Whims of the Rich

Whims of the Rich

Flint Wheeler

Jack closed the door behind him and pulled his camcorder out of the bag. In the nearly empty house, the zipper echoed faintly. He slung the bag over his shoulder, straightened his new tie (Tricia had given it him for their anniversary), and started recording.

If Jack was going to pay next month’s mortgage installment, he would have to move this house. When he and Tricia had gotten married, Jack had the idea that they would be able to pay the bills with their love alone. Well, that wasn’t cutting it anymore. His private real estate business did alright, but the bills were starting to pile up in ways that Jack hadn’t anticipated.

The inside of this house wasn’t too bad, but the fucking neighbors were a nightmare. They hadn’t used their lawn mower in years. Jack wouldn’t have believed they even owned one, except it sat rusting in plain view of the curb. That was why he was videotaping a walkthrough of the house. He figured he might be able to stimulate interest in the house without anyone actually having to see the neighbors.

Instead of showing the house to a prospective buyer, Jack showed the house to the camcorder, narrating as he went. Jack was nervous at first, but after a while he started enjoying himself. By the time he made it to the back of the house, Jack was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t hear the moans until he opened the door to the master bedroom. He was greeted with the sight of a pale, slightly hairy, humping butt crack. It was spreading a pair of very shapely, tanned legs.

Jack froze for a moment, unsure of what was supposed to happen next. He expected the couple to notice his presence, but the butt crack continued humping and the girl started to get louder.

Finally, Jack found appropriate words. He said sharply, “What the fuck!” The old guy pulled out and turned around, revealing gray chest hair and a tiny penis. The very, very young girl sat up and looked straight into the camera. Her underage face was frozen for a perfect, incriminating moment, then she dove under the sheets. Jack turned back to the man, who just stood there. The man’s face slowly reddened as the blood drained from his quickly diminishing squirt of an erection.

Four years later and many miles from the house (now sold), a much more finely dressed Jack sat at the boardroom table, seemingly attentive. He sat three chairs to the right of Oscar Stoe, of the highest company standing and smallest phallic equipment. Jack’s mind was on his new watch, a plan that would hopefully surprise the hell out of Tricia, and the impending heart attack of Richard, the dick sitting across the table and one chair to his right. When Richard choked, Jack would move up a seat, the stock options would be cashed out to Richard’s grieving widow (she wouldn’t mind, she looked damn sexy in black), and the shares would be redistributed among the surviving board members. Some desk jockey would be promoted, and the table would move on to the next order of business. And it would happen soon, you could read the man’s heart rate from the throbbing vein in his forehead.

Oscar was wrapping things up now. He slowed his speech down and started pointing at the people at the far end of the table, motivation for them to carry on their productive scurrying. He occasionally made eye contact with the front row people for a – Yes, Oscar, we know you have the biggest dick in the room – look, then continued brain-washing the troops.

Jack smiled smugly to himself. He wasn’t ashamed of his blatant use of blackmail to get his position in the company. It turned out that the small dicked man was Oscar Stoe, and the lovely young girl was the daughter of one of Oscar’s clients. Four years ago, Jack had been getting bored with real estate. So when he and Oscar sat down to hammer out the details of the deal (blackmail, really), Jack asked for an appointment in the company rather than a cash settlement. So long as Oscar kept sending the paychecks to Jack’s door, Jack would keep pretending that he didn’t know how small Oscar’s penis was, and no one would have to know that Oscar was a felon in all fifty states. Everyone came away a winner.

In the board room, files were being tucked into suitcases and cell phones were being checked. No one stretched, because that was a sign of fatigue, which was a sign of stress, which was a sign of weakness.

Oscar put a hand on Jack’s shoulder as he stood. In his rough, pack-a-day scratched voice, he said, “Can I see you for a moment, Jack?”

Jack made sure his sleeve hiked up well above his wrist as he checked the time. “Sure, I can make a minute, Oscar.”

Oscar commented, “Nice watch, Jack. Vacheron. Classy choice. Very understated.”

Jack smiled. With the due respect paid, he added, “But I wanted to call that advertising firm to follow up on our meeting before I left today, so it’ll have to be quick.”

Oscar smiled back, and this time Jack had to admit defeat. Oscar’s dental caps were far more natural looking that his own. “No problem. It will only take a minute.”

They walked together to Oscar’s expensively furnished office. Jack didn’t sit down, and he politely refused the offered cigar. Oscar pulled a small jar out of his desk and swallowed a pill before lighting his cigar and taking a deep drag. No one in the office knew what the pills were for, but Oscar certainly didn’t look unhealthy. He savored the tobacco and tar seeping into his lungs. After blowing a cloud of smoke over his imported desk, he said, “Richard’s not looking so hot these days, is he?”

Jack laughed. “Well, Oscar, give the man a break. You’ve got him working the most technical account we run, the man smokes more than a Kuwaiti oil well, and just between you and me, Big Dick has been having problems living up to his wife’s expectations.”

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “And how did you come by that information?”

Jack said, “Our wives do hot yoga together. His wife says the sweat is the only kind of wet she can get these days.” The men chuckled together, rocking back on their expensive shoes. The laughter died quickly, though.

Oscar got back to business. “Maybe you can see why I’m not exactly looking for more work to throw his way. I’m afraid he’d get real deep into the case, you know, get the clients comfortable, then up and die on us. Couldn’t have that.”

Jack agreed. “No, you certainly couldn’t.”

Oscar continued, “So I’m going to have to start assigning cases elsewhere, redistribute the work load a little. You’ve been doing good work, real good work. So I’m going to give you the Harrah’s Resort and Casino account.”

Jack was surprised. “You mean that expansion deal they’re working on out in Tustin?”

Oscar smiled, pleased that his gift was well received. “Yes, the very one. They’re buying up all the residential plots in the area before homeowners can get settled in. You know how people bitch and squirm when someone wants to build a casino in their back yard.”

“Of course. I don’t blame them, but I’m not complaining, either. More work for us. Me, apparently.”

Oscar continued. “Right. I think your background in real estate is going to be a real plus here.”

Pleased at the ego stroking, Jack said, “Well of course. You’ll email me the file?”

“You bet. I’ll send it to you right after I call back my fucking plumber.” Oscar’s face darkened. Jack could see he was stressing about something. “You wouldn’t believe the shit he pulled out of my toilet yesterday.” It was obvious Oscar had big news to spill, but Jack didn’t want to spend another ten minutes hearing about Oscar’s shit. Literally.

Jack said, “Well, when you call the owner, tear him a new asshole. See how much you owe him when he has a lawsuit hanging over his head.”

Oscar paused, then decided to let whatever was on his mind go. “That’s exactly my plan. Give the cheating bastards what they deserve.” They took a moment to reflect on the thin morals of plumbers.

After a suitable pause, Jack said, “Well, I’ve got to get going.”

“Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow, Jack.”

The two men shook hands, and Jack walked out the door.

Oscar watched as Jack sailed out of the office. The twit was so full of himself that he actually believed Oscar liked him. It was like he’d forgotten his reason for being in the company. Oscar jammed the mostly unsmoked cigar into an expensive ashtray on his desk. Jack had him by the balls, and Oscar hated it.

He had a hard time thinking with Jack buzzing around, constantly reminding Oscar of his one misstep in an otherwise successful career. He’d given Jack the Harrah’s account because the clients wanted to meet in Las Vegas, and getting Jack out of town for a few days would give Oscar some space to think. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a different bottle of pills. It was such a pain in the ass to keep up with the damn medication schedule. He swallowed the pill and tried to push that out of his mind. Right now he had a lot to think about.

Jack returned to his office and made a quick call, but not to an advertising firm. He was calling Maressa, Oscar’s wife. He hung up after a few words and turned around, surveying his office. Really, it was Oscar’s office. Oscar’s phone, too. Jack smiled at the irony as he pulled the keys to his Mercedes Benz out of his pocket and took the elevator to the garage.

He barely beat rush hour traffic and pulled into Oscar’s house twenty minutes after he left the office. The gateman smiled as he earned a modest hush-hush bonus from the lady of the house. Jack left his car in the shaded front driveway and jogged up the steps to the mansion. He’d combed his hair and sucked on a mint in the car, so he knew he was in good shape.

The front doors opened into a grand reception area. The room was circular, with arching staircases on either side. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling and washed the ornately decorated room in imitation candlelight. A lone table sat in the middle of the marble floor, giving a reason to showcase an expensive vase and massive bouquet of flowers. Maressa stood at the top of the right-hand staircase.

Her short mahogany hair kissed her deeply tanned shoulders and framed her face. She made a point of not wearing makeup. It emphasized the fact that she was beautiful enough to walk among her cosmetically enhanced social circles and draw envious glances from wives and husbands alike.

She spent hours swimming in the private beach behind the estate, as evidenced by her long legs. She showed them and the rest of her assets off with a short, white dress that clung to her frame and left little to the imagination. A pair of white heels completed the image. Her elevated position showed Jack that she wore nothing underneath the dress.

She spoke. “Well, are you going to stand there all day looking at me, or come up here and have some fun?”

Jack smiled broadly, feeling his body responding to the anticipation. “Maybe I’ll talk you down from your little loft and we’ll explore the kitchen together. I still haven’t seen it.”

She sighed, smiling. As she slowly walked down the stairs, she said, “What, are you trying to fuck me in every room of this house? We have twenty seven of them, you know.”

“Well then, we’re almost there. Maybe we should save the kitchen for another day.”

She stopped descending the staircase, halfway down. She leaned against the railing and asked, “What are we going to do then?” although her tone suggested that she already had an idea.

Jack got the hint and answered, “You stay right there,” and started jogging up the stairs.

Afterwards they went to the balcony, not bothering with clothes. Jack smiled as he laid back in a deck recliner. The sun felt good on his skin. Maressa leaned on the railing in front of him, smoking a cigarette. Jack thought the view was better from where he was laying.

She blew a stream of smoke over her shoulder, looking at Jack as she did so. He said, “Isn’t it that a little stereotypical of you? The cigarette, I mean.”

She turned around and rested her elbows behind her on the railing. He couldn’t decide which side he liked more. She said, “What fun is this whole affair thing if I can’t play it up a little?”

He shrugged, “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun. I certainly am. But don’t try and bullshit me into believing that’s the only reason you’re doing this.”

She sat down on the edge of the recliner, letting her hand do some exploring. He liked exploring. “Ah yes, the motive. Well, ok, if you’d prefer to be blunt about this, I guess that works for me. You still have the videotape, yes?”

He let his head hang back as she intensified her exploring. “Yes, of course. You think I’d lose my meal ticket?”

She purred, “At this point it’s getting you more than a meal. I’d think this,” she had to pause as she orally emphasized her point, “would be enough for you to hand it over right now.”

He chuckled. “Oh, no way you’re getting it that easy.”

She abruptly stopped. “Fine, if you insist on making this a business deal, no more seconds.”

He smiled as he cupped her face. “You would be more successful if you bargained first, then fucked my brains out.”

She sighed sadly. “I guess. But I married Oscar because he was a big shot lawyer with a big house and a big car. I was kind of hoping he’d be big all around. And, well… You’ve seen it.” They shared a laugh.

“Well, I’m glad I can be of service to you. And you’ll get a copy of the videotape, no worries. So long as your son can deliver your side of the deal.”

She sighed. “I’m afraid he’s like his father, dick-wise. He might not be able to hold your wife’s attention for very long.”

Jack smiled at the idea of Oscar Stoe’s future lineage, bearing tiny badges as a salute to the great man that founded their inheritances. “So long as he can talk smooth and get her to have sex with him once, I’ll be happy. You’re sure he won’t flush the condom? That’s what I did, before Oscar got you on birth control. If I’m going to scare my wife away from any kind of alimony payments, I’ll need some kind of evidence.”

Maressa responded as she let her hand return to its exploring. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell him to leave it in a trash can. The only question is, will your wife bite?”

Jack closed his eyes as he gave in. “Oh, I haven’t fucked her in three months. She’s so horny she’ll practically have to.”

Jack eased into his home office chair and waited for his computer to power up. Maressa called him on his way home from the mansion. Apparently, Oscar had pulled up less than fifteen minutes after Jack left. Maressa was thrilled they’d cut it so close, but Jack realized that was just plain dangerous. As his garage door closed behind him, he reminded himself this was not the time to fuck up.

If his plan worked, he could eliminate Tricia from his life in one clean slice and be free. He’d married her because he thought he was in love, but a few weeks after moving into Oscar’s firm, Jack had realized something about love. It was boring. Love was the next best thing to money, and now that he had the best thing, he wanted to really enjoy it. Tricia was pretty good at sex, but her main limitation was that there was only one of her.

So if Maressa’s son, Randy, could get his shit together long enough for one lousy seduction, Jack would be set. After Maressa got the video, she would use it to divorce Oscar and take all his money. Jack would quit the firm before Oscar had the chance to fire him, and Jack would go back into real estate. Only this time, he’d have flash and a high-class client list. After the divorce, he could sell enough houses to make a comfortable living during the day, and go to nightclubs with a different girl every night. Jack looked forward to it immensely.

Once his computer was booted, he checked his email. Good old Oscar had sent him a bundle of information on the Harrah’s deal. Jack was actually proud of being given this assignment. Lately, he’d been trying to look lawyerly at the legal firm, and apparently he was a fantastic actor.

The initial consultations were to be held in the Las Vegas Harrah’s, which meant an all expenses paid business trip. He’d leave tomorrow, Wednesday, and return on Friday. He’d be home in time for the weekend, when he could relax, go golfing… and, according to the end of the email, attend a private dinner party at Oscar’s? What the hell was this shit? Oscar explained that it was so they could discuss how the meeting went.

“Well you can read about it in the fucking report, asshole.” Jack’s weekends were his own time, the last thing he wanted to do was spend it cozying up to his prick of a boss.

It was, however, not a bad thing that Oscar was taking a liking to him. There would be more clients and less chance of getting caught with his hand up the wife’s cookie jar, but still. The weekend?

The truth was that he knew he would be there. He’d be done with all this soon enough, he couldn’t afford to get reckless now.

He yelled out the door to Tricia, who was downstairs reading. “Honey, we have to go to Oscar’s for dinner on Saturday. Some bullshit work thing, I’m really sorry about it.” He heard her voice drifting up the stairs, it sounded like she said it might be fun.

Well, maybe if he and Maressa could squeeze in a quickie it would be fun. His wife, boss, and lover in the same house, at the same time. Now that was dangerous.

He was standing up to head downstairs and apologize to Tricia for missing dinner when his cell phone rang.

He picked it up and Maressa’s sultry voice said, “Hello.”

Just in case, he kept his voice all business. “Hey there. Surprised to hear from you again. Did you get that memo in to Ricky?”

She laughed. “Is your wife there or something?”

Jack leaned against his desk. “It’s always a possibility.” He knew Tricia wasn’t listening, but decided to humor Maressa’s thirst for theatrics.

She lowered her voice. He was right, she was loving this. “Well then, yes, I did talk to Randy and he’s just thrilled to meet your wife. He’s making me pay him, though, the little sleaze ball.”

Jack cleared his throat and said, “What a hardass. I’ll see about reimbursing you for that.”

Maressa sounded offended. “I hope you’re not talking about giving me money, Jack.”

He couldn’t hide a chuckle. “Of course not. You know I have other resources at my disposal.”

She purred, “Good. You know how I like it.” She paused, then remembered something. “Although you better wait a few days. Oscar’s really got a stick jammed up his ass over something. I think it was our fat plumber.”

Internally, Jack sighed in relief. He enjoyed danger too, but after today’s close call, he didn’t want to push his luck. “That’s fine, I’ll be out of town for the next few days on business, anyway.”

“Perfect. It will give my son a wonderful opportunity to get his tiny little penis wet. Did you tell your wife to expect the pool boy?”

Jack let himself smile a little. “Not yet, but I’ll take care of it.”

“Good. There is one more thing, though.” Jack tensed in concern, but she continued before he could ask. “Whatever crawled up Oscar’s ass and died had something to do with Randy, because after work today, Oscar beat the shit out of him. Really fucked him up good, you know? Randy wouldn’t tell me what about, but I got the idea it was business related, so I didn’t ask.”

“Will he still be able to…” Jack caught himself. “Carry out his responsibilities?”

Maressa sounded confident, and Jack felt better. “Yeah, he says he’ll play it up to his favor. Use the pity card, you know?”

“So long as it works, I don’t care how he does it.”

He could hear her smile through the phone. “You’re always one for finishing the job, Jack.” She paused, then said in a different voice, “Well, lover boy, I have to take my meds. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jack stood and untucked his shirt as he strode out the door. “Ok then, see you tomorrow before I leave for the airport, Oscar.” He heard her laughing as he hung the phone up and walked downstairs.

He stood behind the couch and gently rubbed Tricia’s shoulders. “Sorry about dinner tonight, honey. But you know how the office gets.” He thought of this as wife maintenance, just keeping suspicions at bay. After a little office talk he’d tell her to expect the pool cleaner on Thursday, and then about his business trip. Which reminded him, he had a few calls to make right after he printed out his boarding passes. He didn’t want just any whore off the street to keep him entertained between meetings, and he certainly didn’t want to catch anything.

The next morning, Jack rose early and slipped out of the room, grabbing his professional-looking suitcase on the way. Tricia had helped him pack, then wanted to give him a proper send off. It was difficult to refuse her, but Jack had to keep her primed for Randy. He could read the disappointment in her eyes, and he could tell his usual excuse of hard work and early mornings was starting to wear thin. He smiled to himself as he reflected on what her condition must be like after three months of no sex. He pitied her.

The drive to work was effortless because it was so early. He took the elevator up to the empty office and started collecting a few papers from his desk. He was interrupted by a polite knock on his open door. It was Oscar, looking fresh as ever.

“Hey Jack. I have a few files to give to you before you leave,” more files? The email had included about twenty attachments, and Jack almost ran out of paper when he printed them all. But Oscar was still talking. “So I’ll just have it taken down to the lab today and you’ll be good to go.”

Jack had to back track. “Sorry, what was that? Have what taken down to the lab?”

Oscar patiently explained himself, again. “The Harrah’s execs are kind of, well… Paranoid. One of them in particular is terrified of catching those weird jungle viruses, so they want everyone they meet to be blood tested.”

“What the hell? That’s ridiculous. They must interact with dozens of people a day to do their job.”

Oscar paused, then said, “Those dozens of people have all been tested. I know it’s completely unreasonable, but they’re the ones with the money. And if you don’t get tested, they’ll find someone who will. And it won’t be difficult.”

Jack understood the implication. If he refused this blood test, he’d be missing out on a business opportunity. People who had worked their way to the top never missed a business opportunity, and Jack wanted to do everything he could to cement his legitimacy.

He said, “Alright. So do I need to stop at the clinic on the way to the airport?”

“No, you won’t have to go out of your way. I called a tech from the lab last night, he’s waiting in my office.”

Jack was a little surprised at the lengths to which Oscar was going for this. But he resigned himself as he followed Oscar to his office. The technician was waiting with a syringe and Velcro tourniquet. Jack sat in the chair and Oscar nodded to the technician. The man was professional and gently went through the procedure. After he capped everything off and put the band aid on Jack’s forearm, he handed Jack a box of orange juice.

A little regretfully, he said, “We’re supposed to recommend that you don’t fly within twenty four hours after we take blood, but Mr. Stoe has been very insistent that this has to happen right now.” The technician seemed slightly baffled, but also accustomed to carrying out the whims of the rich. “Eat some food as soon as possible. The more sugar, the better. If you get light headed or dizzy, sit down immediately. If it gets worse, call 911.”

Oscar patted him on the shoulder. “That’s enough, son. Don’t worry, we won’t sue you. Just make sure you run those tests and get the lab report back to me as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir.” The technician gathered his things and left.

Jack got up, intending to follow him to the elevator, but Oscar said, “Hold up a minute, Jack.”

Jack paused, watching as the technician called the elevator. It would have to travel fifty floors down, then back up again before Jack could escape. Whims of the rich. He tried to contain his sigh. “No problem Oscar. What’s up?”

“Well, first, don’t say anything about the tests to the Harrah’s execs. They don’t like being called out on their paranoia.” Who would? It was odd that Oscar was telling him this, though. Jack nodded anyway and Oscar continued, smiling an insider’s smile, “And second, I just thought you would like a few phone numbers for your stay in Vegas.”

Jack’s ears pricked up. “What kind of phone numbers?”

“Well, I imagine you know better than to do any street shopping for… Entertainment, yes?”

Jack liked where this was going. “Yes, of course. I already made some arrangements, though.”

Oscar’s smile widened. “Good man. However, I expect you’ll find what my friend has to offer…very appealing. It will be worth cancelling your other plans. Especially since it will be included in your expenses.”

Suddenly it was alright that Jack would have to wait another three minutes for the elevator. “Well, thank you Oscar. Thank you very much.”

Jack had a fantastic weekend in Las Vegas. The Harrah’s executives were agreeable and didn’t seem weird at all. Their questions were all fairly simple and the paperwork was minimal. He handed out his card, and hinted that he might soon know of some exciting houses entering the market. At night, Jack found Oscar’s friend did know some very attractive young women, and they came dressed in only the shortest skirts and smallest blouses. They, like Maressa, didn’t bother with underwear. With such enticing things to look forward to, Jack wasn’t surprised at how fast the rest of the week flew by. Even his Benz had survived valet parking at the airport.

Still thinking about the previous night’s fun, Jack pulled into his driveway almost before he realized he was home. As the garage door closed behind him, all the important things he’d forgotten about over the last three days lit back up in his mind.

Maressa’s son, Randy, was supposed to have seduced his wife by now. He would have to make a copy of the video tape to give to Maressa. He’d email it to her as soon as he found the condom.

He’d have to prepare a letter of resignation. Maressa wouldn’t wait long to spring the divorce on Oscar, so Jack would send his email just before he and Tricia left for the party on Saturday night. Oscar would fire Jack as soon as Maressa showed him the tape, but so long as the time stamp was on Jack’s email, Oscar couldn’t get the satisfaction.

After dumping his bags in the hallway, Jack walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. There was a note on the door from Tricia, she was out with her girlfriends at the mall. What was she, sixteen?

Jack pulled out his cell phone and dialed. That sultry voice that made his balls tingle answered, “Hello Jack. How was the trip?”

“Oh it was alright. The Harrah’s execs were real hard asses.” Maressa would never know the difference, and it felt good to bitch about something.

“Poor baby. I’m sure the hookers kept you entertained at night.”

She would bring that up. Well, no sense in lying about it. “Not nearly as much as you.” As an afterthought, he added, “I can’t wait till Saturday. I want to fuck you while my wife sips your red wine.”

She laughed. “I would enjoy that.” She corrected herself. “I will enjoy that.”

Jack savored the thought for a moment, then remembered his reason for calling. “Speaking of my wife…”

“Ah, yes.” He could imagine her eyes flash with the excitement. “I was still worried that what Oscar did to Randy’s face would get in the way of our plans, but Randy assured me it wouldn’t be a problem. So I gave him the condom as he walked out the door, and later that afternoon…” She trailed off, holding Jack in suspense. He knew she would break before he did, though. “Aw, Jack, you’re no fun. Anyway, he said she was real concerned about his face, took him in and gave him an icepack. I’m sure she heard that a gang of guys jumped him with crowbars, but whatever.” She paused for a moment, then added matter-of-factly, “Anyway, he fucked her. He said he tossed the condom in your kitchen trash.” Jack looked at the silver trash can. The keystone to his plan. “Jack, you there?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just that I’m in the kitchen now.”

She laughed, “Well don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t forget, this only stays between you, me, and my little boy if you give me that video tape. Mommy needs to take Daddy for all he’s worth.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll email it to you tomorrow.” Her end of the line went quiet for a moment. He knew the feeling. He added, “It’s a shame, you know. We won’t have time to finish our tour of your estate.”

Her voice hardened and she didn’t sound terribly disappointed when she said, “Well, nobody ever said life was fair.”

Jack agreed. “No, they didn’t. See you tomorrow. And I won’t forget to send you that email.”

The strength of her response scared Jack a little. “You better not.” She hung up before he did and he was left a little off balance.

However, he had more important things to think about. He opened a drawer and picked out a Ziploc baggie, then he opened the trash can. He had to dig a little, but he found it. Maressa was right; like father like son. Using the baggie, Jack pulled out the extra small condom and sealed it up. Exhibit A.

Tricia came home an hour later. They said hi, and during commercial breaks he told her about his trip. She seemed distracted, like she had something on her mind. Jack smiled to himself when she excused herself to go to bed early.

That night he decided to test her out. He started kissing the back of her neck and snaked his arm around to caress her breasts. She lay perfectly still until he started to slide his hand down. Then she stopped him, apologizing and saying she wasn’t in the mood tonight. He said that was alright, and rolled over with a smile on his face.

She actually felt guilty. He realized she was an amazing woman, although a growing, hardening part of him wished she could get over it for just a couple of minutes.

Jack woke up late the next day. Tricia was already out of bed. He got coffee and read the paper; she was outside gardening. They spent most of the day avoiding each other, but Jack enjoyed each time they crossed paths. She tried to avoid direct eye contact, and he relished her apparent guilt. She knew nothing about concealing her true emotions.

It was three thirty when he decided that he’d ask for a divorce in the car, on the way to dinner. He’d tell her he found the condom, and say that her gross disregard for the sanctity of their union meant she would receive zero alimony.

Jack imagined that by the time they arrived, Maressa would already have shown Oscar the videotape. Oscar wouldn’t want to make a scene, even in his own house. Jack would be able to watch both his wife and his boss squirm at the dinner table. It sounded like fun.

Tricia started getting ready two hours before he did. She was usually fast, but as far as he could tell from glimpses into the bathroom, she was taking more pains than usual with her appearance. He didn’t get a good look at her when he went in to take his shower because she moved to the guest bathroom to finish. She took an armful of cosmetics with her, but she left behind more stuff than Jack knew she owned.

After showering, Jack put on his best suit and diamond cufflinks. Tonight was going to be special. He was mildly interested to see the result of Tricia’s primping, but nothing could detract from the excitement of a trap nearly sprung. He lightly stepped into his office and attached a video file titled ‘Oscar’s Wild Adventure’ to an email and sent it to Maressa. Next he sent his letter of resignation to Oscar. Then he closed the window and shut down his computer.

He walked downstairs and checked his watch. Game time. This was about to be the best drive of his life.

He raised his voice and called into the bathroom. “Tricia, time to go.”

Her answer was neither hurried nor strained. Jack couldn’t believe her tone as she said, “Just fifteen more minutes, Jack.” She sounded annoyed, like he was hassling her. What the fuck? Who did she think she was? In the car he’d been planning on breaking the news to her slowly, but not anymore. He wanted to scream and cuss and call her a lying, cheating whore! He would yell so much that she would have to wipe his spit from her face. He threw himself into the couch and angrily flipped through the channels on TV.

He waited seven minutes, then stood up. He left the TV on. She hated it when he did that.

As he passed by the bathroom, he said loudly, “I’ll be waiting in the car.” He couldn’t make out her response.

Jack settled into the leather seat of the Benz. The analog clock mounted in the dashboard counted the minutes away. Every tick was fuel for Jack’s rage. The light in the garage automatically turned off and he stewed in the dark. He had to remind himself not to hit her when she got in the car, he couldn’t have any abuse counted against him.

Finally, the door to the garage opened. The motion sensor clicked on and yellow light washed over the garage, illuminating the most stunning woman he’d ever seen. His anger forgotten, he watched as Tricia’s long legs strode in front of the Benz’s hood. They were showcased by a short yet tasteful black cocktail dress that also did justice to her ample breasts. Her long, dark brown hair hung straight down past her shoulders. In her left hand she held a small purse that Jack didn’t recognize. She stopped in front of the passenger door and tried the handle.

She tapped on the glass. “You going to let me in, Jack?” Her voice was muffled by the closed door, but even so it moved something in Jack’s chest, and then in something a little lower. She tapped again, and this time he pushed the button that unlocked the doors. She pulled the door open. First one, then the other slender leg entered the car. The rest of her magnificent body was not far behind.

“Jack, you’re staring.”

He almost had to shake his head to think straight again. “Sorry. It’s just, you look… Beautiful.” He had to dig deep for the word, but as he looked into her dark eyes, he knew it was the right one.

She tossed her hair and looked out the side window. “Well, let’s get going.”

Right. Driving. Jack opened the garage door and backed out, fumbling a little with the gears. He got it right, though, and pulled onto the residential street. His mind was roaring, trying to settle itself. There was a little, bent man in the corner of his head, weakly chanting, “Stick to the plan, stick to the plan.” Jack tried to listen to him, but there were a lot of second thoughts chasing themselves through his brain. And, on top of it all, his dick had woken up to see what all the fuss was about.

Once he realized that, though, he calmed a little. His dick. That was it. He told himself, Think with your dick. He wanted to have sex with Tricia, right now. But, in the long term, he wanted to have sex with a lot of women. It was either Tricia or them, and even though it had nearly escaped him, he grabbed hold of his common sense and made the right decision.

That had been too close, and had taken too long. While his mind was chasing itself in circles twenty minutes had passed, and Jack could barely believe it as he saw the exit. He pulled off the freeway, reordering his thoughts. It took him a few minutes, but he finally had it. She cheated on him. He would divorce her. She would get nothing, he would keep everything. Oscar’s house was close to the exit, and it was not long before Jack pulled into the familiar gate, stopping in front of the steps. This was all happening too fast.

He decided he’d ease into it. He cleared his throat and said, “So, did the pool boy do a – ”

“Shut up, Jack.” He was astonished, stopped cold by the steel in those words.

He fumbled, feeling like he’d jumped into an icy lake. He said, “What did you – ”

“I said shut up, Jack.” She turned and locked eyes with him. Jack felt his spine freeze as she spoke. “You are an asshole, Jack.” He was speechless. She took a breath and said, “You’re a lying,” Jack felt himself shrink in the seat, “cheating,” watched his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, “asshole! You set me up so I would cheat on you, you fucking asshole!”

For Jack, there was one good thing about being totally fucked. His primal survival mode took over. It brought clarity and broke the situation down so he could act. He didn’t know how, but somehow she knew. He needed time to figure a way to wiggle out of this, or at least minimize his losses. He cleared his throat again and said, “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, let’s go inside.”

She tossed her hair and said icily, “Oh yes, let’s.”

They walked up the stairs and he rang the doorbell. Oscar immediately opened the door. He was dressed casually in khaki dress pants and a green polo, and as he stood back to let them in, he looked smug. Triumphant. Jack didn’t like it one bit. Maressa was standing behind the table with the flowers, looking slightly confused. Jack heard a cough from the top of the stairs, and when he looked he saw a young man standing at the railing. His face was badly bruised, and it looked like he had stitches under his lip. Randy. What the hell was this?

Oscar’s voice filled the entryway. “Fuck you, Jack.”

Jack hoped this was a prank of some sort. He looked at Maressa, who didn’t seem to know what was happening either. Tricia crossed her arms when he looked at her. Jack decided his best chance was with Oscar, so he asked, “Oscar, what’s going on?”

Oscar smiled bitterly as he said, “You, Jack, are about to fall a long, long way down. And you, my dear,” he turned to Maressa, “will get a shove, too. I imagine you’ll take me down with you. But excuse me, I believe Tricia should have the honor of starting tonight.”

Jack turned to look at her. She stared right back at him. “Randy rang our doorbell on Thursday afternoon, and I almost called the cops. His face was destroyed. Before I could get the phone he said he had a message from Oscar Stoe. I recognized your boss’s name, so I listened. He explained Oscar was his dad, and they’d been having some plumbing problems recently. One of their toilets backed up, apparently, and coughed up a condom. Oscar knew it couldn’t be his because, well…” Here she seemed at a loss.

Oscar stepped in. “It’s fine, he’s so fucked right now, I don’t care that his dick is bigger than mine.”

She continued. “The condom was too big to be his. Or Randy’s. So he knew something was up. He didn’t know where to start, so he did the first thing he could think of.” It was obvious she was disgusted at his actions, but she was far too pissed to really care. “He beat the shit out of his son. Randy thought Oscar figured out the plan to seduce me. He thought he was in trouble, though he wasn’t sure why.” Jack started to feel the walls closing him around him.

Here, Oscar took the reins. “It took me half an hour to understand what he was blabbering about, but even then it still didn’t make sense. Maressa paying him to seduce your wife? Why Randy? Why would he, of all people, be involved in this? Then, I remembered that our gate has electronic surveillance. I asked the gateman anyway, but he wouldn’t say anything.” He turned to Maressa, who was now keeping her composure surprisingly well. “I imagine you bribed him, or fucked him, or both. But that doesn’t matter, he’s fired now, and I checked the surveillance tapes. In the last three months, you’ve driven into my estate on twenty one occasions, Jack.” Jack had thought it was nineteen. “And you fucked my wife every time.” Jack felt the walls grow higher and thicker. “The only reason I could imagine my wife agreeing to have sex or do business with you was if you had something she wanted. Something that could earn her a hell of a lot of money. And I had an idea what it was. So I told Randy to do whatever he wanted with your wife, only to make sure to leave a used condom in your trash. I gave him a little monetary incentive to not tell Maressa.”

Jack looked at Tricia. “So you did sleep with him!”

Tricia rolled her eyes. “No, you dumbass. After he explained everything, he suggested we do it anyway to spite you. I told him to go jack off in the kitchen.” Jack was slowly losing the air out of his lungs.

Oscar picked up where she left off. He said to Jack, “If I’m not mistaken, your end of the deal is to give Maressa the same tape that got you a job at my firm in the first place. But then I thought, no, Jack wouldn’t be that stupid, would he? He wouldn’t blow his cover and lose his job unless he had a backup plan.”

That’s right! Jack felt a surge of hope. “You’re abso-fucking-lutely right I have a backup plan. I’ve been networking with your clients, Oscar. Whenever one of them wants to buy a house, they’ll call me.” Also, his survival mode had pointed something else out. “You can’t even prove I had sex with your wife. It’s circumstantial evidence, Oscar. You of all people should know that doesn’t stand up in court, even in alimony cases.” He looked defiantly at Tricia. She didn’t look daunted.

Oscar calmly said, “Even if you could sell houses from prison, nobody will want to buy them from a convicted rapist, Jack.”

Jack stared at him for ten full seconds. Then he laughed. The man had really lost it.

Oscar didn’t look crazy, though. In fact, he looked like he was very much in control. In the same, even tone, he said, “I have no intention of accusing my wife of infidelity. I know she has a copy of that tape you filmed by now, but if she wants to get to my money, she’ll use it as quiet blackmail. It’d be hard to take my money, honey, if I’m in jail for statutory rape,” he said as he looked at Maressa. It seemed she hadn’t thought of that. “It’s ok, though. I know you’ll divorce me and be able to take enough to make you happy, so long as you agree to testify that you never had sex with Jack.”

Maressa spoke for the first time, quietly. “What are you doing, Oscar?” There was a shuffle from the top of the stairs. Jack looked, and Randy was gone. He looked back at Oscar, who was cool as a cucumber. Jack could tell he’d been out-schemed. He could feel himself crumbling.

Oscar stared straight at Jack as he pounded the nail in the coffin. “That girl that you caught me screwing on tape was not the first. In fact, I’ve been doing it for years. Before Randy was conceived, even. I’m not sure from who, but I contracted HIV.” The pills! With the realization that they were anti-HIV drugs, Jack felt his skin freeze. “We conceived Randy before I found out, but by then it was too late. I’d given it to Maressa, and she’d passed it on to Randy. I had to run a private blood test to be sure, but,” No. It couldn’t be. Not this. “You, Jack, are HIV positive.”

Jack looked at Maressa. His eyes were hollow and his voice came from somewhere far away. “You bitch.” She winked at him.

Oscar continued. “Maressa will deny your affair ever happened, and Randy will say you raped him. And Jesus, Jack, what a number you did on his face.”

Jack found one last string to cling to. “You can’t prove I got it from Randy, or Maressa for that matter. No way.”

Oscar kept on smiling. “Yes we can, Jack. Over generations, the virus mutates. But the strain of HIV that Randy carries is genetically identical to the virus that I had isolated in your blood test.” That was it. Jack was finished. Smiling, Oscar added, “You know, with the best treatment, you can carry on a virtually normal life. If you can pay for it, of course. And keeping up with the meds is a bitch.”

Jack’s legs gave way and he dropped to his knees. Tricia looked at him pitilessly. She had no words for him. Instead, she spoke to all of them. “I’m sick of breathing the same air as you filthy, vile people. I’ll call a cab.” And with that she turned and left. It didn’t look like Jack was listening, but the last he ever heard of her was the clicking of her heels fading into the night.