Easter Monday, April 5th, 2010
Just after 9:00 Monday morning. Ms. Madeline Westerbrook Esq. was leaning across John Hanlon's desk; ass high up in the air, hose and panties around her ankles semen dripping down her thighs. He'd just finished his 'six minute workout'. Zipping his fly he smacked her cherry red behind, smirked and said, "Don't know why you won't let me check that back door."
Madeline turned; her immediate supervisor John Hanlon; he looked a little worse for wear this morning. Much older than she, forty something, shorter than her, overweight, overlarge belly, he had a tendency to burp unexpectedly, especially when no clients were about, he was guilty of periodic meteorism too. She supposed both things were probably the result of years of poor diet. Clean shaven, receding hairline, bald patch on top. Could a comb over be far behind? He had the first traces of hair growing out of his nose, and he had a tendency to pick it when he didn't think anyone was looking. He was a wearer of glasses, wire frames for reading but he also used contacts. He might have been good looking once. He played golf. He reminded her of the fraternity boys who'd abused her, what they might look like now, and that pleased her. He had a handsome wife, though about the same age she looked younger. He had kids; one was an arrogant little snot in college. She swore she'd never marry anyone like Hanlon. Her thoughts drifted back to that Colton, that horse boy. She had him figured out too, just another nobody. Hanlon was a fraternity boy and a mason.
She thought, 'Her dad was a Frat boy and a mason too. Not that it mattered. She glanced at her wristwatch. If he wasn't with her sister and her family he'd probably be just getting in to his office about now. He sometimes called.'
'Her dad, her sister, Mr. Hanlon.'
Backdoor he said? Her disgusted reaction gave him his answer, he smiled and said, "Thanks anyway Maddie. Great way to start the day."
Restoring her pantyhose and panties and pulling her knee length pleated skirt back into place she replied, "Always glad to be of service. Mind if I use your bathroom?"
"Sure, just remember to flush. Can't have any incriminating evidence. I might have visitors later."
Madeline grinned, "Wifey coming in later?"
"Leave my wife out of it. No I've got some new people. Some kind of technical company; they're dissatisfied with who they've got and want new representation. They do a lot of government contracts. Maybe you'd like to get in on it?"
Madeline reflected and answered, "Sure, why not. My plate's going to be empty soon."
"You got us the mall contract?"
"In the bag John."
"Good girl, just remember its Mr. Hanlon outside my office. Once you make partner it can be John. And yeah, Mr. Prendergast OK'd you so now it's up to Mr. Schilling."
Madeline thought, 'Byron Prendergast had been easy; all he wanted to do was flirt. Mr. Schilling was a problem. It wasn't her work; no, he was something different. Mr. Schilling was a fraternity brother of her father's, and it was through her dad that she landed the job. Mr. Schilling was a sober religious man, an Episcopalian, and a regular church goer. He loved God and he liked her. It was a good thing the partners weren't close friends; each had his own social life and agenda. The last thing she could allow was for Mr. Schilling to find out about her 'other activities' with Hanlon, and...some of their clients. He'd get really mad. He'd most likely call her father. She stepped into the outer office. Everything looked ship-shape.
~~V~~
Back in western Pennsylvania Colt was in the middle of his mucking. Chelsea had stayed home, said she wanted to fiddle on the 'Net' some more. 'That girl,' he thought, 'though she had friends she had no real social life, just him and her Internet.' He wondered what she did all day long. It couldn't just be Facebook.
Checking the horses he found Johnny, Emit's favorite, the horse had a minor problem with a hoof. As he worked on it he thought Johnny was his favorite too, just a standard American saddle horse, brown, about sixteen hands high, he was a gentle creature, fun to ride. Colt wasn't much of a horseman; he just cleaned up after them, rode em now and then, and taught a few lessons.
Finishing up with Johnny he heard his phone. He pulled it out, 'Chelsea,' he wondered? Checking the screen he saw it was from Madeline. 'Where'd she get his cell number?' He checked the message, "How about dinner later this week?"
He mused, 'Guess she wasn't that disappointed after all.' He texted back, "Pick a night."
A minute later his phone bleeped again, "Thursday, 7:00 p.m., meet me at the Keystone Inn. Not to worry, it'll be on me."
'Good thing,' he thought, 'the Keystone was well out of his price range.' He texted back, "See you there." 'Damn,' he considered, 'that meant a shirt and tie.'
~~V~~
Colton got back from the stable a little after 3:00. He heard Chelsea upstairs so he decided to leave her alone. His mother and aunt were in the kitchen; both looked sick, probably hung over. He walked in, "Well how're my girls this fine afternoon?"
Patty, Patricia Lanter, his widowed aunt groaned, "Please stop shouting."
He hadn't been shouting. He looked at his mother, "Well Mrs. Stewart how about you?"
"Not now, not this early in the day."
He had his answers. They weren't his concern, "Seen Chelsea?"
His mom, head in her hands, muttered, "Upstairs."
Having had enough of his mom and aunt he walked on past the kitchen to the stairs. He hollered up, "Chelsea you up there? You all right? You need anything?"
She hollered back down, "Not now I'm busy."
He went back to the kitchen. His aunt glared at him, "Got a letter from Social Security. Chelsea's past eighteen. They're cutting me off."
Irritated Colt replied, "It was never supposed to be for you."
She snarled, "Yeah, but now how am I supposed to live?"
He smiled sarcastically, "Gee a whole $1,000 a month. You could get a job."
She grimaced, "You know I can't work, not with my condition."
Looking her over, drab wrinkled, too small Tee shirt, pilled stretch pants, matted unwashed hair, he added, "There's rehab."
Aunt Patty crawled out of her chair; it scraped harshly on the soiled linoleum floor, passing a glance at her sister she mumbled, "I've got get out of here, be at the 'Rouzerville' if you need anything," she walked past Colton without a word.
Colton ignored her too. The 'Rouzerville' was a tavern by the same name as the town. It was where his aunt went to get her drugs. He wondered what she'd been doing lately; probably cocaine by the look of her. Sitting down beside his mom he asked, "So what now?"
He eyed his mother; she was in a loose fitting smock, worn jeans, and old sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. While Aunt Patty was slovenly and grotesquely overweight, his mom looked drawn and tired. She wouldn't look at him, "I can't afford to keep them, guess they'll have to leave."
Colt's stomach turned over, "No, dump your sister. We can't put Chelsea out. You know that."
Mom, still not looking up said, "You could get a real job."
"Me? What can I do? Three years of college. Nobody'd hire me."
Mom did look at him then; with ill-concealed contempt she growled, "I love the kid as much as you, more maybe, but no Social Security, and with her medical bills. Medicaid covers shit. I don't see any other way."
"We could..."
His mother was suddenly all over him, "Shit Colt, we could what? We tried all the disability things. Her heart? Nobody cares. Diabetes, fuck! What's that; the disease of the day. We're poor Colt. We don't matter. She's over eighteen. No one fucking gives a rat's ass," she dropped her head in her hands on the table, "No one gives a shit. God I love the kid; she's like my own," almost wild eyed she looked up again, "I wish," she looked at her son, "My sister, I hate her, but you know that. Chelsea, she'll never, she won't...it's you son. Colt you've got to do something."
Colt sat there and stared at his mother. She was right; he'd thought about it before, thought about it a lot, 'His aunt was a druggie; she'd probably be dead soon. He was surprised she'd lived as long as she had. His mom did work; well Walmart. But she wasn't much either, a whore. No whores got paid; his mom just did it. She did it with anyone who'd buy her a drink or a tank of gas for that rattle trap she drove. Sooner or later she'd find the guy with the right disease and she'd be dead too. Then there was himself; what had he done? Nothing. He had to admit; the fruit didn't fall far from the tree. Last was Chelsea, poor Chelsea. What would become of her?'
He stared blankly through his mother to the corner where he'd taken off the molding in the fall to repair something. He forgot what he was supposed to fix. It wasn't even their house. Worthless, he was worthless, "Yeah mom, guess so," he got up, "better get upstairs and check on Chelsea, got to call Emit later, he'll need a replacement...I guess."
His mom got up too; she had to get to work.
Upstairs, he noticed Chelsea turned off the computer screen as soon as he walked in. She was still in her pajamas; a long yellow shirt thing with a big smiley face on the front, no underwear. He asked, "You OK?"
"I'm good, now get out."
He felt perverse, "How about a kiss?"
Except to lean her cheek up she didn't move. He leaned down and licked her.
She pulled back, grimacing, "You're such a jerk sometimes."
"My mom says I've got to get a job."
She grinned, "You mean like a real job?"
"Kiss my ass Chelsea."
She leaned her face up, puckered her lips, and made as if she wanted to smooch his face.
"Ha, ha," he grumbled, "meds, you need anything?"
"I need you to go away."
Having been dismissed he trudged on back to his bedroom. Out loud he said, "A job; what the fuck can I do?"
He spent the rest of Monday, all day Tuesday and most of Wednesday, except for a despondent call to his brother, sitting around the house watching television, drinking cheap beer, playing chess and backgammon with Chelsea, and feeling sorry for himself. He figured he owed it to himself to take a few days, his last days, off. He'd meet Madeline Thursday night, have some fun, and start looking for something on Friday.
~~V~~
Thursday night, the Keystone Inn:
Madeline was waiting for him outside the front door. She looked him over; shabby shirt, old our of style tie but in a Windsor knot, but then my god! He was wearing penny loafers and white socks! She greeted him smiling, "I was almost afraid you wouldn't come."
