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 I had immediately gone to a local bank and withdrawn $4000 in cash.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."
