Midlife Opportunities Ch 03

Standard boilerplate shit. Everyone is of age. This is my property, don't be a thief. I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter and I'm still not satisfied. It isn't everything I had hoped, but it is far better than what it was. I haven't had a lot of luck finding an editor. If interested send me a dissertation on the Oxford comma. Comment, subscribe, rate, and hit that like button. The number of you guys that started following this story is a huge ego booster. Thank you.

Molon Labe, 10

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My newly retained attorney. Scottie, had reached my bedside about an hour before my wife had shown up. After kisses and hugs and lying across my body and weeping, we finally got her settled down enough for me to push some directives into her brain. Keep it professional. Keep it brief. Keep all information away from my wife.

Lisa had shown up In some weird hybrid of hysteria and pissed off mama bear. I had seen it before. Fortunately, so had Stacey, Doctor McMillan. She gracefully and gently held my wife's hand through the debrief, never condescending, nothing passive aggressive, she was purely professional. My wife has a temper and watching Stacey skillfully and gently diffuse the situation was a thing of beauty.

Lisa had burst into the room and run straight to my bedside. She stopped when she saw me. Except for not being dismembered I looked a bit like C3 PO in the Empire Strikes Back, wires and tubes everywhere.

Stacey stepped up behind Lisa. "It's OK you can touch him, I'm Doctor McMillan, I've been seeing to his care."

Lisa threw herself on me and started squeezing for all she was worth." What did you do, you big dope? You scared the shit out of me. What is wrong with you?"

"We are still trying to determine what happened, Mrs. Rapali. Something we do not understand triggered an event in his brain. He has been unable to speak. Yet we do not see any sign of an aneurysm, stroke, embolism, or anything that would trigger such a result. I have run every test I can think of. I am waiting on the labs so I can determine my next move."

"Shouldn't we get a brain surgeon in here or something?" She was on the verge of panic.

"Ma'am, I am a 'brain surgeon'. One of, if not the best in the western United States. I will figure this out." This womans' bedside manner diffused my wifes burgeoning panic.

"Babe, I love you, don't be scared, the doc is good people. She'll fix me." I thought to her

"What the fuck was that? You spoke straight into my head. No voice." The panic returned.

"I know babe. I want you to be calm and relax. Dr. McMillan is a pro. She will get me back in business."

I scooched over and made room for her on my tiny little hospital bed. That's when she noticed more than the doctor in the room with us. "Who are all these people?"

"This is the floor nurse and 2 members of my team. And this..."

"Is your twin sister. She interrupted. "Are you a doctor too?"

"No. I'm a lawyer." Scottie held out her hand.

"She was here visiting me when I got paged for your husband. She shouldn't be here, and she knows better, but at this point it was easier for me to just let her in the room and stand in the corner than to scold her to go someplace else. If you would like, I will ask her to leave."

"I guess if she's not hurting anything it's fine. Except she's...a lawyer."

"Contract law, ma'am. Not a criminal attorney, nor an ambulance chaser." Scottie clarified.

"What's going to happen? What are you planning to do with him?" Lisa was scared.

"Your husband is an unusual case and I would like to study and test him to see if I can determine where the misfire happened. If you and he agree to be a case study we can see about having his treatment performed for free at the medical school's expense. I won't lie to you, if this turns into a new discovery in neurobiology this could make me a very wealthy and very famous neurosurgeon. If you don't agree to this, it's still an interesting puzzle that I would love to solve.

"But for the immediate future I need everyone to clear out so that I can examine my patient. No, Mrs. Rapali, I wouldn't dream of asking you to leave. But I will ask you to sit over there."

Everyone left except the doctor, and my wife. As she was doing the typical examination exercises with the light in the ear, in the eyes, following the finger I was speaking to her, " I can't read your mind and I cannot hear your thoughts so I will tell you what I expect then you will blink once for yes master twice for no master."

She blinked once. With a smirk.

"I can hear you over there mumbling" Lisa said without looking at me. What are you saying?"

"Being pissy about the situation babe,

I just want up out of here."

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It had been a week since my incident. I had been in-and-out of consciousness for most of the first four days. I had only regained the ability to speak at the end of the 5th. I had been poked, prodded, probed, pinched, scanned, and injected, I had given blood samples, semen samples, stool samples, skin samples, hair samples, and I think they even did a spinal tap. God knows why. I had been subjected to every test they could imagine. Except maybe a pregnancy test. Stacey and her team were drawing a blank. There was still nothing to indicate why I had passed out or lost my physical voice. Otherwise, I was as healthy as I had been when I walked through the front door.

I was ready to go back home. My wife had stayed by my bedside night and day which was tense to say the least. And I wasn't looking forward to the 3 plus hour drive home.

Her friend, Whorey Lori, had driven her up a week ago and gone home as soon as she found out I had been admitted. She earned her nickname, mostly because she has nine kids from nine different guys, and has been married 6 times at last count. I don't know why my wife is friends with Slutty McStealsmystuff. She is not a grand specimen of human decency, but look who's talking. A prostitute lovin, manipulative, lying, sack of shit.

We were going back together in my work truck. No place to hide and think.

I knew I was going to have to tell her something. So far I had no qualms about controlling people for the short term. Giving orders and such. But I had reservations about making any huge changes. Free will and all that. As much as I would like to think I would be a benevolent dictator. It would still make me a dictator. Not like a creepy mustache dictator, but I was feeling Machiavellian. Power corrupts.

I spent the next three hours bombarding my wife with orders and suggestions. Everything from the way she wastes money on stupid shit, to boosting her low self esteem. And getting her to love exercise and hate junk food. I also planted the seed of polyamory. She is strictly dickly and I didn't fuck with that, too much. But I want her to start to be accepting of me fucking any babe I felt like. I know she would take the suggestions. Yeah let's call them suggestions. I also knew she would try to fight the changes.

I wanted some road head but she had insisted on driving. And frankly, I didn't mind. She had called Phil and told him to put her on the insurance. He had no chance of dissuading her so he fell in line.

We stopped for gas and as I was filling up an electric mustard yellow Jeep CJ-7 backed in at the pump in front of me. When the driver got out my jaw dropped. This girl was a wet dream on heels. The girl next door, cut off denim Daisy Dukes. Red an white gingham, sleeveless button up shirt tied of in the front, exposing her belly button, says the ubiquitous piercing, and cowboy boots that looked like she had worn them on the farm more than a dance floor. Her magnificent tits straining the buttons of her shirt.

"Hello." I winked at her.

She rolled her eyes and gave me an exasperated, "PFFT!"

While she was inside the stop and rob paying I told the wife, "Pay attention and keep your mouth shut and your mind open."

As soon as she got her pump going I tried again, "Hi, what's your name?"

She wasn't having it. "Go away old man, I'm not interested."

"You aren't one for polite conversation, I see. Let's try this again. Come. Here."

She stepped over to the side of the truck, "Tell me your name."

"Cassidy." Confusion with a touch of anger rippled across her face.

"What's your problem, Cassidy? I've been polite. I haven't leered at you or made any impolite comments. I've been a gentleman." Ok yeah maybe it wasn't totally true. But close.

"You are a typical dirty old man. You see what you can't have and try anyway. And I don't like it."

"Wow. All of 19 years old and already cynical and jaded."

"I'm 22," she interrupted.

"Mmmhm, three years makes all the difference. Your pump has clicked off. Give me your phone number, twenty bucks and go buy me a sweet tea." She walked back into the kwikee mart

"Well sweetheart, did you catch that? I have the ability to influence peoples behavior. I wouldn't call it mind control so much as I don't have 100 percent control of the mind."

There was a look of fear and curiosity on Lisa's face, which transformed to anger.

"You sonuvabitch, you used me didn't you. You made me cook, clean and exercise. You made me fuck you. That's ra.."

"THAT'S ENOUGH! STOP!" I took a moment to replace the fuel hose and retrieve my drink and a twenty dollar bill with her number on it from Cassidy.

Thank you, Cassie." I winked

"My name is Cassidy, not Cassie. Not like you'll ever see me again."

Why are young people so rude these days?

"From now on you will ask people to address you as Sid. I will call you at some point in the near future to see how you are adjusting to your new name. If I like your attitude I'll let you choose your name. Now go, and start being polite."

I got back in the truck and said, "Drive."

We drove for about 30 minutes when I said "I am going to talk and you are going to actively listen. No arguments. Remember when you cut me off after my brain twitched during sex. Well it triggered something. It activated a part of my brain that seems to act as a radio transmitter. I can project my will on others. I did use it on you. Several times. But rape. HELL NO! Frankly I would have thought you would have been more pissed because I put a two drink maximum in your head or turned you from a lay around in a pig sty slob into Suzie Homemaker. The only thing I did to you concerning cooking is make you serve dinner at a reasonable hour.

"Did I use it to have sex with you? Yes. Did I make you do anything you don't like? No. I didn't face fuck you, no butt stuff, and I didn't come on you.

"I want you to be a willing partner with me. I don't want to constantly bend you to my will. So you have a choice to make. Let me permanently bend your desires and motivations, let me reshape all your insecurities and bad habits, to your ideals. Or step out of the way and I'll do it my way.

"I do have two new lovers that you will have to accept. I have my own personal doctor and lawyer combo that will do my will. I was in Palo Alto to have my brain checked. She triggered a massive stroke, for lack of a better word, that broadened the scope of my abilities. I can make people do things. Only one person so far has been able to resist me. Several have shown reluctance. And most were pushovers. What is it going to be?"

She sat silently for a long minute. I could tell she was wrestling with herself. The war in her view wasn't about self determination, not about free will and the power to exercise it. The battle was much larger. How can she trust me and can she reconcile my story with her vows.

She has told me almost everyday how much she loves me and she would follow me anywhere. I think she may have just realized that anywhere led down a long, dark road and she didn't want to walk it.

"What have you done to the kids?" The tone of voice she used screamed thin ice asshole.

"All I've suggested is they be motivated to finish high school strong, they won't get locked up, knocked up, or socked up before graduation. And they enjoy cleaning up after themselves and hate fighting with each other and would rather be understanding. Same shit we've been drilling into them for years." I felt a little smug on that front.

She didn't see it that way. "You spent their childhoods drilling responsibilities and the golden rule into them. Teaching them to be individuals, to understand their rights and their duties. And the first chance you get you take that away from them."

"Think about it. We are all being mind controlled everyday. Whether it is the lying news organizations, socialist media, societal mores and norms, or advertising. You have a choice. You can be the controller or the controlled. I just blundered into a way to ensure I won't be controlled. Just because I finally found a way to make our children conform to our standards, doesn't mean I have turned them into automatons. I mean we have spent the better part of two decades trying to make that happen. Haven't we? But hey, if you want to go back to how it was before, no problem. They can be slobs who scream at each other all day every day. I can see you've made your choice.

"And yes, if I find a way to walk into the Capital building and locate every lying sack of shit politician that has ever pissed on the Constitution, every bureaucrat that has ever abused their authority, you can bet I'll have them walk out of their offices straight to the authorities and make them hold a press conference to confess to every crime they ever committed. If you recall I did take an oath 'to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic.' But that seems like more work than I am capable of alone. So forgive me for thinking smaller and trying to make your life a little better."

There was dead silence in the truck as we pulled up to the house.

I walked in and my kids were there, happy and worried and hanging off me. I assured them that everything was fine and I wasn't going to die anytime soon. Dinner was a quiet affair and I spent a tense evening going over my wife's concerns in my head. I had a decision to make.

The next morning I packed my lunch. And I stopped in both my kids rooms. I whispered in their ears. I gave them instructions and told them I loved them and was proud of them. Then I walked into my bedroom, whispered in my wifes' ear, I told her I would always love her and I left her house.

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I spent the morning in Phil's office. Just catching up on the news I missed while I was sidelined in the hospital. After lunch I took a quick survey of the office layout and determined that while there was a few empty cubicles and plenty of space, I didn't want to set up shop with 15 other guys. So I walked across the street to the warehouse. Phill owned 3 buildings down in the industrial part of town, along the old abandoned railroad tracks. The warehouse and the fabrication shop were converted warehouses built to on and offload rail cars. They were probably hundred year old buildings, and they were built to last. The third building was about fifty years newer and across the street. This was the business office.

The warehouse was packed but really only the front half or so saw any regular use. So I wandered back and that's when I found the forgotten staircase leading up to the old warehouse managers office. It was buried behind a rack of roofing panels and 40 years of random shit. I climbed up to the office and forced open the door. Inside was a disaster. 3 inches of rat and pigeon shit covered everything. Old boxes of paper records that had been destroyed by rats, birds and rainwater. There was a window in here that overlooked the warehouse and a broken out one that overlooked the yard between the buildings. I found my new office.

I called the shop foreman and had him loan me a couple of apprentices. One got the fork lift and brought a dumpster over right under the window the other went and got a couple hazmat suits, shovels, and heavy gloves. I had them break out the window completely, then take everything in that room and drop it into the dumpster. I figured there was no reason to try to save any records that were both disgusting and dated as near as I could tell 1987 or earlier.

After a good pressure washing I sent the boys on their way. I pulled measurements on the window, and made up a materials list of what I was going to need in order to build a custom desk and chair for my new office. I figured trying to fight furniture up the stairs would be a bitch and I enjoy furniture making anyway. It clears my mind. I screwed off a sheet of plywood over the open window and laid out a dozen or so glue traps for rats. Batman has the Batcave, Superman has the Fortress of Solitude, Yoda has Dagobah, and I have a tiny, drafty, rat infested office. Seems about right.

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I wandered around the city aimlessly. I needed dinner and a place to sleep. I had walked away from my wife and kids. For what? A stupid power trip? An unfulfilled bucket list? I was depressed and I knew there was only one port in this storm I could count on. My sister would do anything for me. As I would for her. But I was hungry and she can't cook.

I was sitting in a small Italian place. I was the only customer. I was waiting for my calzone al forno when a well dressed blonde walked in and placed an order. She turned, scanning the room for an open table, so I reached under the table with my foot and pushed out the chair across from me, "This seat is available. Join me."

She smiled brightly and sat down. We chatted for a few minutes while waiting for our food. I found out everything I could about her and I really only had to use my special talents a couple times. She was in her late twenties. She didn't volunteer the real number and it wasn't important enough for me to push the issue. She said she was an independent consultant, again I didn't push and when her food came, it was to go. That's when I asked if she lived close and more importantly alone.

I found out she lived around the corner but not alone. She had a roommate who was waiting there for her dinner. I pushed her to invite me over and had my food boxed up. She led me to a condo complex, and invited me in. Her home was well kept and obviously the den of a couple of females. This place needed a man's touch badly.

A tall, voluptuous woman of mixed descent in a wife beater and SpongeBob boxers entered from a side room and she seemed pissed. Hot, but pissed. She was definitely Blasian. And South East blasian at that. Maybe a mix of Georgia and Thai. South East USA meets South East Asia.

"What the fuck, girl? I thought we agreed, no clients at home." She had a slight drawl.

"Yeah, I know, I don't know what I was thinking. He was at the restaurant and I just invited him here to eat. "

"Just eating then, no hoeing?"

Wait what? I was caught off guard by that last word. "Just what kind of consulting do you do?"

The blonde responded, "We are sex consultants, aka escorts, or in the vernacular, high end hookers. We each charge one thousand an hour or $2200 for the double team."

The sexy, dark one chimed in "You got that kind of cash, mister? "

"Oh, sweetheart, I have that kind of cash, but you and blondie are gonna give me a free taste and you are going to love it. Right after dinner. "

Needless to say I wolfed down my chow and went straight for dessert. At this point I decided I needed to know their names. I was planning on just putting the spurs to blondie and leaving without learning her name but I changed my mind.

"Girls, what are your names, and just for your edification my rate is $1500 per girl per hour, upfront." What the Hell? It's worth a shot, I need some walking around cash.

"I'm Ashley, and she's Tigerlilly. We will be right back with the donation. Can we Venmo you?" Blondie asked with hooded eyes.