Linda Jamison stood in front of the man and fought back tears, determined not to cry. The news that she had just received from this man shook her to the core. She would never have believed it, not about Michael. He just didn't seem to be that type of person.
Then again, what did "that" type of person look like? She knew judges, policemen, doctors, lawyers, bankers, people from all walks of life, shared the same affliction as Michael.
"So, what are we going to do about this?" Mr. Foswell said as he looked over at the obviously-unhappy brunette. He knew that she had dolled herself up to convince him to work out a deal and he was willing to cut her some slack, but not too much slack. She was a looker, but men with his kind of money could snap their fingers and find twenty more just like her. He looked at her again. Okay, maybe five, ten
tops
. She was sure a gorgeous woman and he thought Michael was an idiot for risking his marriage in this way. The more he looked into Linda Jamison's beautiful almond eyes, the more she seemed to draw him in. Maybe only one or two women had what she had. Yeah, Michael was a fucking idiot for risking his marriage to this gorgeous and exotic-looking honey.
"How much?" Linda asked, trying to keep the tears from her voice and remain calm. "How much does my husband owe you?"
Foswell looked at the brunette beauty and he had to admire her strength. She hadn't crumpled when he called her home and she hadn't panicked when he said he was sending someone to pick her up. The men that worked for him were a bit scary looking, but it was all for show. Foswell ran a legitimate business after taking over from his father – who
didn't
. He used his gangster dad's reputation to handle cheaters and welshers and 95% of the time, it worked out fine.
"He's into me for a quarter million," Foswell said to the young woman. He watched her jaw drop and her eyes go wide. To her credit, she did not cry, faint or crumple to the ground. If anything, she looked furious.
"That's almost what he earns in a year," Linda said with anger in her soft voice. "How could he be so damned stupid?" She loved Michael. She had been the happiest girl in the world when they had married two short years ago. She had known a number of men, but none like her husband. She had waited 33 years for a man like him, tall, handsome and successful. They had even talked of having a family. That would have to wait. It was obvious her husband had a problem and she needed to do something about it. First, she had to find a way to settle things with Mr. Foswell.
"We don't have that kind of money," Linda said and looked at him with pleading eyes. An idea struck her. "We have a huge home and it's all in my name. I can take out a second mortgage on the house and pay you most of the money – in a week, would that be okay?"
Foswell admired the young woman, she had moxie. "Yeah, but what about the rest? Tell you what – I need a few cocktail waitresses to take some extra shifts. You're hotter'n hell, you come work for me and I'll deduct the remaining debt from your wages."
"I'm sorry, but I don't intend to work for free," Linda stated plainly.
"Doll, with your face and body, you'll clean up in tips," Foswell told her. "Believe me; you won't be workin' for free. Do we have a deal?"
She extended her hand and Foswell didn't think he'd ever touched skin that soft. "We do," Linda said to him with great appreciation. "Thank you, I'll make sure you get what you're entitled to."
As she drove her sporty little MG home, Linda's wheels were spinning, but not in the car. She now knew that Michael was a compulsive gambler and his "poker nights" were spent losing most of their savings. She was going to find a way to put a stop to that. She thought that part of Michael knew he had a problem and that is why he had insisted the house be in her name only. That had saved their bacon, now what? She would have to find a way to pay off their second mortgage. Michael could easily gamble away their money again.
Then, it hit her. A Linda Michael had never met resurfaced. It was the survivor instinct of a young woman who was on her own at 16 and at 18, had done what she needed to do to survive. A Linda who was wily and smart and who got whatever she went after. This Linda was going to insure their future and if Michael got out of line, she could deal with his ass. She loved him, but the Linda that was now driving the MG was a survivor above all else.
Michael had met the attractive brunette in a nightclub and offered to buy her a drink. They got to talking and he danced with her. She was surprised because most men couldn't dance, although he could – very well. She was dying to know if he moved equally well in bed. As it turned out, he did. So well, that she never bothered to tell him why she had been in the club in the first place.
Linda had been a high-class call girl since the age of 18. A friend had shown her the way and helped her set up a website presence. She had been doing very well and was supposed to meet her date at the club when his wife got sick and had to be rushed to the hospital. Linda got paid in advance, so she had time to kill. She was in the club looking to see if she could attract another man – or hot lady, Linda sometimes partied with women. In a leopard print hat and matching boots, with her hair down and a very short skirt, she remembered Michael telling her that she stood out from the crowd like sunshine through a field of black clouds.
She found herself falling for Michael after their first-ever "date". He was funny and chatty and talkative. She also found out he was very successful. He took her to a restaurant where dinner cost as much as she earned for a few hours of kinky sex.
So many times over the next few weeks, Linda had wanted to tell Michael what she did for a living. She didn't intend to be deceptive, although she wondered if he'd end it if he knew. She scaled back her working schedule; she was no longer the desperate woman of some years earlier. She had savings and investments and owned her small condo outright. When Michael asked her to marry him, she accepted. She had a few final flings with favorite customers and left that world behind.
Now, it was time for THAT Linda to return. She had to control their life and she knew how. The same way she had for most of her life – with sex.
Michael had a higher sex drive than many of her former clients. Linda rarely went unsatisfied in bed. Okay, it was time to up the ante. Michael wanted this and he wanted
that
. She was going to treat their sex life as a game, but completely everything was in favor of the house. He could have
whatever
it was he wanted – but
everything
as of now was going to cost him. She walked into their spacious home and looked in the mirror. She hadn't lost her looks, not one iota.
She called the bank and made arrangements for their second mortgage. Mr. Dillon could not have been more helpful and he told her no, as she was the sole name on the mortgage, Michael would not necessarily have to be informed. Only in case of an emergency. When she finished the arrangements, knowing how much debt Michael had put them into, Linda was seething. She looked in the mirror again.
Oh yeah, sex was going to cost her husband
big-time
.
Michael came home on time from his job and acted as if nothing was wrong. She had to give him credit; he knew how to keep a secret. His was almost as big as hers. All throughout dinner, he didn't mention Foswell or his huge debt, although Linda knew Foswell had contacted him. She tried to push her resentment down, telling herself he had a problem. She needed to deal with things one step at a time. She went upstairs and came down dressed in a slinky black teddy and her sluttiest pair of 5-inch stiletto heels. "In the mood for a fuck, handsome?" She purred as she leaned in close. She knew her husband would never turn down a horny woman, so she had his interest.
"Of course, what did you have in mind?" Michael asked as his sexy wife sat on his lap. He'd never seen this teddy before and there was a wild, feral look in her eyes.
"Baby, we're going to play a game," she purred, keeping up the pretense of knowing nothing about his problems. "I'm going to act as a call girl and sex is going to cost you. A blowjob and a hot fuck will cost you – oh, let's say, $1500. What do you think, am I worth it?"
"Of course you are baby, but are you serious?" Michael chuckled.