Mrs Codd

CHAPTER 1

It was after midnight and snowing. The lights of the restaurant in the small town on Long Island turned off and Gus the proprietor embraced his night manager and wished Mrs Glade Banks well.

"Once again I ask," said Gus. "Where will you relocate?"

"I've told you. I'll decide when I go to the airport tomorrow."

"You're burying your past, aren't you?"

"Yes. Goodbye Gus."

Glade walked off, her footsteps punching through new snow that had began falling almost four hours ago and now it was just after 1:00. At present and for a long time there had been little joy in her life. She intended changing that.

Next morning Glade entered the terminal and heard an elderly couple ask a security guy which way to catch a flight to Los Angeles. The officer pointed the couple to a woman in a United Airlines uniform.

An hour later Glade, now calling herself Miss, dropping the title Mrs, boarded a near-full flight and left for LA, burying her past. She'd moved into the town on Long Island eighteen months earlier and four months later married Mark Glade who owned a vehicle-servicing center. Mark was now serving time for bigamy, Glade's marriage being nothing more than memories and a scrap of worthless paper. She'd been left virtually broke and worked at Gus Little's restaurant seven days a week until she'd saved $10,000, often working double shifts. After her bank balance exceeded her target Glade felt financially secure enough to move away to begin a new life.

The attractive 27-year old carried her coat, blinking in the bright LA sunlight, and fished out sunglasses.

"Jules?"

Well, that was an original pickup line Glade thought. She replied politely no, that was not her name.

"I'm supposed to meet Jules Johnston, my new personal assistant from New York. She is tall and blonde."

"Well good luck," Glade said.

The kind-faced guy of 50-something smiled and said thank you.

Minutes later the guy walked by escorting a tall blonde. He swung back and said, "Miss, may we drop you off in the city?"

"Well..."

"No strings attached. I'm just been polite. After all you could have said go away you creep."

"Indeed but then I was reared to be polite. Thank you, I accept your offer."

Glade, of course, had no idea she'd just met her next husband, Frank Guthrie Codd, a millionaire insurance broker.

"I'm Glade Banks."

"Glade, what a pretty name. I'm Frank Codd and this is my niece I haven't seen in almost ten years, Jules Johnstone."

"Hi Jules, how did you find your uncle?"

She laughed and said she did what her mother had suggested and looked for an overweight guy in a striped suit and diagonally striped tie looking for someone."

"It worked." said Mr Codd. "Call me Frank girls." He escorted them to a black Mercedes car in a no-parking zone and tipped the official standing beside it.

"Sit in the back together girls. Jules you said you were nervous about coming to LA and knowing only me, and then only vaguely, and a handful of relatives. Well you now know Glade who is your age."

"I'm twenty-seven," said Jules.

"Ditto," laughed Glade. "I'm the victim of a bigamist and have fled the shame and the snow of New York to begin a new life."

"Oh my dear," Frank said. "What a damn shame."

"Yes," Jules said, "How horrible for you. Where are you staying?"

"I'll find somewhere. I went to the airport this morning not knowing where I would go but thought something would come up. When I entered the terminal I heard someone asking directions for the flight to Los Angeles so thought something had come up."

"Oh how brave of you. I could never do that," Jules said.

"Is this guy in prison?"

"Yes Frank, with another eighteen months to go."

"Glade, may I invite you to stay with us for a while until you find your feet? There is a permanent house keeper and a cook so you won't feel alone and I'm sure Jules would appreciate the company."

"Oh yes, please accept Glade."

Glade moved in and stayed in that house for eight years.

A month after arriving at Codd Mansion as Frank called it, Jules was invited away for a weekend and for the first time Glade went out alone with Frank. He termed it 'an auspicious occasion'.

It was certainly astonishing for Glade because over the table at his club Frank picked up Glade's hand and declared he'd fallen head over heels in love with her.

"Please don't call me a stupid old fool."

"No, never would I do that Frank. I admire you. You are courteous, generous and even-tempered. I cannot fault you but I don't love you -- how can I? We barely know one another."

"We see each other every day. You have grown on me Glade. You are beautiful and charming. I watch the way you move. When I run my eyes over your body I have that woman's complaint, hot flushes."

Glade giggled and said that was lust. "So this is about sex?"

"Yes but more than that. I have fallen in love with you."

"You are confusing desire for love Frank. Well if you must know I do admire you, so if you'd like a night of sex well so would I. It has been some time for me and I rather like it."

"Two nights -- Jules is also away tomorrow night."

Glade smiled and said, "Down boy. Don't get too keen."

On the way home Glade asked, "This must stop after tomorrow night. I don't wish Jules to know about this."

"She already knows."

"Frank, that is impossible. Nothing has happened yet."

"I've confided my feelings about you to Jules when she said she'd be away this weekend. She said then what a perfect opportunity for me to make my pitch. She said you like me."

"I would have preferred had you not said anything to Jules."

"Well I'm glad I did. I would have been too nervous to make the pitch without her support."

"Oh Frank."

"Oh Glade."

"No I meant oh Frank, should we be doing this?"

"Of course we should -- boy or rather old man likes girl. Girl can tolerate old man and is spiritually lonely. So they merge."

"Oh what a lovely way of putting it. Frank, we have been drinking. We may end up disappointed."

"Oh yeah," Frank said, turning to make sure Glade saw his leer.

The first thing Jules said after greetings were exchanged on Sunday evening was, "Did you two make it to bed?"

"Y-yes," Glade said bravely and Frank looked at her admiringly.

"Nice one uncle. I'd like you two to sleep together every night. You'll be good together. Who knows, it may lead to bigger things."

Well it certainly gave Glade a new life. She was introduced to Frank's business and social friends including friends of his wife who'd died during medical misadventure two years earlier.

Two months later Frank married Glade at a civil wedding attending by 120 guests including the parents of Jules who was chief bridesmaid.

The couple insisted Jules stay on living at the house and she agreed. Frank worked into the evening whereas she left the office at 5:30 so she and Glade would then go shopping or to the beach or take in an early film. If they went to the theatre they always went as a threesome and then that because a foursome when Jules found a university lecturer in anthropology called Mark Sloan.

Sadly, six months after the wedding Frank collapsed and died running up the stairs of his office.

After grief-stricken Glade regained her composure she drove Jules to the airport. Jules had been dumped by Mark and so decided to return home.

"Why don't you come back with me?" Jules pleaded yet again.

As expected she received the same answer, "No, my life is here now. I am giving you a gift I can easily afford and you are to accept it without any fuss. You befriended me on my first day in this city and as a result of that I got my confidence back and then landed well and truly on my feet."

Jules looked at the check for $500,000. "You shouldn't have."

"Well I have so shut up darling."

Half an hour later at security they cried into their final farewell and pledged to stay in touch.

Glade tipped the official and drove off from the VIP area feeling she was beginning yet another life. She parked as soon as she could outside of the airport and wept, feeling alone again. Well it was now up to her, wasn't it? She nodded and dried her eyes.

* * *

Glade's attorney had estimated she would be worth between $70-$75 million after probate. A partner had already purchased Frank's majority stockholding in the business. Glade was so sad that Frank had been addicted to making his fortune and had been loathed to spend time enjoying it on world travel and being in pursuit of other things. It was also sad he'd not been able to father children. She accepted he liked nothing better than being engaged in the pursuit of legitimately taking money off other people and that of course is how fortunes are assembled.

The first task facing Glade after the funeral was to appoint a person to act as her business and social secretary. Glade interviewed eight people that the agency had short-listed for her and chose an elderly widow who lived close by. It was a perfect arrangement because during mutual downtime Mrs Guy, Olga the young cook and Mrs Monk the housekeeper played cards and drank red wine.

Glade regarded that appointment, her first independent business decision, as perfect. She established a bank account from which Mrs Monk had authority to draw $20,000 a month to allocate to worthy causes from begging letters that came in. Should those letters dry up Mrs Monk had authority to allocate available funds to the charity or charities of her choice.

Genuine suitors or charlatans had been calling from two days after the funeral but Glade found her own men, usually at the club where widows were eligible to continue their husband's membership. She took up tennis lessons and swimming lessons at the club and was attracted to the athletic tennis coach, as were many women. His name was Rodney Beamish and he was took an interest because he'd never heard of a woman called Glade and when she laughed he caught the eye twinkle and then when she came out for the first lesson and he saw her great legs he focused, oh how he focused. Two days later he called Glade.

"I can't stop thinking of you. Complain to management if you wish."

"Why would I want to do that? I'm flattered you have noticed me."

"You are?"

"Yes, I'm looking for a male to stay the night. Drop around if you are interested."

"When?"

"Why waste time, tonight. I was told you were not currently in a relationship."

"Correct, so you checked up on me?"

"Yes but didn't know what to do next."

"When you came out in your outfit I thought wow."

"You must think that about a lot of women clients?"

"I do, but when you bent over to pick up a ball I thought oh momma mia."

"I have been told I have great legs and a great ass. Don't be too long coming Rodney. I mean don't be too long coming to my place. Here's the address and my phone number."

"I have it. I'm your tennis professional, remember?"

"Oh yeah."

* * *

Glade took the powerful looking cock in her hands and gave its underside a gentle lick down to Rodney's hairless balls.

"What do you think?"

"As far as cocks go it's almost beautiful."

"Thank you."

She giggled, "My pleasure, I hope."

He grinned. "You have a lovely home."

"I do, recently inherited, but I suppose you have checked up on me and know that?"

Rodney said yes.

"I suppose you go into many lovely homes and apartments of clients requiring extra service?"

"Some, yes, but I turn down more requests than I accept."

"Wear a condom before shoving this beautiful thing up me."

"It's my practice Glade. Would you care to get your mouth around it?"

Later when Rodney sank his missile into her Glade groaned in delight. Right at that moment she thought she was where she wanted to be in life.

Rodney returned twice a week for six weeks before he indicated he wouldn't be returning.

"What, am I that much of a bore?"

"No far from it although you won't give me your butt. You don't give me expensive gifts or money."

Glade was rather angry to hear that. "Why pay for it when it's widely available for free?"

"I'm a high cut above the pack," Rodney said loftily.

"Kid me not Rodney. Off you go. Oh, cancel my booked lessons.

"Goodbye bitch."

That miffed Glade. She considered she'd done nothing to deserve that title. Ah well, he was only a guy whose life revolved around tennis.

A thought struck her: what did her life revolve around? Well, until a minute ago it had been revolving around sex twice a week with Rodney Beamish.

Three days later Glade was sitting in the office of the dean of Frank's former business school that had lost contact with him over the years. There had been few bequests in his will and his business school that had launched him on his career had not been one of them.

"How much in donations did this college receive in the past financial year Dr Mitchell?"

"Oh Mrs Codd, please call me Judith. The figure was $1.7 million, not one of our better years I regret to say."

"My late husband was a former student here."

"I did take the liberty of looking up students of your husband's name there is only one Codd recorded, Frank Guthrie Codd and has been out of touch with us for years."

"Frank was my husband. He was too busy making money to give it away. Do you have a building project planned?"

"Several but the next one due to start is construction of the planned permanent main entrance to our MBA center."

"If I were to donate to that project generously could it be named The Frank Codd MBA Center? Frank came back to this college well into his career to complete an MBA."

"Just a moment Mrs Codd."

Dr Mitchell put on her glasses and brought up Frank's record on her laptop. "He did indeed Mrs Codd, completing it eleven years after gaining his master's in business administration. I don't wish to appear rude but how much have you in mind to donate?"

"How does $5 million sound?"

Judith almost dropped her coffee cup.

"That will please this college no end, Mrs Codd. That would be a magnificent donation and my recommendation to the council will express your wish for the memorial naming of the MBA center."

"Thank you Judith. I shall instruct my chief attorney this afternoon."

A few days later the wives of two of Frank's younger friends invited the even younger Mrs Codd to the club for drinks and they sat in the paneled octagon room. It was almost empty and Marsha said it was such a shame but most women didn't like sitting in rooms with no windows in daylight. Most preferred the glassed sunroom that lacked character.

"The club should do something about it," Glade said.

"They won't," Yvonne groaned. "The only way to get natural light in here is through the roof and the governing committee is against that. The men want the present pool replaced for one twice that size so all available money for improvements is being diverted to realized that project."

Sipping her cocktail through a glass straw Glade looked up at the ceiling some 12 feet above them. Early next evening she attended a meeting with the club president and CEO.

"Mrs Codd, I don't think you understand," said the stuffed-shirt president. "A modification was proposed to that room almost ten years ago and the governing committee rejected the proposal."

"Well a lot of water goes under the bridge in ten years."

"Is that so," said Mrs Stewart, the CEO. "Only one member of the 12-member committee has changed since then."

"What if I come up with a proposal that knocked their socks off?"

The president and CEO exchanged glances and the CEO said, "Like what?"

"Give me a copy of the plans and specifications of the main building and I'll go to an architect and see what she can come up with."

"She?"

"Yes Mr Jacobs. I prefer to consult female professionals because they tend to be more thorough. "I'll pay the total cost of the modifications if I come up with a proposal that is accepted by you and your committee."

"You will?"

Glade sighed. "Please authorize Mrs Stewart to loan me a copy of the plans and specification for two weeks."

"But our architects would want to do any design work."

"Are they female Mr Jacobs?"

"Ah."

"We have a dilemma Mr Jacobs. The plans please or this possible improvement to the octagonal room is lost."

"I'm sorry Mrs Codd. It's our architects or nothing."

"Good evening Mrs Stewart, Mr Jacobs."

Glade went to the office and picked up a nomination form for next month's election of club officers. She then asked Janet to print out the names of women members who were architects and their profiles. Returning home she phoned Marsha and Yvonne and invited them to lunch next day. Over lunch they were appalled to learn about the way Glade had been treated over her offer to present a redesign of the octagon roof that would allow natural light into the boxed off room.

"Would you ladies please sign and second this nomination form as club president?"

"Yes they chorused," and signed.

"I don't wish to be president. God, it would be too much like hard work. This is just tactical, to get old stuff shirt to agree to having the plans and specifications handed over to me."

"But he could block you later down the track," Yvonne said.

"Fuck," Glade said and her two companions looked around nervously and then grinned.

"I overlooked that probability."

"Wait, my mind has slipped up a couple of cogs," Marsha smiled. "Have your lady design the roof modifications and have the club's architects be the onsite supervisors."

"Marsha, that's marvelous. That is likely to be the way forward, satisfying our grumpy president and me. I'll still put my nomination in and he'll take me aside to find how he could persuade me to withdraw. I also plan to raise another proposal at the annual meeting to get this pool project over and done with. Unless we do it will drain club coffers and shoot the club's maintenance and renewal program to shreds."

"Oh yes, quite right." Marsha said. "I hadn't thought of that and I'm supposed to be bright. We could be in danger of becoming Scruffy Club instead of the Regent Club."

When Yvonne left for a dental appointment Marsha asked, "Are you still having an affair Rodney Beamish -- no one seems to know?"

"Oh, I thought I was being discreet."

"We women without jobs have the job of finding out who is sleeping with whom and whose relationship is breaking up."

"We separated ten days ago."

"Bored?"

"I can't speak for him but it was going fine by me and then he groaned I wasn't giving him presents or money."

"God, Rodney fucked you for several weeks without getting anything in return?"

"Marsha, please. I really put my whole effort into my role."

"No, no -- I mean it's presents or money up front with Rodney otherwise he doesn't unzip.

"Let's destroy his heartless attitude to sex Marsha. You are free to let it be known that I received at least eleven visits from Rodney and no money or presents or anything passed hands."

"Are you sure I can do that?"

"Yes, let's put his mind back on to tennis."

"If this really gets out will you become a legend Mrs Codd."

As Glade giggled Marsha looked at her thoughtfully. "Darling, are you between guys at present?"

"Yes."

"I wonder if this may interest you. My stepson who is thirty-five is staying with us. Last year he caught me at a weak moment and got into my pants. He's very good. He's married and lives in St Paul, but being married doesn't appear to keep him in check. Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night and meet him?"

"Don't you care for his wife?"

"No. She's aggressive and on drugs. Come by cab and I'll get him to take you home in my car. Then the ball will be in your court."

"Thank you sweetie but I must decline the set-up for possible sex. If he's married he's not for me. I'm sorry."