The Commander Ch 07

This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback.

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If my pancreatic cancer hadn't struck Don so quickly, I would have handled events more gracefully. But I had to make big decisions hastily, and because I was rushed, my worlds were now colliding.

Don Malloy appointed Jet as the executor of his will. Considering his plans at the time, that made sense then. But circumstances changed. Back then, I only lusted after Fiona -- I planned to use her and lose her, like I did all those other women. I didn't really care what she felt. Now I loved her, and I wanted Fiona to get over the old Jet and fall in love with me.

I was juggling three issues. One, as Jet, I was trying to win back Fiona's heart. Two, Fiona's twin sister, Jocelyn, was in danger, and we were harboring her from harm. And third, I had to administer the disposition of Don Malloy's estate, which was going to take time and energy away from the first two objectives.

I had to explain to Fiona why someone Jet had never met decided to appoint Jet as his executor. While thinking how to do that, it occurred to me that, by altering that story by just the tiniest detail, everything fell into place. I rationalized I was fighting fire with fire -- tell a small lie to hide the colossal lie.

On Tuesday morning I told Fiona that, when I started my investment advice practice, I only had a few customers -- not enough to make the business thrive. That was nothing new -- Fiona already knew that company was going nowhere.

Among the very few customers I had, I explained to Fiona, there was this one. We spent hours, days even, talking about finances. And when you talk about finances, you are really talking about life. After all, money is nothing more than a means to live your life at your desired comfort level. So a good financial planner starts with your life goals, and then works backward to determine the financial portfolio you will need to support that way of life.

So while we were talking about finances, I told Fiona that this one customer and I started talking about our lives. Sometimes you can tell a stranger things you could never tell your best friend -- and that is how our discussions went. Over time, we became friends -- maybe even good friends -- and I started sharing details of my life with Don. I eventually discovered Don dispensed better advice than I did, and that's when I knew I would never succeed in this business, and so I eventually closed it down.

Yawn.

"Fiona," I looked into her eyes. We were at the dining room table. Big talks always seemed to happen there. "Don was the one who turned me around. He was the one who told me if I don't do something drastic to change my life, I would lose you. Don was the one who convinced me to smash my own finger, because by taking such an extreme measure against my own body, I would force myself to re-evaluate who I am." I waited for Fiona to absorb what I was saying before driving it home. "Don is the reason the old Jet is gone, and why I am sitting here trying to win you back." I congratulated myself with how close that part of the story was to the truth.

Fiona didn't know where I was going with this. She saw the vulnerable underside of this dynamic. "So, what ..." Fiona critiqued ",,, you go off and talk to Don? About us? About me? How much do you tell him? Did you talk to him yesterday when you went out? Does he know about Jocelyn, you and me? About, you know ...?"

"No," I answered softly. "Don is dead."

"What?"

"Just after I took his advice, and smashed my finger, Don took ill. It turned out to be cancer. He went into the hospital. I couldn't even visit him -- he fell into a coma for a long while, and never recovered." I paused because talking about Don's death was making me emotional. "I got a phone call yesterday morning after you girls went back to bed. He died." I realized my voice cracked as I said that. That was not for effect. I was really shaken.

I didn't understand the sudden intensity of my grief. Yes, Don was dead, but I was still here.

She held my hand for a short while as I recomposed myself. "I'm so sorry." She paused, thinking. "And on top of everything else."

"That's why I am telling you this, Fiona." She looked at me cautiously. "I also found out that Don appointed me as the executor of his will."

"What's an executor?"

"It is the person who processes the will -- who handles all the money."

"So," she asked with a faltering tone, realizing it couldn't be true as she spoke, "you get all his money?"

"No," I offered neutrally. "I distribute Don's money to the people that Don wanted to have it."

"So where does his money go?" I think she was asking out of genuine curiosity, not opportunism.

"I haven't read his will, yet," I replied with the honesty of a lawyer.

"Okay, so ..." she paused in thought, "... why are you telling me all this?"

"Because this is going to take up some of my time. Even without Jocelyn's issues, I feel this is a critical time for us -- for you and me. I think we -- I should say I -- have made some real changes that have allowed us to become closer together. I also know I still have a long way to go before I can earn your complete trust. This is not the best time for me to be dealing with the discharge of someone else's will."

"I think you need to," replied Fiona without hesitation. "I think, if this Dan guy ..."

"Don," I corrected.

"Sorry, Don -- if Don was this important to who you are becoming, and that affects who 'us' is, then you need to do this." I had to admit her argument was very perceptive.

She thought for a while longer. "Jet?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Back before ... before your ... your finger thing ... I didn't think you even cared if you lost me."

"Well, I did, and I didn't." I faked it. "But Don told me something else." She waited while I collected my thoughts.

"I think if he were here today," I offered, "Don would tell you he died a broken and lonely man. He deeply regretted some things he did, and the weight of those regrets haunted Don to his grave." I paused because this was difficult -- I was telling the bare honest truth. "Fiona, back when I was the old Jet, I think Don saw some of himself in me."

"What I'm trying to say, is that, yes -- I am doing all these things to win you back. But I am also -- maybe even mostly -- I am doing this for me. I now know that, if I hadn't changed my life, starting with hitting my finger, then I would surely end up like Don -- broken and lonely." I actually believed that of the old Jet -- except he would have been broken, lonely, and rich.

I paused for a long time. "Don helped me see that I could take a chance -- a chance he never had, or never took -- I don't know -- a chance to make a change -- to make a difference in my life." I paused in reflection. "I don't think I'm explaining this very well, but I think Don would be happy if he knew that, because of him, I changed my life enough to have a chance for you and me to stay together." I was getting emotional, and I was confusing myself with my interlaced truth and lies, so I stopped.

She took my hand again. "That might be the most important thing you told me since this whole thing began." She reflected for a moment.

I thought we were done, but Fiona asked when Don's funeral was going to be. I was stunned to realize I had never thought about that. I explained Don had no family, no friends -- maybe the hospital would do something, but I knew that wasn't true.

"Give the man a proper funeral, Jet," Fiona said. "You owe him that." Great. One more thing on my to-do list -- bury myself.

This was not the way I expected this conversation would go. I was expecting Fiona to be putty in my hands -- all 'boo hoo you lost your friend'. Instead, Fiona was strong. She was wise. She was supportive.

Next I prepared to phone Jason Braggs, president of M.B. Security services. I had to put some thought into the call before I placed it. When I got through to Mr. Braggs, I explained I was a former colleague of Don Malloy.

"How is Don doing?" asked Jason.

"I am sad to report Mr. Malloy passed away yesterday, Mr. Braggs," I replied somberly. "That is partly why I am calling you." I explained I was the executor of Don's will. Don had spoken very highly of Jason, and I thought Jason would like to know the circumstances surrounding Don's death. After I explained about the cancer and coma, Jason thanked me for contacting him, and I could tell he was expecting to wind down this call.

"Mr. Braggs," I continued, "as fate would have it, I have a second reason for calling you. I have an urgent need for your professional services regarding the security of a high value target with a credible threat." I used the lingo I knew Jason would understand. "Mr. Malloy told me that, if ever I needed security work, that I should put you at the top of a very short list."

"You should also know," I continued, "there are complicating factors." I explained 'the target' has an identical twin, and the two are living together with me while one takes refuge from the threat. I explained to him the phone call with the San Antonio police, and how Jocelyn was certain they used the words 'credible threat'. I gave Jason the name and number of the police officer who called Jocelyn. Jason asked me questions and we discussed details for another twenty minutes. I told him we have Jocelyn's separation agreement, and Jocelyn was making a detailed account of everything relevant to her ex-husband's circumstances and the threat against her. He asked me to courier that to him as soon as it was finished, and he gave me the address. He then told me a list of precautions to take, all of which I already knew. Finally we talked about money in very broad terms -- he was trying to gauge if I had sticker shock at a security cost that could exceed one hundred thousand dollars -- I told him that was what I had expected.

"Are you calling locally?" he asked. I said yes. He said he was chocked full this week, but he could meet all three of us Monday morning next week at 0900. "Mr. Terrance," Jason offered, "you seem to already know a bit about the measures you should be taking -- that is good. I feel I need to warn you, that when you come here on Monday, all three of you might be surprised by the changes you will have to endure to protect the safety of the target." I knew exactly what he meant when he said 'the target' -- he was not talking about Jocelyn. "I just want you be sure all of you come here on Monday with an open mind." I assured I would pass the message on, and we hung up.

I spoke to Fiona before leaving for the day. I told her we would have to postpone the dungeon party, at least until the following weekend, because of the security threat to Jocelyn. I told her about the meeting I set up with Jason on Monday. I explained everything would become clearer at that meeting. Fiona didn't understand the reasons why, but she also didn't hesitate to postpone the party -- if this involved Jocelyn's safety, then the decision was already made.

My last chore before leaving home was to give Jocelyn the replacement cell phone I purchased the day before with a new number. I admonished Jocelyn that she shall restrict the use this phone to talk only with Fiona and me. Period. No exceptions -- ever. No, not even the police in San Antonio, I said. I told Jocelyn the police would be taken care of after our meeting with Jason Braggs on Monday. I also admonished Jocelyn from accessing any email accounts or personal web pages that she signs in to, including webmail, FaceBook, Twitter, internet banking -- ANYTHING that asks for a user id and password. Finally, she was not to use any phone to call anybody back home for any reason.

With that done, I kissed Fiona goodbye and went out. The remainder of my day was consumed by Don issues. I went over to Don's house and put together a detailed list of all his financial portfolios. I pulled out my to-do list I made earlier about selling the house, and started making phone calls. Then I called the hospital and a few mortuaries before settling on the funeral home. And finally -- how weird is this -- I wrote my own obituary.

Speaking of FaceBook and the like, I had to shut down all of Don's social network accounts. For FaceBook and Tumblr, I posted the obituary I wrote, and announced that would be the last posting ever on Don Malloy's account, and then changed the passwords for the accounts. For the rest of the social network accounts, I either cancelled them, or decided to just ignore them and let them go stale.

About that time I received a call from Sam Allison -- the estate lawyer. The death certificate had arrived, and he was now ready to sit down with me to review the will. So I met him at three in the afternoon. Before I went to Sam Allison's, I got some tools from Don's basement and I removed all the disk drives from Jet's old file server and laptop with Fiona's dash cam videos on them, and took the hard drives, together with Jocelyn's old cell phone, to a data security company I know, called Kill-O-Bytes. They have these massive shredders that literally tear apart the disk drives -- enclosures and all -- into tiny silicon crumbs. Anything Fiona did in her car was now her secret to keep, and Jocelyn's cell phone and SIM card were irreparably destroyed.

Meanwhile, back at the condo, Fiona helped Jocelyn go through her recollection of Ted's issues and the threats against Jocelyn. They decided to work on the party anyway, even though it was postponed to the following weekend. Fiona had called Nicole, the girl we met at The Arc, and asked for her help in putting together a suitable guest list of six to eight people.

Today was Tuesday, which meant skydiving class was tonight. I drove home. Jocelyn had made a chicken Florentine supper -- it was delicious. Then Fiona and I drove to skydiving class.

"Can Jocelyn live in Don's house until it's safe for her to go back to San Antonio?" Fiona asked me as I drove to skydiving class.

"I thought about that," I answered. "I reviewed his will today with the lawyer, and I don't think that will work." I knew she would ask why, so I continued. "He left everything to charity, and asked for an immediate disposition of assets, when means we have to sell the house quickly."

"Well, she can stay with us, but I am already finding it crowded, and you don't have an office anymore." I think Fiona was fishing, which was fine with me, because I had an idea I wanted to float past her anyway.

"So suppose," I propositioned, "we look at this as an opportunity."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've always thought our condo is a bit small, and I would really like one with a fireplace."

Fiona blinked twice. I had to choke back a laugh -- I completely forgot about that skip. "Supposing we got a condo with two large bedrooms and a den, or even a three bedroom condo? I think it creates all sorts of opportunities."

"Opportunities like what?" She asked.

"Well, Jocelyn could stay with us until she lands on her feet, and we won't all feel so crowded all the time." I paused. "Plus I wouldn't mind have a larger condo that we can grow into."

"Grow into ... Jet, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm talking about long term, Fiona."

"With me?"

"Yes."

"Please stop the car." I pulled over into a spot on the side of the road.

"Jet, are you proposing to me?"

I chose my words very carefully. "Not yet," I offered. "I am like a bird -- I am feathering my nest so that, when I do, there will be a nice place for both of us to live and raise a family."

"Have you discussed this with Jocelyn," Fiona asked quickly.

"God no!" I refuted. "Why would you even ask that?"

Fiona thought for a while. She was struggling with an internal debate. Finally she said "Jocelyn has spoken to me three times about us all having sex together. She even thinks I should be okay if she fucked just you -- without me there. Do you know anything about that?"

"Fiona," I said, deflecting the question, "I know nothing about what you and Jocelyn discuss about sex."

"So you didn't put her up to this?"

"I'm not sure I would know how," I continued to evade.

"Its just that ..." Fiona stopped. "You know what I told you about Jocelyn before she came here."

"Yes," I agreed. "But she seems to me to have been nothing but a pillar of support for you."

"I know," Fiona replied. "I'm trying to figure this out."

"Maybe she's just horny," I offered as a plausible explanation.

"Jet, please."

"Well, what do you think it means?" I reflected the questioning back to her.

"Until you talked about feathering your nest, I didn't worry about it -- I just figured it's just more three-ways and parties. Although her fucking you alone was strange. But even there, Jocelyn was very clear when she spoke to me -- she wanted everything out in the open -- nothing behind my back, which is not her old style. But now you are talking about a larger condo, and Jocelyn is talking about endless sex, and I hear you saying you are thinking about our long term future, and you're feathering our nest, and well, you see the problem." I didn't, exactly, but I also didn't want to chase Fiona down whatever that rabbit hole she was talking about.

"I don't see how these things are connected," I offered instead.

"That's just it," Fiona replied. "Neither do I."

I waited for her to continue, but there was no more. "So, we better get to class", I cautioned.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed. I pulled the BMW back out into the street and we drove in silence.

She broke the silence as we pulled into the skydiving class parking lot. "When are you planning to propose to me?"

"When I know that you love me," I replied without hesitation.

After class, Fiona brought up the subject of sex again as we drove home.

"Do you think I should let Jocelyn fuck you?" she asked.

"I don't think we can answer that until after you and I have had the bigger discussion about sex with outside people."

"So then," she continued, "what is your take on sex with other people?"

"I would have to say," I thought for a moment, "that if -- and I say if -- we have sex with other people, there have to be very clear rules."

"Such as?" she prodded.

"No secrets. Everything is in the open. That's the biggest one."

"And you would be okay knowing I am fucking some other guy?"

"One guy on a regular basis, no," I clarified. "I am talking about casual."

"But to be clear," she pressed on, "you are okay with me fucking other guys casually?"

"Especially if I am in the room, yes." She raised her eyebrows at that. "If I am not there, then I would like to know, in advance, who the guy is."

"So you'd like to watch me fuck someone?"

"Again, not on a regular basis. On a regular basis, I want to be the guy fucking you. But every once in a while -- absolutely -- I'd love to watch you do another guy."

"And so that's what you think I should say to you -- I mean about letting you fuck other girls?"

"No," I retorted, "I was hoping you would have your own opinion."

"And what if I say 'no' -- no outside sex?"

"Then there is no outside sex, no further discussion, and no hard feelings," I asserted. I was serious.

"I'm getting mixed signals from you," she observed.

"Look, you asked my opinion, and I ..."

"No," Fiona interrupted, "I'm not talking about just now. I mean there's Leticia, and I don't know how many other girls you had on the side. And even since your finger banging, we've had two three-ways with Nicole, one with that girl at the airport, and two with Jocelyn. It seems to me you are very in favor of outside sex."

"I'm not going to try to defend or even discuss what I did during my dark days," I tried escaping from her legitimate concern about Leticia, "because that wasn't who I am now. But in all those three-ways you mentioned," I challenged, "how many happened because I started out saying I wanted a three-way?"