Re: *Winter's Present* - serialized

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:
> 
> 
>              Winter’s Present
>                     .
>                Bryan Simmons
> 
>      Table of Contents
> 
> Silver    9
> Winter    23
> Fast    29
> Wearing White    49
> Sex Kitten    59
> The Party    73
> Turkey Claus    101
> Boy Talk    121
> Scorpions    131
> Ann    147
> Lady Bear    173
> Cinnamon Buns    189
> Sandy Beach    205
> Our Tricycle    235
> Queen of Love    249
> Art    279
> Pillow Talk    291
> A Pink Line to Burritos    297
> Making Love    309
> Solomon    317
> Wearing White Again    323
> Change is Hard    333
> The Letter    337
> The Vapors    365
> Performance Issues    373
> Somebody Else's Daughter    391
> Love Kiss    399
> Bigamy    411
> Equality    425
> Anniversary    439
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons
> 
> 
> This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall 
> remain nameless.
> 
Wearing White
"In most ways I've adjusted to having money, but it's still a little 
hard to pay for parking.  I used to park on Central, just north of the 
library and walk the two or three blocks," Ian said, as they drove into 
the parking garage.

Winter had dressed in all white.  She said that most of the other women 
would probably be wearing white, "and I just want to fit in."  Having 
gone by her parents' house, she had run in briefly to change, leaving 
Ian waiting in the passenger seat of the car.  Winter had insisted upon 
driving.  She said she'd be embarrassed to be seen in a car like that 
with a man driving, but Ian figured that she really just wanted to drive 
his zippy little car.  "They just left, so we're doing fine on time," 
said Winter, and Ian noticed she had also put on lipstick.

She drove fast, and Ian had pointed out, "You could get a ticket,"

Winter replied, "And you could get me a lawyer."

"True."

They entered the building through a metal detector, and approached the 
middle-aged, female officer at the information desk.  Winter had removed 
her jacket and handed it to Ian.  Her simple shift dress was stark 
white.  They inquired where, in Winter's words, "the place where you get 
married" was, got directions, and were told that the judge began the 
ceremonies in about thirty minutes.   Winter said to Ian, "I have to 
check my face," and turned to the officer, "The ladies room?"

When Winter returned, he said, "You look lovely."

Winter smiled coyly, and looked sideways at the cop, who said, "Your 
father's right.  You look lovely."

Winter's eyes got huge as she feigned shock, "Father?" she said, 
covering her open mouth with her cupped left hand and gasping audibly. 
Then, affecting a slightly rube-ish dialect and shaking her head from 
side to side slightly, "If you're my father we shouldna been doin' what 
we were doin' last night."

Ian almost fell over he laughed so hard, and after a second of shock, 
the officer saw Winter laughing as well, and she lost some of her 
dignified composure,  "You two have a great day."

They walked up the stairs holding hands to "the place where you get 
married" room, and peeked in, but no Eric.  They laughed some more, and 
agreed that if they were ever again mistaken for father and 
daughter--which was likely--they'd repeat the scenario from a few 
minutes earlier, because, Winter said, "That one could never get old."

When Eric and Chloe showed up, Winter said, "See, Ian?  I told you. 
Isn't she hot?"

Ian laughed again, and said, "Excuse me, but I think I have laughed more 
in the past 24 hours than in the last year."  Ian extended his hand to 
Eric and they shook firmly, "I'm Ian, the guy you're not going to kill."

Eric thought, "Yeah, he is older, but he's got a good grip."  Then Ian 
took Chloe's offered hand, and brought it up horizontally, holding it 
there for just a second, then gently lowered it.

Chloe glanced at Winter in a way that said, "You don't see that very 
often," to which Winter said, "He very likely would have kissed it, 
but," and making a fist, she pointed with her thumb, "Killer here's 
probably still got him a little spooked."  Ian buried his face in his 
hands and shook.

"It's alright, dear," Winter said, as she patted him on the back, "It's 
alright to cry.  It's a wedding."

With a gesture, Ian excused himself to the restroom, where he blew his 
nose into a paper towel.  He looked over at the mirror and thought, "I 
do look like I've been crying."

Eric walked into the restroom, looked at him and asked, "You OK?"

"I'm fine, I just had to blow my nose.  Is she always like that?"

"Oh, the jokes?  No, but she'll get on a roll, and it can last for days, 
then she gets intense about something else."  He paused, "So you're 
really doing this?  You're paying Winter to be your girlfriend?"

"Essentially, though she had a different phrase," Ian had started to 
laugh again, and he shared.

"What?"

"It was only one of many zingers she had, but yes, she agreed to be my 
pretend girlfriend.  Once the money was right, she didn't seem to have 
any reticence."

"Listen, I really want to talk to you about this, but after the wedding."

As they walked out of the men's room, Eric heard a familiar voice.  It 
was Chuck, from swim team, "Eric.  Long time, no see.  How you doin'?"

"Great, but I only have a few minutes.  Listen, I'm in town on break. 
Let's get together for some beers in a few days.  You won't even believe 
what's happened.  I'm getting married."

"You, what!?," and Chuck looked at Ian, then quickly away.  "You live in 
California now, right?"  Ian got it right away.  It took Eric a second 
or two, "No, dude, I'm not marrying *him*.   Come on, I'll introduce 
you."  They walked down the hall to where the girls were standing.

Chuck said, "Hey, Winter.

"Hi, Chuck."

Then Chloe turned, and Chuck looked at Eric, stunned, "Her?  You're 
marrying *her*?"

"Yep, in a few minutes."

Winter looked at Chuck and said, "I know exactly what you're thinking, 
but he saw her first and called dibs."

Everyone laughed, and oddly enough, it was Chuck who couldn't stop 
laughing.  When he did, he said, "We all assumed, you know, you never 
dated any girls or anything," and they laughed again.

"Listen," said Eric, "I'll call you, but I'm about to be late for my own 
wedding."

After the ceremony, Winter suggested getting something to eat.  She 
asked Chloe, "Do you like Mexican?"

"I grew up in California.  It's impossible to not like Mexican."

Winter asked, "Where are you parked?"

It turned out they were both parked in the garage, and Eric agreed to 
follow them to the taqueria.  On the short walk, Chloe asked, "So you 
didn't go out with any girls before college?"

"I don't know why that's surprising, you didn't date in high school 
either.  I didn't go out with any girls from our high school, at least 
not openly.  You've heard the saying, 'A gentleman doesn't kiss and 
tell.'  Well, I was a gentleman.  Besides, it wasn't just stupid dances 
or who's dating who stuff that I avoided.  I had close to zero to do 
with anything and everything in high school except the school work, with 
the exception of swim team, and that was only because I loved to swim." 
He shook his head, "I didn't realize that the guys thought I was gay." 
Eric thought for a moment, and couldn't remember any of the other 
swimmers seeming uncomfortable around him in the locker room or showers, 
and it pleased him.   "I bet Chuck made a few phone calls this 
afternoon."  Eric affected an exaggerated Chuck, "And you shoulda seen 
this chick.  She was hot, like *model* hot."

"I won't look much like a model pretty soon."

"You could be a maternity model," said Winter.  "They have those you know."

Winter drove reasonably, explaining to Ian, "Because we're being 
followed, and I don't expect you to hire lawyers for my whole family." 
It didn't take long to get there.  It was mostly highway.  Ian had told 
her that before the lottery he didn't eat at the taqueria often because 
the portions were small, and the prices kind of high, but before Julia, 
that was where he bought his salsa.  It was an odd time of day, so the 
place was almost empty, and they'd chosen a table in the far corner. 
The conversation was mostly about food until Winter had finally had 
enough, "So, which awkward thing do we talk about first?  Your pregnancy 
out of wedlock, or my new status as a courtesan?"

There was silence.

"No suggestions?  OK, I pick the more awkward one.  Let's talk about 
*me*.  I've been thinking about what to tell Mom and Dad, and I think 
that I shall tell them that I have been hired as the personal assistant 
of a well off older widower.  I will, of course, not reveal *how* 
personal my duties are to be.  I hate lying to them, but they'll be much 
happier not knowing.  They would worry, and speaking of worrying, I have 
one word for you, Eric, 'Don't.'  I know what I'm doing."  She looked at 
Ian, then back to the other side of the table.   "We've already had sex 
a few times, and that was good.  He's prepared me two delicious meals, 
and if I want, I can have a girlfriend on the side.  I know you're dying 
to know how well I'm being compensated.  I've done the math, and it's 
somewhere in the neighborhood of seventeen thousand dollars a week.  So 
you see, even if the working conditions were poor, which they're so far 
not,  I'd want to do it for a while, and this gentleman knows that it's 
up to him to make me want to stay for the full term that we agreed to, 
which is until my graduation.  It is my job to be so utterly delightful 
that he will also want to continue the arrangement throughout my college 
years."

Eric shook his head again, and said, "Wow."

"Yes," Winter continued, "'wow'.  Eric, I expect you to help me with Mom 
and Dad.  They know how protective you are of me, and assurances from 
you will go a long way.   You can tell them about Ian coming to the 
wedding, and about this lunch, and that Ian seems like a very nice 
gentleman, which I believe to be true, and you should as well.  If all 
goes as planned, in three and a half years, I will reveal the truth, and 
I expect that they'll be understanding.  Your turn."

Eric said, "Winter, I don't know what to say."

"Well, you could begin with how you and Chloe met, because we're through 
with the talking about me portion."

Chloe started.  "I'm a teaching assistant in the physics department, and 
Eric's psych class was in the same room, right after my class."   I 
noticed he was always waiting when class got out, and came in as my 
students were leaving.  It became obvious to me that he was always 
getting himself at angles where he could check me out without me being 
able to tell.  I finally told him that he wasn't fooling anyone, and if 
he wanted to have lunch with me, he should just ask, so he suggested the 
day after tomorrow.  We'd agreed to meet in front of the student center, 
and when I showed up, he was already there, and he had a quilt and a 
picnic basket.  He'd brought strawberries, Gouda cheese, a baguette, a 
spicy salami that he said was from home, and one of those aluminum 
sports bottles filled with sparkling wine."

Eric interjected, "I wasn't 21 yet, and nobody looks at those and 
thinks, 'alcohol.'"

Chloe continued, "We didn't know each other well enough to know what to 
talk about so we took the easy route, and talked about clouds.  It kept 
getting sillier and sillier.  At the end of the date, I suggested that I 
take the picnic basket, and I'd bring it back Tuesday."

"She made fried chicken.  If I wasn't in love before..."  Eric regarded 
Chloe affectionately.  "Then Thursday I brought stuff to make tacos, and 
we ate in the cafeteria because we needed the microwave."

"When Eric said, 'tacos,' he didn't add that he'd spent all morning 
frying tortillas and little pieces of tilapia, mashing and frying the 
beans he'd slow cooked all night, chopping lettuce, and making fresh 
pico.  We spent that night together at my apartment and he never left. 
That was early October.  A few weeks later, I told him I was late and he 
told me he'd never been happier, and asked me to marry him, and I said, 
'Yes.'  We even decided if I turned out not to be pregnant, that we were 
going to try."

"That makes what *I'm* doing seem so practical.  Don't you think so, Ian 
dear?"

"I already thought what you are doing is practical," said Ian.

Eric said, "Well, let's blow this taco stand then," and was the first to 
chuckle.

Winter said, "I bet you thought that up when we pulled in, and have been 
waiting impatiently to say it.  However, the rest of us have been 
conversing civilly while you were wolfing down your burrito."

Ian paid.  He told them that it was silly for anyone else to even 
consider paying, though Eric really wanted to at least contribute to the 
tip.  "When you've got the kind of money I have, it changes your 
perspective.  I'm not going to let it change the dynamics of relating to 
other people, and it would be less comfortable if you felt like you 
should contribute hard earned money, when mine basically just fell out 
of the sky.  I don't feel entitled.  I got lucky, and I don't want to 
keep that to myself."

"Ian means his luck, not his money.  He wants to be generous with luck," 
Winter looked at him inquiringly, "Right?"

Ian had to consider before answering, which he seldom did, instead 
thinking to himself, *"What is this creature called Winter?  How the 
fuck anyone could read a mind like she did?  And she did it casually, on 
the fly*."

"Sorry to mess up your taco stand thing, but before we leave, we need to 
plan.  Everything needs to hang together.  There can't be any 
inconsistencies.  They have to buy every word.   Ian needs to be 
explained to Mom and Dad like I said.  It has to come across as natural, 
and the last thing they'll think is what the four of us know to be true. 
  They think I'm lesbian, and just keep up the hints about boys to mess 
with them.  They'll never suspect for a minute if everybody is together, 
like, on script.   "Chloe," and she looked directly at Chloe, "You know 
how much we love our parents, right?"

Chloe merely nodded.

"I loved Dad almost right after we moved in.  I *decided* to adopt him, 
to make him my dad, even before they suggested it.  Calling him, "Dad," 
almost immediately wasn't just the silliness that Mom thought it was.  I 
knew this one was a keeper.  He'd do anything for her, and he had Bread 
records."

Chloe didn't know what "bread records" were, and she asked.

"Oh, Bread was this silly band that was over the top romantic.  They 
made Englebert Humperdink look like Tom Jones."

Chloe had no idea who either of those two were, but extracted some meaning.

"The point is this, Mom and Dad would be disturbed if they knew the 
whole truth, and I love them both, and so does Eric.  You know, we 
decided together, early on, that we would never do anything to get in 
the way of those two.  You see?  They're our heroes."  Winter stopped 
herself, but had to add, for Chloe, "Eric is Richard junior, and just 
like Mom, you chose well."

The bill was paid, and the exorbitant tip was on the table.  Eric was 
stunned.  Winter was really doing this.  As they left the restaurant, a 
gust of cold air hit him.  He hadn't thought in a while about Winter 
being named after the coldest season.  She was just Winter.  That was 
her name.  She looked right at Eric as she asked, "So everything's 
straight, right?"

  "Seriously, all on the same page."  She remembered words she'd read in 
a book she'd found lying around, but didn't say them, "Don't fuck up."


-- 
--Bryan https://www.instagram.com/bryangsimmons/

For your safety and protection, this sig. has been thoroughly
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"Most of the food described here is nauseating.
We're just too courteous to say so."
-- Cindy Hamilton