Changing Times

As I sat in my hotel room in Baltimore on a Friday deciding whether to call the escort service whose name had surreptitiously been given to me by a business associate, I had no idea what was in store for the future, near or long term. All I knew was that I had just gotten off the phone with my Chicago P. I. who confirmed what I had suspected for more than a month. My wife Jennifer was cheating on me. I had immediately gone to a local bank and withdrawn $4000 in cash.

It was only 4:00 p. m., I had concluded my business early and actually could have gotten a flight back to Chicago from BWI airport that night, but I needed time to think – and maybe get laid. They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die, or are having a near-death experience. I can believe it since my life flashed before my eyes then.

There are many things irrelevant to this story that definitely passed through my mind as I lay on my hotel suite bed, looking at the ceiling but not really seeing it – instead seeing a motion picture of my past. The things relevant to this story were:

–When I was ten my father impressing upon me the need to get a good education since he didn't think that my older brother or sister was up to the challenge of taking over the large business that he was CEO of, and which extended family members owned all of the stock in. He was pinning his hopes on me being competent by the time that I was twenty one to start working there with the idea that I would eventually take over. I promised him that I would.

–Meeting my wife Jennifer in college fourteen years ago when I was nineteen and she was twenty. Although it was not love at first sight it didn't take more than a month for me to fall for the tall leggy blond with the crooked smile, dancing green eyes, and big tits. Although we got busy fucking soon after we met, it took about six months before I believed that Jennifer had fallen for me too; even at nineteen I knew from experience that females treated males with money differently (aka insincerely) if they had even a touch of gold-digger in them. Since Jennifer knew who Ryan Carlington was – the Carlington name screamed megabucks in the Eastern half of the U. S. – I had to be careful.

–The happiness I felt the day that I got married about thirteen years ago, having already graduated college at twenty years of age with a degree in business administration and eager to start my married and business lives at the same time. How Jennifer raised sex to a new level during our honeymoon on Aruba, and how good life had initially been in the northern Virginia suburb of Washington, D. C. where we bought a house.

–The perhaps even greater joy I felt when my son Robbie was born eleven years ago, and my daughter Julie ten years ago.

–How hard I had to work, I believed successfully, over the last thirteen years to get Jennifer to adopt a low-key lifestyle so that we weren't stuck with only "high society" friends (most of whom I knew from the experiences my parents had were shallow as a small pond in Arizona in August), but could interface with "normal" people who didn't know about our rich financial situation.

–Having my character tested starting four years ago when I went to parent-teacher day for Robbie's second grade class and saw Brenda Robbins, his then twenty four year old teacher. How I had such difficulty first trying to figure out why I was so intensely attracted to Brenda – she wasn't classically beautiful, and 90% of hetero males likely would think that Jennifer was better looking – and how my twenty nine year-old ass could initially be turned into a tongue-tied teenager in her presence.

–My continuing difficulties in dealing with Brenda when Jennifer befriended her and she and her worthless-jerk-of-a-husband Barry visited our house often, and we participated in several activities with them – or at least Brenda when Barry couldn't be bothered since he was working on one get-rich scam or another.

–My business success in the family business when I led its second largest division to new higher levels of economic success than had been considered possible when I joined Carlington Industries, and my decision to accept the job of director of the largest division of Carlington Industries – headquartered in Chicago – two years ago.

–Losing touch with Brenda after initial concerns that Barry was causing her great difficulties, but ultimately thinking that losing touch with her was a good thing since I had never gotten over my infatuation with Brenda and I never wanted to act on it.

–How the first eighteen months in the Chicago area seemed to go ever-so-smoothly, and then how my relationship with Jennifer seemed to gradually disintegrate until I became more and more certain over the last six weeks that she was having both a physical and emotional affair with someone in our community.

–How I couldn't remember for certain the last time that Jennifer and I had anything but perfunctory sex, let alone the basically phenomenal sex that had characterized our first twelve-plus years of marriage.

All of these thoughts, plus many others not relevant here, passed through my brain dozens of times before I snapped into a sitting position and saw that the bedside clock radio said 5:14 p. m. I was always known for making quick decisions from the time that I was in High School until now at thirty three years old and the successful director of Carlington Industries' largest division. So I made one then.

I called the escort service, described the look of the woman that I would like to visit me for $1500 worth of overnight companionship, ate a quick dinner, called my kids before their dinner, allegedly in a rush when I got through talking to them so that I could only talk to Jennifer for a few minutes, and then showered and shaved getting ready for my prized companion for the night.

*************

Imagine my shock – in a real life is stranger-than-fiction moment – when I answered the knock on the door at 8:00 p. m. and there stood Brenda Robbins, except for a few worry lines in her face looking as good as the last time I had seen her about two years ago. We exchanged the trite surprised exclamations of "Brenda?" "Ryan?" before reality truly hit.

I saw tears forming in Brenda's eyes and also saw that she was about to bolt when she whined "There must be some mistake," and tried to take off. I regained my composure sufficiently quickly enough to grab her wrist and say "Don't go – we need to have a serious talk."

While Brenda was reluctant, she really didn't have any choice since I'm almost a foot taller and ninety pounds heavier than her five foot four inch, 115 pound self and I was determined to find out what caused her to appear at my door after I called an escort service. A bolt of realization hit me as I pulled her into my hotel suite and closed the door; as the physical appearance of the woman I had asked the escort service to send I had unconsciously described Brenda to a T.

As I stared into Brenda's red-with-embarrassment face, certain that mine was just as flushed, I knew that I had to quickly to put her at ease.

"Brenda, I'm not asking you to stay for sex; however, I'll pay your service just the same. Please stay here since there are a number of things we need to talk about; please!"

Her reply was a weak "OK."

We sat next to each other on the larger of the two couches in my suite ante-room. "Let me start by why I called an escort service. Then I'm going to want you to tell me why you're working for one."

Brenda nodded her head in assent, apparently trying to count the loops on the carpet rather than looking me in the eye, however.

"I've never, ever, used an escort service before. I was going to tonight for two reasons – I haven't had a decent sexual experience with Jennifer for months, and I'm as angry as I have ever been since I had confirmed today – just hours ago, in fact – that she's been cheating on me likely for the last two months. I don't know what the future holds for our relationship, but things are going to get really bad between Jennifer and me before they get better – if they ever do."

I was surprised by Brenda's response after a delay of a few seconds as she finally made eye contact, her big brown doe-like eyes wide open. "I hate to say this, but I often wondered if she'd cheat on you."

"Why do you say that?" I quickly queried.

"I...I...I'd rather not elaborate," she stammered. "Please can we leave it at that for now?"

"OK," I responded, "but only if you tell me why you're working as an escort.

Brenda cried a little; I wiped her tears off with a washcloth from the large ornate bathroom in my suite, and then held her hands. "I won't judge you, and everything is in the strictest confidence. I'll never, ever tell another soul without your permission," I said in my most earnest voice possible.

"OK," she sniffled, and then told her story.

While the tale was long and complicated, the salient facts that I needed to consider before making a decision on what to do were relatively simple.

While Brenda was still a second grade teacher in Northern Virginia, for the last four months she had also worked as an escort, only in hotels in Baltimore. Baltimore was far enough away from Northern Virginia that it wasn't likely that anyone in a hotel there would know her, but close enough so that she could drive up in sixty-ninety minutes. I was to be her sixth customer, and the second overnight one.

She was working as an escort only to pay off Barry's gambling debts with some bad people. Barry had gotten into more and more debt since I had moved to Chicago, and started illegal gambling. She wanted out of the marriage, but the gamblers made it clear that they were holding both she and Barry responsible for the debt. It was on the order of $48,000. Barry knew she was working as a call girl, but had no qualms about it if it could keep him from having his legs broken.

After she told her story she cried and cried, laying on my shoulder and soaking my shirt. Her consistent refrain was that she hated working as a call girl, Barry, and her entire situation. After half an hour of her soul-wrenching sobs, she finally had no more tears. I told her that I'd help her.

"But how can you help, Ryan?" she earnestly asked.

"You've never been privy to it, but I'm loaded – as in rich. There is no reason to have money unless you can use it for good to help those that you love," I replied, staring into her eyes. "Oh shit – I told her that I loved her," I suddenly realized – but I didn't let that stop me, I was on a roll.

"Not only am I rich, but the security team of the Washington, D. C. division of the company that I work for has some truly bad asses working for it – and I used to be their upper management boss, always treated them well, and they like me. Why don't you go home, and leave everything to me. I'll have everything settled by tomorrow night this time," I promised her.

"Really?" she must have asked a dozen times. Each time I responded "Really!"

"One thing, though, Ryan. I can't go home; Barry knows I have an all-nighter and if I come back early he'll really be pissed and I obviously can't tell him the real story of why I'm back. Can I sleep on your couch?"

"Hell no," I replied. "You sleep in my bed; I'll sleep on the couch."

She gave me a string of protests, but I'd have none of it. I told her that I'd go to the hotel pharmacy to get her a sleep-aid, and pointed out where the shower and robes were. She kissed me on the cheek as I left and my cock immediately went "boing!"

When I got back to my suite Brenda had just finished drying off and was reaching for the robe. I stood quietly and watched where she couldn't see me, and marveled at her awe-inspiring body; she must have left the bathroom door open on purpose, which really intrigued me. My view of her, plus the emotions that were exposed raw that night, gave me some clarity for the first time about why I was fascinated by Brenda.

The reasons for my fascination with Brenda were still hard to articulate but I could feel them – and they included her natural vulnerability, her actually perfect thighs and ass and perky little tits, her kindness, her loyalty (helping out her worthless shit husband even though he didn't deserve it and she had to sell herself to do it), and also likely her pheromones.

I made my presence known only after she had put on one of the hotel robes. I gave her the sleeping pill, she gave me a kiss on the cheek (another instant "boing!"), I tucked her in, and closed the door to the bedroom, after taking a pillow and blanket from the bed.

After phoning their present supervisor to advise him of what I needed, I immediately got on the phone with Harmon and Jack, two guys in security for Carlington Industries. Harmon is a muscular black man at least six feet seven inches tall and if not 300 pounds, close to it; despite his long arms he can bench press over 500 pounds and squat 700. Jack is a white guy only five eleven and about 200 pounds, but may be the only person he's ever met that Harmon would not fuck with – I can't remember all of Jack's service medals and martial arts tournament wins (if I ever knew them to begin with), but they legitimately would not fit on one typed sheet of paper, single spaced. Jack also has a "not-quite-all-there" look in his eyes that he cultivates, but also is at least half real.

Jack and Harmon met Brenda and me for breakfast at the hotel. It was only then that Brenda realized for sure that I really was going to help her. I rode with Brenda to her house and Jack and Harmon followed in one of Carlington Industries' tricked-out, bullet-proof SUVs. On the way I told Brenda that that day – Saturday – she should move out of the apartment that she and Barry shared. We would find a place for her that afternoon, find an attorney, and start divorce proceedings – on my dime.

"I can't let you pay for ..." she started to say. I cut her off.

"Brenda – I'm doing it, period. Swallow your pride. You're a friend in need, and I have the means to help. Issue settled!" Then I asked her about her present class of second graders, and she started smiling as she talked.

I had Brenda call ahead to make sure that Barry was there. He was.

"Hi Ryan, long time no see," he snickered when Brenda and I walked in. Then he saw Harmon and Jack behind me.

Declining his handshake I got in his face. "Barry; I'm going to make this simple. You're going to take Harmon, Jack and me to see your gambling buddies. I'm going to pay off your debt, Brenda is moving out, and you and she are getting divorced."

"You can't fucking dictate my..." he started to say when I punched him in the jaw as hard as I could. I asked Brenda, Harmon and Jack to wait outside, and then I lifted groggy Barry off the floor and pushed him against the wall with my elbow on his throat.

"Listen to me fuck-face; I've never liked you or how you treated Brenda, and I'm not fucking around with you now. You're doing what I say or you'll end up floating face down in the Potomac River," I growled, almost crushing his windpipe to make the point. When he got through coughing I asked "Understand?"

Wide-eyed he nodded "Yes."

I dragged him outside the apartment. Then as sweetly as possible I said "Brenda, please gather up everything you need from your apartment that will fit in your car. Anything else we can get later. We'll be back to take you to another apartment and to see an attorney, likely in less than two hours. OK?"

Brenda now realized that it was actually happening. "OK," she smiled.

***************

When we got to the building that Barry's "bookies" were in – if you could call them that; they were really more like extortionists who took bets – we didn't fuck around. I sent Harmon and Jack in first, followed by me virtually dragging a hand-cuffed Barry. By the time that Barry and I got inside Harmon had already knocked two thugs unconscious, Jack one, and Jack had his MP5 (like I said, we weren't fucking around) in the face of the obvious "boss-man" whose knees were rattling.

As Jack held his gun on the boss-man – who Barry said was called "Vinny" – I patted him down and removed the 9mm handgun from his waistband at the small of his back.

"Vinny," I said, "my name is Ryan Carlington, and these are my associates Harmon and Jack. I'm here to pay off Barry Robbins' gambling debt to you, and then explain to you what is happening next. So first get out your ledger sheet and tell me exactly how much this asshole owes."

After Jack removed the MP5 from his face, on shaky legs Vinny went to his desk and pulled out a ledger. "Uh...uh...with today's...uh...vig," he stammered, "It's $48,300."

"It's before noon Vinny – give it to me without today's vig."

"Uh...well...uh...its $48,100," he mumbled.

"What's your full name, Vinny?" I asked.

"Vincent Gambino," he replied.

"Just like Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinny," I laughed as I wrote him a check for the full, amount. After I handed the check to him I said "Now listen closely, Vinny, because as tough as you think that you are, Harmon, Jack and I are much tougher. If you ever – I mean ever, for any reason – bother, or even talk to or otherwise communicate with Barry's wife Brenda again you and your thugs will end up dead. Do I need to do something to let you know how serious I am?" I asked as I pulled a blackjack from Jack's waistband.

"No – no – no; I gots the message," Vinny gasped as he back-pedaled.

"Good; I hope never to see you again," I snarled. Then Harmon, Jack and I left – Jack aiming his MP5 inside the building until we exited. Barry came running after us.

"Hey, I need a ride back," he shouted.

"Take a cab, asswipe," I snarled. "And; if you know what's good for you, do not contest the divorce."

Harmon and Jack dropped me off at Brenda's apartment. I thanked them both with big hugs (Harmon almost crushed me), and gave them each $500 in cash, which they tried to decline but accepted when smilingly I told them that I would have to kick their asses if they didn't.

"Sure don't want that," Harmon guffawed, as Jack merely grinned.

***********

I helped Brenda load the final things that she wanted into her car, and then we immediately drove to the office of a local family law attorney that the general counsel of Carlington Industries had set us up with. The attorney's name was Susie Shark; not really, but it might as well have been; it was actually Susan Sharpton. I immediately liked her and her kiss-ass attitude. I gave her a retainer, Brenda and I signed a representation agreement with her, and she promised to have Barry served on Monday.

Then we checked out apartments near Brenda's school. We found an immediately available furnished efficiency. I put down the deposit and paid the first two months' rent, and we moved Brenda's stuff in that day. By then it was about 4:00 p. m. and I was starving, so we went to the best restaurant that was open and where we fit the dress code in our relatively grubby clothes, and had a pleasant meal.

Brenda questioned me about what I was going to do with Jennifer the entire time until the entrees were served. I provided some information – but I hadn't decided for certain. Finally I smilingly asked "Why the keen interest?"

Taking a sip of her wine she seriously stared into my eyes and said "Because I was enchanted with you before yesterday, and after yesterday and today I'm in love with you. If you dump her I want first crack at you. Two things I can promise you for sure – until we're in our seventies there will never be more than a couple of days that go by that I don't fuck your tonsils out, and I will NEVER cheat on you." Then she ran her foot up my leg. Another instant "Boing!"

I smiled – perhaps brighter inwardly than outwardly – just staring into her doe eyes, saying nothing, until our food came.