I'm John Smith; yeah that's my real name; my parents had no originality. Most people think that I'm being a smart ass when I tell them my name, but I've learned not to give a crap. As of the 2010 U. S. Census there were more than 2.3 million Smiths including 44,935 real John Smith's, and hundreds of thousands of men who registered in motels with that name.
My parents and younger brother were pricks to me the entire time that I was growing up. I could do nothing right in my parents' eyes, and my brother could do nothing wrong. That really got to me by the time that I was thirteen, and it turned me into a classic jerk. I became a bad ass and juvenile delinquent.
I always seemed to get into one form of trouble or the other, whether it be a fight, contempt for authority, or actual crime. In response to how they treated me I really stressed out my supposedly deeply religious parents and brown-nosing little brother. They gave up on me when I stole a car when I was seventeen. Going by my fake ID the cops sent me to county jail; I wasn't smart enough to correct them. Since I was technically a juvenile, though at 6 feet 2 inches tall, 220 pounds, with a hard-ass expression seemingly painted on my face I sure didn't look like one, I shouldn't have been there.
I got out of stir shortly after my real 18th birthday only because of a lucky break. A hot shot attorney named Edward Samson who was doing court-mandated pro bono work at the jail got interested in my case and raised holy hell about me being incarcerated in an adult jail. My record was expunged and to provide recompense the city paid for my room and board while I got my GED; the room and board was necessary since by then my family had officially disowned me. My parents then put all of their hopes on my younger brother who they always treated like a prince and who looked quite a bit like me but didn't have the criminal inclinations forced upon me because of my parental ill treatment. That didn't bother me in the least; I was actually glad to be rid of my family; since I was thirteen I had never gotten along with either my mother or father, and I hated my prissy little brother.
I completed my GED only because a paralegal working for Edward Samson, Esq. was an amateur MMA fighter and at Samson's instruction he "gave me religion" when, after my first smart ass comment to him, he had me in an arm bar within seconds and I thought for sure that he would break it at the elbow. Samson also made me do grunt work around his office which he paid me above minimum wage for and told me that I needed to enlist in the armed forces once I got my GED. His paralegal emphasized the point by telling me "You need something to get your fucking head on straight, Smith," as he cuffed me on the back of the head.
I had my GED shortly before I turned nineteen and then did enlist in the Marines. I guess like many other dudes with a bad attitude my time in the military did straighten me out. I found out that I had what it took to be a Marine scout sniper, a specialty where the normal washout rate was about 50%. I found out that I had 20/15 vision as well as good spatial skills, so I graduated near the top of my class in scout sniper training, the first time that I had really succeeded in something that was socially productive.
While I was overseas in actual combat I found out by perusing my home city newspaper on the Internet that my parents had died in a car crash. I felt a pang of sadness for a few minutes, but only because I could then no longer get revenge on them, which had been a long term goal of mine. My name wasn't even mentioned in the obituary, although it did indicate that my brother Chuck had married - probably someone as prissy as he was. I still had hopes to eventual seek vengeance against him.
I mustered out of the armed forces when I was twenty four, went to college while working part-time as a firearms instructor, and ended up with a degree in Industrial Engineering by the time that I was twenty seven. I had kept in contact with Edward Samson, primarily because I had no family and he always showed me tough love, and was gratified that he was proud of both my military service and getting an engineering degree in three years. He put in a good word for me with a large international company that he had done trial work for and I got a decent engineering job right out of college.
With hard work, and a few lucky breaks, by the time that I was thirty four I was a V. P. in charge of the entire Industrial Engineering branch of my company and was living a good life except for one thing - no worthwhile female sexual or romantic relationship.
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It's hard to believe that by the time that a guy was only thirty four that he could be jaded when it came to female sexual or romantic relationships. That definitely was me, though. In my youth I hadn't treated females that I had a sexual attraction to with respect. By the time that I had learned to be respectful I got as unlucky with women as I had been lucky in my career.
My first serious girlfriend, Louise, who I had fallen strongly for, left me for a woman.
My first wife, Joyce, decided after 18 months of marriage that she needed to "find herself," and left for parts unknown with only an email goodbye.
My second serious girlfriend, Denise, turned out to be a con-woman. At least there I got somewhat lucky and found out about her true colors when she had fleeced me out of only about $10,000; I at least got some satisfaction out of the situation (aside from some really good pussy for five months) by beating the ever-loving shit out of her real boyfriend and soul mate con artist.
My second wife, Bernadette, turned out to be legitimately crazy. As clueless as I am I misinterpreted her mental illness as passion and kookiness. I honestly didn't realize her mental state until she committed suicide after we had been married only 14 months.
My third serious girlfriend, Melba, seemed normal for the first four months. Then, although she didn't have a diagnosed mental illness like Bernadette did, she turned out to be a whack job. After a particularly vigorous sex session that lasted most of a Saturday she told me that she felt that she could finally open up to me. "I am among the Universe People," she proudly stated.
I thought that she was kidding so I played along. "Really, what are the fundamental beliefs of the Universe People?"
"Extraterrestrial civilizations operate a fleet of spaceships that orbit the earth. They closely watch us and help the good among us. They are waiting to transport their followers into another dimension," Melba responded with stars in her eyes.
"When will they do that?" I asked with a grin still believing that she was kidding.
"As soon as we renounce technology, and give up the use of money," she replied.
"Is that why you're the only person I know without a smart phone, and why I have to pay for everything?" I chuckled.
"Yes," was her reply with a completely serious face.
By the next week I was convinced that she wasn't joking, but was telling the truth about being among the Universe People so I dumped her. Since she was a really good fuck I might have been able to put up with her for another year except that the situation with Bernadette had made me gun shy when it came to wacky chicks.
Two weeks after dumping Melba I hired a call girl with the pseudonym "Amber" for the entire day and night of my thirty fourth birthday; I had a great time. Given my past bad luck I decided that call girls might be the sanest and most cost effective way to proceed in the future, especially since Amber was with a national organization that had an unusual group of employees. The national organization - supposedly with chapters in thirty one states - was known as "Local Wives LLC."
Before Amber and I parted the morning after my thirty fourth birthday I pumped her for information about Local Wives LLC. While the organization has one stable of employees (under a different name) that are what would be considered typical young single call girls, the Local Wives group was actually populated by married women typically aged thirty to sixty that lived in or near the city where the branch of Local Wives was located. While as a rule the local wives are attractive they have a wide range of body types and personalities. Some are actually happily married with kids, some simply want more money to live the lifestyle that they desire, others have desperate home situations monetarily and/or emotionally, and still others do it primarily for fun. Amber was in the latter group, and fun she was.
Amber didn't look like a typical call girl, but actually like a well put-together forty year old suburban soccer mom, maybe seven or eight pounds overweight, tits that sagged slightly, and with a few lines in her face and a cesarean scar. She wore relatively conservative clothes, had little makeup on, and talked like a member of a Garden Club rather than a frequent visitor to a Night Club. Sex with Amber wasn't like it was with a typical call girl, either. She needed to be romanced (even if briefly), and wasn't wild and crazy between the sheets, but was very loving and accommodating. She treated me like I was her real husband, not some john (even though I was John). Also, by paying extra and getting an STD test ahead of time, I didn't need to use a condom for vaginal sex.
Since Amber had made my birthday special, I gave her a $200 tip, which earned me a truly real passionate goodbye kiss.
After my experience with Amber I got vetted by the Local Wives LLC national organization, and as long as I behaved myself with my "dates" I would get special treatment and discounted rates. I trusted them with my credit card information, and they had all the indications of a legitimate non-sexual escort business with the IRS. I also had access to a database of photos of the Local Wives (clothed, although with at least one bikini shot, with faces blurred) at each of the chapters across the country.
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I used my real name with all of the women from Local Wives; without exception they thought that my name was bogus but since they were using phony names too they couldn't have cared less. I had used Local Wives about half a dozen times before I took my first business trip to the city of my birth. I had been very pleased with the services of the women from Local Wives. While not all the women were as good looking or as fun as Amber had been, I definitely had no complaints. In analyzing why I was so content with Local Wives' services I came to the conclusion that it was because in each case I felt "appreciated," in addition to having a wholehearted sexual encounter.
I had selected the woman who I had wanted for my trip to my home city from the photo montage on line and submitted my updated STD test a few days before my trip. The woman's pseudonym was "Trinity," and if the photos were legit she would likely be the woman with the best body of anyone I had used with Local Wives LLC. I was told by Maddy, the national coordinator assigned to me, that she was very new to the organization and Maddy hoped that I would understand some nervousness on her part. To accommodate her inexperience and to set her at ease through Maddy I asked if Trinity could meet me for lunch the day that I arrived, which Trinity apparently enthusiastically agreed to. She couldn't stay over in my hotel room my first night in town, but would be available the second night for dinner and a sleep over.
I met Trinity for lunch at one of the ten best restaurants in the city. She was even better looking in person than I thought that she would be from her photos, although she definitely had a "wife" look and not an exotic call girl appearance. I could tell that she was a little nervous for the first half hour or so. At about the half hour mark she said "You look a little familiar; I haven't met you before, have I?"
"Hey, that's supposed to be my line," I chuckled. "I can assure you that we have never met because I definitely would remember someone was stunning as you are."
After that exchange she relaxed completely and we had a great two hour lunch. The real kiss goodbye, accompanied by our exchanges of "You taste good," sent an electric charge up my spine.
After only a couple hours of business that afternoon I had dinner with Edward Samson. It was really good to catch up with him in person. His practice was going great, and he seemed to have an almost father-like pride in how I had turned my life around. He actually blushed and coughed when I truthfully told him "You were the most important single factor in my turnaround - I just wish that you could do for my love life what you did for my career and life in general."
