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."
