To refresh your memory, my name is Jack. I hit it big in the "dot com" industry and quit my job as a multi-millionaire. I moved into a golf course community where there were lots of neglected housewives. I maneuvered myself into a group of women known around the clubhouse as "The Fearsome Foursome" because their golf game was so horrendous. Their names were Irene, Anna, Rebecca and Sheryl. I was bedding Irene and Anna on a weekly basis.
Life was pretty good now. I was wealthy beyond my dreams, had two, count 'em two, horny, sexy women, and time to do whatever I wanted and go wherever I wanted. Basically my week went like this: Monday was my day to do my errands, like food shopping and dry cleaning, tend to the yard and do the household bull shit that had to get done regardless of money stature. Tuesday was Irene. Totally devoted to her. When she left, I sat my ass in front of the TV and vegged. Wednesday was our weekly golf outing and luncheon. If Irene or Anna needed "special attention", that was usually the day. Thursday was Anna. After her, I was always physically spent. Friday was my day to recuperate. I did whatever I wanted on Friday, whether more golf or a day on the lake fishing. The weekend was when I would date. I had a few women I saw, but nothing I would say required monogamy. The great thing about my friendship with the foursome was that it helped me with the women I dated.
On some days, I would sit and listen to them chit chat about whatever. The key here is that I listened, therefore I learned. I learned what women thought was important, what there values were and what motivated them. I didn't say I agreed with them, or that I understood why they felt that way, but I just knew that they did. So when meeting new women, I could throw out a few of the buzz words, show empathy at the right time and learned how to listen to their hopes and concerns without having my eyes glaze over. It was a godsend. It was knowledge that got me a lot of pussy. If I was a superhero, that would be my super power.
This arrangement went on for a few months. During this time, Rebecca's husband, Eduardo, or Eddy, was laid off from his telecom job, his company was closing its doors. He lost a lot, both in salary and in his stock holding with the company. With the entire industry in turmoil, finding another position even remotely equivalent was difficult. The stress could be seen on Rebecca's face and demeanor. They had enough to live in the same lifestyle to which they were accustomed, at least for a while, but having him around the house all day, every day was driving her nuts. Irene had confided in me that Rebecca had told her that Eddy was getting depressed and his 'husbandly duties' were not being fulfilled. What that meant to me was that she was taking all of that stress and frustration out on me.
She would tear in to me at a drop of a hat. If I said the sky was blue, she would correct me and say it was "Carolina Blue, Moron." The other women noticed her aggression towards me, but let it go, mostly in fear that they could be the next targets. And since I was already used to it, why change tradition. So I took the harassment, and after a while, took some sadistic pleasure in trying to provoke it, just to watch her boil over. Being a wise-ass does have its rewards.
It took Eddy about 3 months to land another job. In that time, Rebecca stressed and fretted so much she actually lost some weight. She wouldn't tell anyone how much she lost, I guess for fear that we might do some simple math and figure out how much she weighed before. Anyway, she looked great. Regrettably, the new job required her to relocate to South America. Apparently, the telecom business is in its infancy in that part of the world and in dire need of seasoned bi-lingual professionals. So I bought a few shares of his new company on speculation.
Eddy had to report almost immediately, so that meant Rebecca would have to get the house sold and their affairs in order. The new company picked up a lot of the expenses, but hearing her tell it, it was still a huge pain in the ass.
As her move date approached, the ladies all decided to give her a going away bash. I suggested we take her to that ritzy French place she was always raving about but, of course, the women shot that one down. They wanted to do something where they could get a little wild and not have to worry about other people hearing them recount stories from years past. Some of them might be a little dicey.
Since they all had husbands, or children, or pets or whatever in their homes that would have to be displaced for the day, and maybe the evening, my place was elected. "Great! The woman spends all that time berating me, and I'm going to host a party in her honor. Shit, at least it's a going away party." I got the giggles I was looking for and a few "Oh, Jack, you're terrible," comments.
The ladies clearly understood what they were getting into when they asked me to host. They had the food brought in and went behind my back and contacted my cleaning service to make sure that I had scheduled an appointment for the morning of the party. The only thing that they let me handle was the booze, and even then, I think they had a backup plan in place. But no need, I contacted the clubs barkeeper to learn what drinks they preferred, rather than the ones they just drank at lunch, and went to the liquor store right as they opened. I explained to the shopkeeper my drink list and he pulled all the liquor, special liqueurs, and the mixers for me. I even bought an industrial strength blender for those specialty drinks. I was set.
The morning of the party came, and the cleaning crew did an amazing job. They never did this for me, so I figured Sheryl promised them something extra if the place was up to her expectations.
I had to get out of the house...all of these preparations were ruining my morning routine. I headed for the club to hit a few buckets of balls and get some breakfast. When I got there, I grabbed a couple of buckets of balls and headed for the driving range. The great thing about this club is that it is not overpopulated with retirees, so I can always get a morning tee time during the week without any problems and have the men's locker room to myself.
On my way to the range, I noticed a group of women heading into the clubhouse. Leading the group was Nancy, a 50-something woman with an enchanting personality and the most captivating eyes I had ever seen. Talking to her was so easy and you found yourself ignoring the rest of the world and opening yourself up and telling her everything. This was why Nancy was a valuable friend; she had all the dirt on everyone. Mind you, she did not share this information like a gossip would. She kept it to herself but I figured if you crossed her, your dirt could leak out. She was always extra friendly to me so I would sometimes try to pump her for information about some of the members.
On the range I did horribly. I was getting worried that the foursomes' golf habits were rubbing off on me. Frustrated, I headed back to get something to eat and maybe a good strong Bloody-Mary to the juices flowing.
The ladies group that was meeting in the corner of the café was just breaking up as my food arrived. The women meandered around, talking among themselves. I noticed Nancy in a hushed conversation with two others. There were the occasional giggles and glances in my general direction, so I knew I must be the topic of discussion. I finished my food quickly and headed to the bar for a refill on my drink. It was going to be a long day and I needed all the vitamins I could get, even if they were also laced with alcohol.
I signed my chit and headed for the locker room to relax in the men's lounge. I turned to look at the three ladies when my eyes locked onto Nancy's. Her eyes softened and seemed to be telling me not to worry. I smiled and she gave me a look that said "wait, don't leave yet". Hmmm.
I stood at the rear of the bar area so as not to be in the way of the wait staff and not to be an obvious target for more gossip.
After the other ladies left, we were alone in the café. The employees were busy in the kitchen preparing for the lunch crowd.
She approached me with a big smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. "Hi, Jack. Thanks for waiting. I just wanted to let you know that we weren't being 'catty' at your expense. They were just commenting on how you always seemed so comfortable in large groups of women. Their husbands would be squirming and itching to get away."
