of time together”. God, I hope she doesn’t know what that really means! In short, the girls were okay with us being together.

More later.



Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/30/life-with-melodee-part-5/

Life With Melodee – Part 4

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part Four
Random Recollections

As I sat here planning what to write about next, it dawned on me that I have left out a lot of strange things that happened over the years between when I met Melodee and when we admitted that we were in free fall for each other. In an effort to correct this, I offer the following random comments and thoughts.

June Cleaver She Ain’t

Not even close. In fact, Melodee is a horrible housekeeper, and a worse cook. I don’t think Melodee even knows why she is so bad at these domestic activities, so she usually just says that she never learned how to do them. But let’s be honest here…using a broom, putting an empty glass in the sink, doing the dishes, and even running a vacuum aren’t really skills that have a steep learning curve. Even cooking isn’t all that tough if you can read (and Melodee can read very well, even if at blinding speed that makes me dizzy to watch her flip the pages) and follow directions. I think that cooking and cleaning offer nothing to hold her attention. She would rather do something interesting, and since she has no inhibitions of any kind, Melodee pretty much does what she wants to do when she wants to do it. Maria (Melodee’s long-time housekeeper and cook) forbids Melodee from even going in the kitchen unsupervised. Yes, she has nearly burned the house down more than once. The girl could screw up Cup-O-Soup!

Speaking Of Inhibitions

Melodee has none. Not a one. And I am not just talking about sexual inhibitions here. She will say anything that is on her mind to anyone. Just as one example, I saw her tell a now former President of the United States that he was a “dumb-fuck” and that he should “grow a pair of balls or put on a dress”. And this was at a White House reception with maybe 2000 of our closest friends around. On the sexual side, she can be a little hard to swallow sometimes, no pun intended. When “in the mood”, she will do just about any thing in just about any place. She has gotten us tossed out of a few of those places. Take the time that she used liquid latex to paint on her “clothes”. She was totally nude, except for her shoes, and had painted on a shirt and pair of jeans. She strolled right through the lobby of a major hotel and into the bar like she owned the place. And then there is her habit of playing “dress-up” on a regular basis. She likes the schoolgirl look. And the nurse. And the policewoman. But I think her favorite is to dress up like a cat. Sometimes Melodee likes the big cats, particularly tigers and cheetahs. Other times, she goes for the house cat look. And it can get a lot more, well, complicated. Not that I’m complaining.

Gun Play

Melodee grew up in the country, and like most country folks, she knows how to hunt and how to handle a firearm. She’s a fair shot with a rifle, and she won’t kill herself with a handgun…probably. At one point, I decided that, for security reasons, Melodee needed to be armed. She explained to me that she would not carry a gun. She gave up hunting long ago, and didn’t want to have a gun in her purse. I can, and did, respect that, so I convinced her to carry a can of pepper spray. She put it on her key ring and had it in her purse. One evening, a bunch of us from the company were having a dinner meeting at Melodee’s house, and she decided she needed some gum. She walked to the side table where she had tossed her purse when we came home earlier that day, and reached inside. After a moment of fumbling around, the pepper spray went off. I still don’t know how it happened, but it did, and she effectively maced everyone in the room. I decided that maybe the pepper spray wasn’t as good of an idea as I had thought, so I got her a stun-gun. Again, it went in her purse. For those men smart enough to avoid a woman’s purse, you can’t believe the amount of stuff in there. Most of it we men prefer not to imagine. We were at a book signing in Chicago and Melodee reached into her purse for something. Next thing I knew, she was on the floor flopping around like a fish out of water. Somehow, she had armed and triggered the stun gun with one hand in her purse. After that, I carry the weapons and just stay close to Melodee.

Economic Stimulus

Melodee is a shop-a-holic. I think she even has a union card to prove it. She has a particular addiction to high-end jewelry. The staff at Tiffany’s knows her by name and on sight. And I mean the shop in New York. She spends a lot of money on clothes and shoes as well as jewelry. For a long time, I wondered about the clothes and shoes part, but I found out what was going on after we were married. She buys a lot more clothes and shoes than she has in her closets. At the rate she shops, she would fill the house up in a matter of months, and I never saw any Goodwill or Salvation Army trucks around the place. It turns out that she donates most of the “excess” to a local charity. Some they sell, some they give to women to wear to job interviews or to work. The transactions are very low profile. The real downside is that both of our daughters are catching the shopping addiction from their mom now.

Attention Junkie and Pusher

Melodee likes to be the center of attention. See above for more. I think that a huge part of her lack of inhibitions goes right back to this fact. By being flirtatious, outspoken, and all the rest, she gets the attention that she craves. But it’s a two-way street with her when it comes to attention. I shower a lot of attention on Melodee, and I’ll even admit that I spoil her. Usually not with “things”, because she’s pretty well got all of that, but with a touch or a word. I mentioned in Part 3 that I had, without thinking, picked a little wildflower for her, and she sort of melted. Well, I still pick flowers for Melodee. Mostly for exercise, I walk the perimeter of our property every day. That’s about 4 miles. Along the way, pretty much all year round, I can find a few little wildflowers to pick and bring home for her. She loves the attention, but she gives it back to me. Melodee is my second wife, though I really believe that she is my first true love. But that doesn’t mean that I haven’t dated in the past. I have never had a woman as in-tune with my mood and needs as Melodee is. I don’t know what a “soul mate” is, but maybe being so connected is part of that, but I think it’s also possible that the giving is just a part of Melodee. It’s who she is.


Melodee has a good deal of baggage. I won’t go into the details of her childhood other than to say that through a rather nasty chain of events, she was addicted to drugs at a very young age. This addiction has, as it does with all addicts, stayed with her for all these many years. Over all, I think she’s done well for herself despite being in various states of recovery since her pre-teen years and being deaf. There was even a period when she worked as a hooker to pay for her fixes. Since I have known Melodee, she has had one relapse to the drugs, and I mentioned that in an earlier part of this series. But, since we have been “together”, she has stayed clean and says she has no desire to use again. I believe her.

Hell Hath No Fury

Some people who know Melodee only casually have the opinion that she angers easily. The reality is that she is more of a “slow boil” person. She will sit and stew until she finally has had enough, then she blows up. The reason for the confusion, at least as I see it, is because Melodee is so outspoken. She will tell you (or anyone else) exactly how she feels, and she lacks anything even close to tact. If she thinks an idea is stupid, she will say so, usually in close to those words with a few of the infamous deleted expletives tossed in. If a person keeps harping about something that Melodee has already identified as a stupid idea, she will, usually, tell them to just shut the fuck up and go the fuck away. Her harsh words and course manner can easily be seen by some people as being angry. I get that. But those people have never seen Melodee really angry. I have. Several times. Maybe Melodee is atypical, because she doesn’t get angry like most women I have known over the years. She doesn’t cry or get sullen. Melodee doesn’t throw things. When I think about it, Melodee’s anger is more like that I have seen from many men. Melodee yells, cusses like a sailor (actually, I am a sailor, and she uses words I never would in public!), and she will punch someone if they are too close. She paces a lot, too. I have never seen her hit a wall or other immovable object, but I think she just might under the right conditions. Trust me…you do not want to be on the wrong side of her anger.

The Inner Mommy

Shortly after we were married, Melodee legally adopted my two daughters, Amanda and Debbie. The girls already loved her as “Aunt Melodee” and the transition to “Mom” or “Mommy” was easy for all three of them. On April 26, 2008 Melodee gave birth to our son, Jack, Jr., or JJ. There were some concerns, mostly by Melodee, that JJ might be born deaf as she was, but everything is just fine with him. Interestingly, he learned to sign before he learned to speak. Now, he does both, and the simple truth is that he is much better at sign than either the girls or I. He is the only one in the house who can keep up with Melodee when she is signing at top speed. Well, other than our dog Tripper. He’s really good at sign, too. I know the trip of being a Mommy hasn’t been easy for Melodee. She will sometimes fret about never hearing JJ cry and missing his first words. She gets equally down because she can’t hear the girls call her “Mom” or tell her that they love her. But she manages. A good friend and colleague of ours is a ham radio operator, and he’s a wizard with electronics and radio, and he put together a little system using old pagers. The kids and I all have a little box with a button on it that we can press. That sends a signal to a pager that Melodee carries, and it vibrates to alert her, and the display tells her who is calling for her. JJ was able to use his to call his Mommy by the time he was a year old. There is an old saying that I heard once that any woman with normal biology can be a mother, but it takes someone special to be a Mommy. Melodee is a great Mommy.

Fantasy Island

I guess this mostly for the men reading, and that’s alright. I know I’ll catch hell from the women reading, but I always had the opinion that men had a larger sexual appetite than women. I don’t know if that’s valid opinion or not, and it doesn’t matter. In my experience, I was always the one who was ready to have sex anytime, anyplace. I had to talk my woman into the idea. Well, I learned something about Melodee very early, even before we were “together”, and that is that she has a healthy and strong sex drive. She enjoys sex, is creative, and very open. Once we started really “dating”, I thought that was wonderful and that, maybe, I had died and gone to heaven. A bit later, I found out that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Simple biology is that men are not multi-orgasmic, at least not in the long term. And then there is Melodee’s “30 Second Rule”. One day she bet me that she could take me from nothing to climax in under 30 seconds. I admit that I don’t have the staying power of a porn star, but 30 seconds seemed a little fast to me, so I took the bet. Nothing happened the rest of the day, just normal routine things around the house. About 6pm, Maria took the kids to her place for the evening to watch some TV and play some games. About 6:30pm, Melodee pretty well jumped me on the couch. The bad news is that I lost the bet. The good news is that the loser had to get on top for the rest of the session. Melodee’s philosophy on sex seems to be that she’ll try anything once, twice if she likes it. I haven’t found anything that she has done only once.

Well, that’s about all I have for now.


Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/29/life-with-melodee-part-4/

Life With Melodee — Part 3

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part Three
The Flames

This time, I’m going to talk a bit about the things that led up to Melodee and me falling in love. No, that’s not really correct, because I think we’d been in love for a long time before we admitted it to ourselves and each other.

As I said before, my two daughters and I were living at Melodee’s house, and everything was working out well. Melodee’s housekeeper, Maria, would watch the girls when I had to leave town with Melodee on trips, and if I had to go someplace alone, Aunt Melodee would take care of them. The girls learned sign language, both the standard ASL and Melodee’s own special version, much faster than I did. I chalk it up to them being kids and so information sponges.

Melodee was still dating other people, and it was still making me nuts sometimes. Yes, I was still rationalizing my irritation as being concerned about her safety. Yes, I still knew it was bullshit.

It was about that time that I noticed a change in Melodee. She stopped dating and became more withdrawn. She spent long hours talking with a man on the Internet in chat rooms and via email. I wondered what was going on, but she would deny that anything was wrong. I found out that the man she was in contact with was doing a tour of duty in Iraq, and then things got really weird. Melodee started asking me if I knew of anyone who could get her to Iraq to meet him. I tried to impress on her how dangerous that would be for her, but she wasn’t interested in any of that. She wanted to go.

I didn’t mention that the man was also married. Any of you who know much about the military will see the problem here. For a married officer, having an affair can end a career. Whether it was that fact or just that the man really is an officer and gentleman, he talked Melodee out of the bad idea of going to downtown Baghdad for vacation.

Personally, I think it was the latter that motivated him.

Just days after this all happened, we had a tour on the US east coast. Melodee hates to tour, but she went anyway, and she became more and more isolated. She snapped at everyone, and even walked out of an appearance. Somehow, she got past the security people and pretty well vanished for several hours.

I had gone back to the hotel to see if she was there, and was just about to call the local police when she walked into the room like she owned the place. And it was clear from the instant she walked in that she was so stoned that she could barely walk.

I’ve mentioned that Melodee has a history of drug abuse, but she had been on the wagon for about 4 years. When she fell off, she fell off hard. At the risk of getting an assault charge, I shook her down and found a rather large supply of drugs and the related paraphernalia. I also found the name and phone number of the pusher who fixed her up.

I doubt they will ever find him.

To make a long story short, we got her home, cleaned up, and back on her feet.

Melodee continued her contact with the man in Iraq, but he made it clear to her that he wasn’t going to leave his wife. You have to keep in mind that Melodee is used to getting what she wants. Call her spoiled if you like, but she was not a happy camper about that. She went off on him, and later, after she effectively hung up the Internet on him, she went off on me. And all I was doing was having a glass of milk before bed.

I had learned a long time before this night that the worst thing I could do when Melodee was in a mood like she was in was to actually say anything. So I just listened as she ranted. Actually, I watched, mostly. She was so mad that she couldn’t speak, so she used sign. At one point she said that the man had told her that she needed to find a good man who was available, and suggested that she go out with me.

I almost choked on my milk, at least at first. I had pretty well worked up my nerve to ask her out before she started her online dating affair, but then backed away. So, I decided in an instant that it was now or never.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “So, would you go out with me?”

Melodee stopped pacing and stared at me for a moment before she signed, “What? Like on a date?”

I shrugged again. “No, not really a date. Just go out for a couple of drinks and dinner and maybe some dancing. You know…nothing about business, just friends out for a good time.”

She laughed. “Oh, like fuck buddies?”

I actually did spray milk out of my nose. “No! Just friends.” I’ll admit to more than a few fantasies about her.

It was her turn to shrug. “Sure, why not?”

We decided to go to the local tribal casino at Viejas the next evening.

We more or less avoided each other all the next day. I really don’t know if that was intentional or not, but Melodee and I didn’t see much of each other until it was time to leave at about 6pm. Maria told me that Melodee would be out in a minute, so I went to get the car. Truck, actually. A Ford F-250 with a crew cab. Melodee likes trucks. I pulled the truck up in front of the house and was about halfway up the steps when Melodee came through the door.

Before I go on, I want you to remember that I had been living in Melodee’s house for more than a year and working for her for more than 4 years. I’d seen her in everything from jeans and a tee shirt to evening gowns that cost more than the GDP of some countries. I’d seen her in swimsuits that weren’t much more than a few square inches of lace and some string to baggy sweatshirts and footy pajamas. And she has the habit of running around the house after she showers in nothing but a towel. I already knew that, somehow, Melodee made them all look good. Maybe I’m biased on that part.

She was wearing a yellow skirt that was far enough above her knees and tight enough that I couldn’t help wondering how she could walk in it. Added to the skirt was a black top that left like a mile of her waist exposed. She had her hair down to its full length just past the middle of her back, and she had added shoes that had at least 4-inch heels. Melodee is tall. She claims she’s 5’9″, but she’s closer to 5’10”. I know because I’m 6’9″ and the top of her head was level with my eyes. Not that I was looking at the top of her head.

I can remember that the only thing I could come up with to say was, “Hi.”

She smiled that dawn-breaking smile of hers and said, “Not tonight.”

We got in the truck and drove the 10 or so miles to the casino. I couldn’t even speak and I was afraid to look over at her for fear of wrecking the truck. As we walked through the casino to the restaurant, every man we passed stared at her. No, it didn’t bother me, but I still don’t know why. All I knew at the time was that I didn’t blame them.

After dinner, we went over to the nightclub in the casino, and we had a few drinks. Between the wine with dinner and the drinks at the bar, I was at least able to talk to her. Until then, I don’t think I had said more than a dozen words. I managed something like, “You look nice tonight.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I hoped you’d like it.”

“Yeah, I do.” I needed another drink. Or ten.

She laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. I recall wishing she hadn’t done that, because my mind sort of kicked into neutral then. “Are you going to ask me to dance or what?”

I honestly still don’t know how Melodee can dance. She’s totally deaf, but she keeps in time with the music somehow. She says she can feel the vibrations, but I don’t know. Maybe she’s in better tune to that than I am, but I can’t feel anything. But I asked her to dance, and we went to the dance floor. The band played two fairly fast songs, and we danced to them, only holding hands most of the time. Then, the band shifted gears to a slow dance. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and headed for the table, but Melodee grabbed my hand. She frowned and signed, “Where are you going?” Without waiting for an answer, she moved into my arms and wrapped hers around my neck. By now, my brain couldn’t find any gear, not even neutral, so I just followed her lead.

I had danced with Melodee before at various business gatherings. I often went to such events with her as her “date”, but I was actually her bodyguard. The fact was that this was different. Those past events were, well, business. This was pleasure. Before, I was focused on the crowd, watching the people there. Now, I was focused on Melodee.

As the song played (it was “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” originally by Aerosmith. Yes, I remember that.), it felt right somehow. Melodee rested her head on my shoulder, and she did something that, at the time, I couldn’t follow at all. As we danced, she pulled her right hand from around my neck and rested it on my chest, and was signing with her fingers. I couldn’t understand her, though, and I told her so. She just smiled and put her arm back around my neck.

After the song ended, we went back to the table, and sat down. I had my hands on the table in front of me, and she reached over and took them in her left hand so she could sign with her right. “I was trying to tell you two things out there. First, thanks for bringing me here tonight.”

I guess my brain was working a little better. “No, thank you for coming with me.”

Melodee smiled. “And it felt really good dancing with you.”

“I could say the same.”

She laughed. About then, the waitress came around, and Melodee changed from the mixed drink she had to iced tea, and I followed suit. I realized that I didn’t need booze to build up my nerve. I just needed to relax. Melodee wouldn’t bite me, at least not unless I wanted her to.

We talked and drank tea for a long time, sometimes taking a break to dance a little. As the night wore on, I think we both relaxed a lot and became more comfortable with each other. We also spent a lot of time just staring at each other. I won’t even try to guess what Melodee’s thoughts were, but mine were that maybe this attraction I’d felt for her for so long was something more than simple attraction.

It was after 1am when we decided to head home. As we waited for the valet to bring the truck around, Melodee held on to my arm and rested her head on my shoulder, and it felt great. As we pulled out of the casino, Melodee told me to take “the other” way home.

There are 2 ways to get between where Melodee lives and the casino. The fast way is to take Interstate 8 from the East Willows Road overpass to Highway 79. The “other way” is a dirt road called Viejas Grade Road up the mountain and through Descanso. So, I turned and made my way through the reservation and started up the grade.

It was a clear and moonless night, and there were at least a million stars in the sky. I’d known for a long time that Melodee loves the night sky, and it didn’t surprise me at all when, about halfway up the hill, she asked me to pull over so she could look at the stars. I pulled over on a wide spot and shut off the truck and the lights, and we stepped outside. Melodee fumbled in her purse and pulled out a little LED flashlight with a red lens, and we walked to the back of the truck and I let down the tailgate and spread a blanket on the bare steel. I lifted her up to sit on the blanket, and without thinking, I leaned over and picked a freeway daisy from the side of the road and handed it to her.

In the red light, I saw her face get a funny look, like she couldn’t believe that I was giving her a flower that didn’t come from a florist. For a moment, I thought that I had offended her somehow, broken some rule known only to women that said unless the flowers cost $40 a dozen, they aren’t worth having. But Melodee slowly smiled, and took the flower from my hand. She signed, “No one ever picked a flower for me before.” She slipped the flower behind her ear, and then patted the tailgate next to her. I sat down beside her, and she leaned against me. We just sat there for a long time, watching the stars and not speaking. We only moved to point to the occasional shooting star as they passed through the darkness.

I felt Melodee shiver, and I asked if she was cold. She nodded, so I helped her down and we got back in the truck. I started the engine and started to put the truck in gear, but she touched my hand. When I looked at her, Melodee took a deep breath and took the flower from her hair and put it carefully on the dash. She leaned over and kissed me.

Things got a little blurry after that. I know we set there in the darkness making out like a couple of kids at the drive-in for more than an hour. I can’t remember either of us saying much of anything, and truth be told, we didn’t get much past “first base”. What I do know for sure is that Melodee felt wonderful in my arms and her lips tasted delicious.

It was pushing 3am when we finally came up for air and decided that we should get home, and all the way there, we held hands and Melodee used the center seatbelt and sat next to me. I just parked the truck in front of the house and we went inside. We peeked into the girl’s rooms and they were both sound asleep.

All the way home, I had been wondering what to do when we got there. Okay, I’ll admit that I wanted Melodee. To this day, I have no idea why we didn’t have sex in the truck, but it seemed right just kissing her. Once we got home, I thought things would be different. I know there are some reading this who will fuss about my kids being in the house, but I wasn’t thinking about that.

I walked Melodee to her room, and she opened the door. She turned to face me and smiled, though it looked a little shy, something I had never seen from her before. She asked, “Would you like to come inside?”

I didn’t even think about it. It was like I had planned it all, and rehearsed the lines, and knew exactly what to say to her. I reached up and put my hand on her cheek. “No, we both need to think about this and what happened.” I kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Melodee.”

I walked down the hall toward my room.

By the time I got to my room and closed the door, I was ready to kick myself. I don’t know how long I was in the shower (cold, by the way) before I noticed that I still had my socks on. But sometime around when I laid down and turned out the light, I realized what had happened.

At some point over the last five years, I had fallen in love with Melodee. The fact that she was acting an awful lot like I was told me that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.

I slept very well that night, and I had wonderful dreams about an amazing woman.


Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/26/life-with-melodee-part-3/

Life With Melodee – Part 2

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part Two
The Early Years

Back in the early days of my life with Melodee, it was very much an employer/employee relationship.

I admit that I was attracted to her from the moment I met her, but as I have said before, I was married and had a young daughter, Amanda. Even though my wife and I had problems, I take a great deal of pride in the fact that I never cheated on her. Not once. I guess one could say that, as Jimmy Carter put it, I did “lust in my mind” a few times, but I never acted on those thoughts.

Melodee and Diana gave me a free hand to set up things as I saw fit on the security side of the coin. I got rid of the contracts with the security companies and hired our own people. Most were old friends and others from the military. Some were special ops people, others were military police types, and a few were new to the idea of security but they had potential. I had teams in place at Melodee’s house and to go along on trips. It was all working very well. Things went smoothly and Melodee was past her fear of going out in public again.

I know it was only because I felt attracted to Melodee, but the fact that she dated other people bothered me. I tried to rationalize that irritation as her being alone with someone was a security risk. That was, and I knew it then, total bullshit. I was envious of her dates at best. I was just plain jealous at worse. There was even a time that I tried to talk her out of going out with a particular woman because I was worried about her being exposed to risks. I even offered to go along to “protect” her. Melodee just laughed and went anyway. Alone.

I don’t think I mentioned that Melodee was bisexual. She had just as many dates with women and she did men. Yeah, that bothered me, too.

I remember one turning point in our relationship, though.

One of the guards at the house had a baby, and he needed a few days off to be with his wife and new son, so I covered for him. Melodee’s property has a fairly large lake, and she was down on the boat dock laying in the sun working on her tan. I used the excuse of keeping an eye on her to tag along. Actually, I rationalize a lot. I couldn’t resist watching her in her bikini. I really was keeping an eye on her.

I had stood up from my chair to get some iced tea, and Melodee decided to stand up for some reason. Being ever the officer and a gentleman, I went to help her up. I had her hands in mine, and as she tried to stand, her bare foot on the towel she’d been lying on, the towel slipped on the wooden dock and she started to fall. Without thinking, I grabbed her under the arms and more or less picked her up and we ended up in what could easily have been seen as an embrace.

So there we stood on the dock, my arms around Melodee’s waist and hers had moved up to circle my neck. Our faces were maybe 6 inches apart as she stared up at me. I imagine that my face was at least as slack-jawed as hers looked to me. We held that position for what seemed like minutes, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. I knew I should say something, but I couldn’t think of anything, let alone something neutral.

Melodee recovered first. A smile that was like dawn breaking spread over her face and she said, “Thanks. I could have broken my neck.”

All I could say in reply was something like, “You’re welcome.”

We let go of each other and went about the rest of the day like nothing happened.

A couple of years after I went to work for Melodee, my marriage fell apart completely and for the last time. By then, Amanda was pushing 3-years-old and I had another daughter, Debbie, who was nearing 1-year-old. I didn’t fight for the girls in the divorce, instead settling for a pretty much standard shared custody deal where the girls stayed with their mother. I would often bring the girls up to Melodee’s place for the weekend so they could be outside and enjoy the fresh air out of the city. The girls both fell in love with Melodee and she with them. They called her “Aunt Melodee”. There was no secret that Melodee liked to party. She had some drug issues that she worked hard to keep in remission, not always with great success, but she tried. But she was great with the girls, and I couldn’t help but think that Melodee would make a great mom one day.

One evening, I was again covering security at the house, and we had just finished dinner. Melodee and I sat at the table in the dining room and sipped at some wine. Melodee is nothing if not blunt, and she asked me, “So, Jack, when are you going to take the girls away from your ex?” I told her that a single man who traveled as much as I did to work with her would have pretty much zero chance of getting full custody. Melodee just shrugged. “Maybe. You and I both know that Paula [my ex] is a tweaker.”

I could only nod. I’d known that Paula was using meth, but I’d rationalized that she didn’t abuse the girls. Looking back now, I understand that neglect is just a subset of abuse. I was wrong and I put my girls at risk because of my mistakes. I’ll never be able to make that up to them.

Melodee only smiled at me. “It takes a junkie to know a junkie. You need to get the girls away from her.”

I can’t remember what it was now, but something interrupted us and we wouldn’t return to the conversation for some time.

As time went on, Melodee and I became friends. We shared a lot of laughs and some sad times, too. How could we not? We were together a great deal of the time, and we were deeply involved in each other’s lives.

I thought a lot about asking Melodee to go out with me, but it seems like every time I worked my nerve up to actually asking her, she would find some new flame and I would back off.

When Amanda was 4 and Debbie 2, I finally decided, with Melodee’s support, to get custody of the girls. It was surprisingly easy, too. All my ex cared about was the child-support money. I just agreed to keep sending her the money, and she signed the papers giving me custody and her visitation rights.

But that created a new problem: I had a single bedroom apartment in Alpine, about 10 miles from Melodee’s house, and I needed to find a new place to live.

In her typical offhand manner, Melodee said, “Hell, that house is way too big for me. You and the girls can move into my place. We’ll probably never see each other.”

And so, Amanda, Debbie, and I all moved into Aunt Melodee’s place.

Next time I’ll talk about how Melodee and I fell in love, or at least how we came to know that we’d been in love for a long time already.


Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/23/life-with-melodee-part-2/

Life With Melodee – Part 1

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part One
How We Met

I met Melodee more than 12 years ago now. I was working for the Secret Service after leaving the US Navy, and hating every minute of it. Melodee’s agent, Diana, approached me and said she was looking for someone to provide security for Melodee while she was both on the road and even at her home in Southern California. Exactly how Diana found me or got my information, I still don’t know. Frankly, it sounded like fairly easy work and the money Diana offered was pretty good, so I agreed to an interview. I flew from my home in Washington DC to San Diego, and a shuttle van took me up to the mountains where Melodee lives.

I have to say I was unnerved when we reached Melodee’s house. There was a high fence and a gate and a guard shack. The guard was a standard security guard type from one of the companies you frequently see, but he was armed and he checked a list as well as my ID before sending us up to the house. I wondered why Melodee needed me if she already had private security in place.

Diana met me at the door, and was very cordial, as she had been in our many telephone conversations. She ushered me in to a sitting room and introduced me to Maria, Melodee’s housekeeper. Diana and I chatted for a while and then Maria came in and whispered in Diana’s ear. Diana rolled her eyes and told me that we would need to wait just a while longer because Melodee was “tied up” for the next 30 minutes or so. Diana took me outside and we wandered around the property a little. I was impressed with the size of the place, especially for Southern California. I guessed that Melodee had about 200 acres and that included a large lake, tennis court, and much more. Add to that a large house, and I couldn’t help but ask how many kids Melodee and her husband had. Diana told me, in a very matter-of-fact manner, that Melodee was single and had no children.

Diana stopped walking for a moment and added, “I don’t think I told you that she’s deaf.” At the time, I didn’t know a single thing about sign language or deaf people. I asked if Melodee could read lips. Diana just smiled and added, “Yes, better than you can read words.”

We went back to the house since we’d been gone about 30 minutes, and Maria told us that Melodee would be out in a few minutes, and she would meet us on the patio. Maria brought out a big pitcher of iced tea, and we sat there watching the birds for a while. About 30 minutes later, Diana excused herself and went in the house to find Melodee. Some 10 or so minutes after that, Diana returned and assured me that Melodee would be out to join us in 5 minutes.

In another 15 minutes, I could tell Diana was getting agitated. She again went inside. Maria came out to check the tea, and I asked her if, maybe, Melodee was writing and couldn’t stop in the middle. The old Hispanic woman smiled and said, “No, Melodee just runs on what I call Melodee Time.”

Diana returned and again apologized for the delays and said Melodee would join us very soon now. I noticed the lack of a time frame, but I did check my watch. We chatted for a while, and we were even treated to a few squirrels and rabbits running through the yard along with a wide variety of birds at the feeders and in the trees.

Exactly 19 minutes later I heard someone coming toward the patio from inside the house, and I suspected it wasn’t Maria. Maria had moved with an easy grace and almost no sound. Yes, I notice those kinds of things. When you do time as a SEAL and in the Secret Service, noises are a big part of the even bigger picture. Whoever was coming was actually thumping, like they hopped on one foot.

I was right, too. The young woman who came through the door from the house to the patio was indeed hopping on one foot. She was tall, maybe 5′ 9″, and slender with long blond hair past the middle of her back. She wore a pair of white shorts that looked like they had been painted on and a red bandanna-print top that was tied around her chest. And she hopped on one foot trying to get her left sandal on.

I need to tell you that I was married at the time. Things weren’t all that good, and my wife and I had separated on 2 occasions, but I was still legally married. That doesn’t mean I was dead, though. This woman was a knock out. I also knew it was Melodee because a number of hand gestures flashed between her and Diana, things I couldn’t read. The last gesture Melodee made to Diana I did understand, though. She extended the middle finger of her right hand toward the older woman.

Finally getting her shoe on, the young woman stopped in front of me and extended her right hand. She smiled and I was nothing less than enchanted. As I stood and took the offered hand, she spoke to me. It sounded something like, “Eye. Eye-mm eloee. Ood ou m ou ack.” Honestly, I could only barely understand her speech at all. I assumed that she offered some kind of greeting, so I stayed with something neutral.

At least as neutral as I could be. Her hand was warm and soft as I held it, and it tingled a little. Again, that’s the kind of detail that you notice in my line of work. Add to that the fact that a very pretty young woman who I had never met was standing there for a supposed business meeting with far more skin exposed than she had covered, and I was lucky to be able to talk at all.

As the three of us sat and chatted, I could see that Melodee and Diana kept up a running conversation in sign language, just slight motions of their fingers, and facial expressions. That was more detail I filed away in my mind for future reference. As we talked, I found it was easier and easier to understand Melodee’s speech, but I had to listen carefully. The problem for me came in because to really listen to her, I had to stare at Melodee’s face, particularly her lips. I have called her “pretty” up above, but I found that wasn’t a strong enough word. Maybe beautiful is closer, or perhaps gorgeous. I had to fight to keep from getting some kind of sappy look like an idiot on my face as I watched her speak.

But there was far more than just good looks to this woman. She had an air of confidence and self-reliance around her that seemed to gather power from time to time. She was clearly very intelligent, and would even venture off into things about which I had no clue. But the thing that caught my attention the most was that Melodee was very relaxed, not unlike a leopard lounging in the sun. It was that moment that I made connection in my head between Melodee and the woman in the old Hollies song Long Cool Woman…”…tall walkin’ big black cat…”

The blend of this confident attitude and gorgeous exterior was intoxicating. I think Melodee knew the effect she was having on me and rather enjoyed it. It was also then that I began to think that maybe she could read minds.

Finally, I had to ask why they needed me. They already had security. Melodee made a flickering gesture toward Diana, and the older woman spoke. “We mostly need to fill a gap for when Melodee is on tour, but it makes no sense to have two security groups in place.” I wondered about that. Surely the places she visited provided, or could provide, private guards if needed, but I really didn’t see much need for it. Diana added, “Last year, we had an event at a signing, and Melodee was attacked. She’s scared to go out there again, I can’t blame her.”

I remember frowning and wondering why someone would attack an author, and I guess my puzzlement showed on my face, because Melodee smiled and said, “I was stabbed by a woman who thought my romance novels were being written to steal away her husband.” Melodee stood up, turned away from the table, untied her top, and lowered the back to show me a large scar on her back from a knife wound.

I really don’t want this to sound bad, but it probably will. I couldn’t focus on the scar. Melodee just exposed even more skin than she already had exposed, and I could see the curve of her breast as she stood with her back to me. Like I said, I wasn’t dead, just married. I was also really distracted. I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to put her top back on or take it the rest of the way off. I had mixed feelings about both options.

It hit me as I watched her putting her shirt back on that I was dealing with a woman who had tremendous drive, a ton of ambition, was very intelligent, and who had no inhibitions at all. If nothing else, the job would be both interesting and challenging. I like both.

We talked for another hour while Diana and Melodee kept up their own side conversation using sign language. I saw Melodee make a slight nod.

Diana smiled and said, “So, if you want the job, it’s yours.”

I’ve been here ever since.

Next time I’ll talk a little bit about my early days with Melodee. It’s been a fun ride.


Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/22/life-with-melodee-part-1/

A Hello and Info

Hello, there.

I’m the “Jack” Melodee talks about and pokes fun at from time to time in her blogs, Tweets, and FaceBook posts.

Yes, I’m the guy Melodee is married to.

To make a long story short and to keep myself out of trouble as much as possible, it’s an interesting job. Fun, but interesting.

Melodee has been pestering me to edit and repost a few entries I made on her old blog some time ago about what it’s like to live with her.

Interesting but fun, too.

So I am working on that. I’ll probably edit a few and then post them, then some time will pass before I get back to working on more of them.

In the meantime, I think maybe it’s my turn to poke some fun at Melodee.



Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/22/a-hello-and-info/