How is it that some guys get lucky with women all the time? For Burt Olsen, luck has nothing to do with it. In The Floating Threesome he figured out a perfect way to persuade lots of women to have sex. The story unfolds in 11 short chapters. In Chapter 2 we see how Burt's friend Jack gets in trouble with the law, and how Burt manages to end an extended period of celibacy.
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The next few weeks were very unpleasant. Tilda wanted me out of the house. Immediately. I had nowhere else to live, so I was officially homeless.
Word of what happened spread to all my employees, who knew and liked Tilda. The consensus was that I was the biggest asshole in the history of assholes. They weren't wrong.
Everybody felt Tawny was nothing but a whore. Apparently, they all knew she'd been fucking me in exchange for time off. She was so hated by coworkers that she had to find another job. I wondered if she was able to find a boss who'd fuck her in the ass and let her leave work early.
Tilda and I both hired lawyers who came up with a division of property that was as fair as possible. I got to keep my business and my retirement savings account. Tilda got everything else, including the house, personal property, and savings. If she'd felt like punishing me, Tilda could have forced me to sell my business, but she was more interested in getting me out of her life. She was a good wife. Was.
Since I had nowhere to live, I moved into a dusty old camper parked behind the building in the yard where we stored boats. I got it from a customer who didn't have the money to pay the bill for repairing his boat, so he gave me the camper as security until he saved up his money. He never paid that bill, so I was stuck with a camper I didn't want or need - until I became homeless. I don't think it's legal to live in a camper parked behind a commercial business, but I did it anyway, and nobody complained. I thought it was temporary, but I lived in that hovel a lot longer than I expected.
It turned out to be difficult to keep the business running when I was completely out of cash. The business was profitable, but we had good months and bad, and I had to come up with some pretty creative financing during the months when sales were down. What this meant was that I couldn't spend money on myself. No restaurant meals. No time off. For a while, I didn't even own a car. The nearest laundromat was three blocks away, which is kind of inconvenient when you're carrying a laundry basket full of dirty clothes.
This whole thing was very depressing. I was not where I expected to be at that stage of my life. I had just turned 30, and I hated feeling I had to start over. And this may sound trivial, but I was especially bothered by the fact that I wasn't getting laid. Overnight, I'd gone from being a guy getting lots of sex from two sexy women. I was getting sex regularly from my devoted wife, and hooking up a couple of times a week with a hot piece of ass.
Now, I couldn't afford to take women on dates. Even if I could, there was no way I could take them back to my place, because my place was a ratty old camper. As the months rolled by, I experienced the longest period of celibacy of my adult life. I got more sex when I was an 18-year-old high school boy.
I slowly put my life back together. As the months dragged by, I managed to put some money in the bank. My business stabilized, and my employees pretended to forget that I was an asshole who'd betrayed a good woman for the sake of a hot piece of ass. I got a lot of support from my business partner, Jack Brunswick. Jack was a very flawed individual himself, and he tended to be understanding of the shortcomings of other people.
Jack and I had a comfortable way of dividing the job of running our business. I did the hiring, paperwork, and most of the management of our employees. Jack took care of the boats. He was a nautical genius who'd spend so much time sailing he'd learned everything there was to know. He did the repairs, modifications, consultations with customers, and made sure our shop was stocked with the tools and materials needed to take care of our clients' boats.
The unfortunate thing was that Jack was the kind of guy who struggled to live a stable lifestyle. He was in love with a girl named Darla Johnson, but who called herself Dar. Dar regularly came to give Jack blowjobs during his lunch break. It was cute. At first.
I was certain that Dar loved Jack. They lived together in a comfortable apartment where Jack paid the rent and most other expenses while Dar worked a part-time job as a cocktail waitress and spent all the money she earned on herself. I should explain that Dar was one of those girls like Tawny, who loved to party and didn't like anything else. This meant Jack spent more time partying than was healthy, and he managed to spend all his money giving Dar the lifestyle she loved.
At some point Dar became very fond of cocaine. I've known a lot of coke heads - and I admit I've tried it several times myself - and it is exactly as dangerous as you've been told. It seems great at first, but then you get addicted and everything stops being great. The brilliant comic and actor Robin Williams said it all when he joked, "Cocaine makes me feel like a new man, and the first thing that new man wants is more cocaine!"
Dar - and eventually Jack - wanted more and more cocaine as time went by. Every spare dollar went straight up their noses, and I began to hear of things like their landlord threatening to evict them over late rent payments. This was a big change for Jack, who enjoyed nice things and used to have plenty of money to pay for them. He owned three Rolex watches and a hot Porsche sports car. As a party girl, Dar loved rolling down the street in that car and pretending she was the trophy wife of some millionaire.
This is a long, complicated story, so I'll just get to the part where everything exploded. One evening Jack invited me to a party at his house. He lived a short distance from where we worked, so I walked over there and was horrified by what I saw. His "guests" were a bunch of sleazy addicts who were only there because they wanted some free drugs. The ones who weren't high were drunk - very, very drunk. Obnoxious music blared from the sound system. I was sure Jack's neighbors weren't happy.
I noticed something odd seemed to be happening in Jack's bedroom, so I walked back there and found some skinny little crackhead going through Jack's drawers. He'd found the Rolex watches and was stuffing Jack's keys in his pocket. Those keys included every door at our business; if the wrong person got those keys, we had a problem.
"What the hell are you doing!" I yelled. The guy hadn't seen me enter the job, and he jumped so much he almost lost his balance.
"I'm just looking!" the guy said.
"You're looking for trouble, and you just found some!" I said, grabbing the little twerp by the neck. I took away the watches, and the keys, and I found Jack's wallet inside one pocket. I grabbed the guy by the hair, dragged him to the door, and threw him out into the hallway. "If you've smart you'll get the hell out of here and never come back!" I said, slamming the door.
Nobody even noticed. They were too focused on snorting cocaine and guzzling liquor. Dar was letting guys lick whiskey off her nipples. Jack looked completely stoned. It was awful - all of it.
I went back into Jack's bedroom and wondered what to do. I knew I was going to get out of there before some neighbor called the cops and everybody got arrested. But I worried that Jack's valuables might get ripped off first. Therefore, I got the watches, the wallet, the keys, and Jack's laptop. Jack had worked for years creating designs for boats he wanted to build someday. If somebody stole that laptop, he'd lose all that work.
