Too Clever by a Mile

An apology and an introduction from the writer:

I have three stories on Literotica that I have not finished; two, Love in the Cross Hairs and Allyson, are still active, and will be completed imminently. Please be patient. This story, Too Clever by a Mile, has been finished, and will be submitted, a chapter a week, until it is all on line. So for anyone who starts to read it they can be confident there is a finished tale. I really liked telling this story. I like the people in it, and it actually is a love story regardless of what some of you might think from time to time. I hope you enjoy it. Please vote and leave comments, as those are the only means I have of knowing if I've been successful.

The cast of characters includes:

Steve Murphy,

Cathy Shoreham,

Theresa Stockton,

Barry and Carol Austin,

Allen and Glynnis Peregoy,

the Spanish Ladies,

and Leah Murphy.

*

Chapter One:

Prologue:

This is the story about a woman named Cathy Shoreham. She was twenty-seven when the story began, she was superficially gorgeous, and she was absolutely totally without any moral compass, no scruples at all. Coming off a second divorce she'd found a way to repeatedly enrich herself. Her method was as simple as finding a gullible willing rich man, luring him into a legal relationship, a marriage, and then emotionally and financially disemboweling him.

The reasons for her behavior, though for a long time she never seriously thought about them, dated from the way her father had heartlessly manipulated and ruined her mother, in the end driving her mother to suicide. Since then Cathy had become the incarnation of Oliver Twist's man eating Estella. She both hated herself and loved herself for it.

Her hatred, her loathing of men was a complex affair. She knew somewhere there might be someone good enough to deflect her predatory inclinations, but so far no man had appeared, and she was fairly confident no man ever would. Two foolish husbands aside her cynicism regarding men knew no limit. They were all affection and attention till they got what they wanted, then they became increasingly cold and indifferent. They all got what they deserved.

She'd more or less decided all she needed was one more great score; find one more stupid gullible self- righteous, self-centered, egotistical, conceited lug head, marry him and clean his clock. That's where Steve Murphy came in. Steve was the classic example of someone with too much money and too little ambition; the typical sheep ready to be sheared. His father had money, and Steve, being an only child, had gotten it all and had gotten it much too soon. At twenty-nine Steve was the perfect target; easy going, overly generous, friendly, but not exactly the smartest or the most attractive guy in town.

Cathy had already scoped him out. Through her friends, reliable acquaintances, and the lawyer she'd used to emasculate her second husband she'd gotten the dope on the young ass hole. He'd been married once, but the girl had suffered and died of a life ending malady, something to do with cancer, leukemia or something maybe. She'd only been gone a year or so. In short he was rich, stupid, and vulnerable. She'd swoop in, sweep him off his feet, catch him at his weakest, talk him into marriage, and then clean him out. She'd be in and out inside a year.

How stupid was Steve?

Of course he was grief stricken. His wife, his first great love, his childhood sweetheart had literally died in his arms after months of chemotherapy. She had been sweet, pretty, good. He missed her desperately. His carefree manner had at first been displaced by the most profound depression, followed by a series of self-destructive behaviors. Finally he'd started to come to terms with his suffering by devoting his time and energy to charitable work; especially cancer research and hospice care for children suffering from cancer. It had given him a new opportunity. Then he met Cathy.

Was Steve ready for a new relationship? Was he ready for anyone quite like Cathy? Was she ready for him? What if he discovered her ulterior motive? What if she discovered someone who defied all her preconceived notions about men? What if their discoveries coalesced at the same time? What if their responses took them in two entirely new directions? What if he became the quiet slow moving predator and she found herself slowly falling into the trap of unwitting victim. Would it matter? Would they discover something about themselves and about each other before it was too late?

First Contact:

Steve Murphy, one time play boy, married man, swinger, now alone, lonely and wifeless had, after months of self pity found a new reason to go on. A small underfunded hospice facility in his area had been struggling along without any leadership or connections. Worse the hospice was too generalized and too specialized. They had too many patients with too many different problems, plus the problems they tried to treat were too narrow in scope. The result was the facility couldn't get a real deep dished commitment from any large reliable charity. The place needed to target something; a disease or some kind of ailment that attracted more widespread sympathy and in turn the money from the big donors that would make it a success. In desperation they'd had too many patients with too many too narrowly focused problems; sickle cell was one, and though it was a heartbreaking problem, when a third of the beds were devoted to a malady that impacted only a tiny percentage of the national population it became a lost cause getting the money needed to run and be successful.

Steve had lost his wife to leukemia; a disease millions could identify with; it took young and old alike, but it was particularly heartrending when it took children. Steve had the administrative expertise to turn the place around, he just lacked the experience. With the support of local politicians and a few fairly well connected private individuals he managed to gain managerial control. From there it was a matter of garnering the money to make the place a success. Things moved fast, and within a handful of months the operation was moving forward. But Steve thought it was too small; he wanted to turn it into something, something that would eventually gain national attention, and that meant money, lots of money. He started campaigning. He started opening the place up for visits, and he devised new creative ways to raise funds. Of course the old stand by for the kinds of operations like the hospice was the big donor, or in the absence of a really big donor lots of good donors.

With leukemia that wasn't hard to achieve. Nearly every family had a tale to tell, everyone knew someone who'd lost someone at a tender age. It was just a matter of pulling on the right heartstrings, and the cash would come in. To be sure, some charities had grown to become more about collections than about caring. Steve's plans weren't like that. He wanted the money, not to set up some kind of on going collection scheme, but to get the money to really help as many sick children as he could. That made it harder, since it meant less for advertising and more for actual care. He didn't care about that. He knew if he put in the hours the money would come, and it did, there just was never quite enough. There was never quite enough because he knew he always needed just a few more beds. There were always a few more little kids.

Cathy Shoreham had just cleaned out her second husband, an asshole if there ever was one. Now she was sitting on a pile of cash, and didn't know quite what to do with it. She wanted to move on, she wanted to find another man to cheat, but in the mean time she wanted to hide her money. That was when her lawyer suggested a way to help herself was by giving some of it away. He explained it in the old way; charitable giving saved money because it meant large deductions come tax time.

Cathy had an open mind; she just didn't know which charity was the best place. That's when her lawyer mentioned the children's cancer hospice that Steve Murphy was building. He gave Cathy the run down on who Murphy was, and how he came to be involved in charitable work. It didn't take Cathy long to put two and two together, a deadbeat husband with feelings of guilt and too much money. She could invest her sexual energies and a little extra money in a charity and clean out the operator in the process. All she had to do was get on the inside. For sure she was no ravishing beauty, but she knew how to package and sell the product. It didn't take her long to find an apartment near the hospice; from there she figured it would be like plucking the fruit off a ripened tree. She wasn't far wrong.

It was his third mediocre charitable fund drive in four months, and Steve was getting nowhere. Sure there were a few donations, but everyone said times were tough, and besides, except for the hardcore giver, most people weren't looking to help others. This was the era of trickle down, and that meant maximizing self promotion and minimizing any actual giving; get ones picture in the paper as a big donor, but quietly disappear when it came time to write the check.

That's when his friend Barry pointed her out. She'd been to his last two fund raisers, and on both occasions mentioned to Barry her interest in doing something. It seemed she'd mentioned something to Barry about a girlfriend who had been diagnosed with leukemia. While she was dying in a hospital bed her girlfriends were all in the hall flirting with boys. The woman was never quite able to shed her guilt.

This was the type of donor Steve was looking for; someone with a big checkbook and a personal reason to give. She was standing over by the small orchestra he'd hired. He could tell right away she wasn't very pretty, but she worked hard to conceal it. She had a rinse in her hair, and probably was wearing contacts. She was a small woman, and she was wearing clothes that covered an underdeveloped body; probably a push up bra, uplift panties, tight hose that shaped the legs, and extra high heels.

He walked over. She had a sympathetic look about her. By sympathetic he thought someone who could use some understanding. She had a lost waifish look like someone who was unhappy about something. He had a suspicion they were kindred spirits, "Hi, they tell me you're Cathy Shoreham?"

"You must be Steve Murphy, the paragon of virtue who's putting on this little shindig."

He caught the defensiveness in her tone of voice but ignored it, "Sure am, what do you think?"

"You could use some help."

"I could use some money."

She pretended to relax a little, ""I hear you're trying to expand your hospice."

"Have you seen it?"

"Is that an invitation?"

"When are you free?"

"How about tomorrow?"

"Do you know where the Biltmore is?"

"Sure do. How about I pick you around 1:00. We can make a visit and then a late lunch."

She ponied up another fake smile, "See you then."

Steve gave her a real smile, "See you tomorrow."

A Tour and Lunch:

Steve got to the hotel promptly at 1:00. He had the concierge call upstairs. He got word she was running a little late, but would be right down. Steve sat down on one of the benches and tried to read the morning paper.

Upstairs Cathy had her battle plan laid out. Never appear too eager. Make them think you've been busy all morning that makes them less secure and more appreciative. She finished getting dressed and took the elevator downstairs.

Steve recognized her as soon as she stepped from the elevator. His prior assessment was correct. She was wearing a black business suit and white blouse. The blouse was a V-neck and even from where he was he could she had on a padded support bra. He could tell it looked like three of the buttons were undone down the front; a nice distraction, but in her case hardly effective. The blazer was a good cut. It showed her wasp like waist to full advantage. Her black slacks were smartly tailored, and she had on what looked like four inch black spiked heels, much too high for her. Hair was a light brown with blond highlights. It looked a little long, and she was wearing it in a too complicated swirling twirling kind of semi-bun. It would have been pretty on someone with a fuller figure; it just didn't work for her. His primary thought as she approached was how he'd like to redo her attire, redo her entire appearance. She could be almost pretty if she didn't try to be something she wasn't.

When she got close enough he started, "Hi, ready for a ride?"

She stopped just short. She held up her hand and an index finger. She pulled her cell phone from her over large pocket book and flipped it open. She made a serious effort at looking like she was going through several text messages. She snapped her phone shut, "Where did you say we were going?"

Steve smiled. He wanted to laugh. He thought, she's not even very good, "I thought we'd visit the hospice; then maybe grab a bite. Is that all right? I mean do you have the time?"

At first she wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, but the look on his face was too banal, "No I'm good till late."

He walked her to his car. It was parked in the fifteen minute zone. He helped her in. He'd chosen the Malibu today. He had a Ford Explorer, but thought she would have been put off by something like that. He got in, "It's only a few miles."

She sat back. Nice car, American made, another indication she was dealing with a rube, "Beautiful day."

"It is beautiful isn't it, I mean considering its still winter."

They drove on for the twenty minutes it took them in silence.

Cathy liked the scenery. It was a nice area, clean, no litter, the people around the area clearly weren't rich, but they took care of things, another sign of easy pickings.

Steve pulled up to the hospice; an ambulance was at the front entry. He pulled the car into his space, "We lost a little boy two days ago, a little girl is here to take his bed."

"You lose many here?"

Steve blanched, "This is the end of the trail for nearly all our little ones. Some get picked up by one of the larger places where they do research, but mostly this is where they say good bye."

Cathy caught the buried emotion, "It hurts doesn't it?"

He watched as they rolled the stretcher in the front door. He wondered how long she'd be with them. He glanced over at his guest, "Yes." He recovered, "Come on, let's go in. We can get acquainted with our new guest." He walked around, opened the door and helped Cathy out of the car.

As she got out she thought, he really needs the money, "How many children are here right now?"

"We have beds for twenty-six. There's a waiting list of sorts."

"Of sorts?"

"Sometimes they don't stay on the list for very long."

"Really?"

"They get called home before we can get to see them."

"Called home?"

Steve pointed skyward,

Cathy hadn't thought of that, "Oh, I see."

He smiled again, "It's OK, people on the outside seldom think about those things." He took her elbow and they walked through the door together.

They walked up to the front desk, "Hello Ms. McCrary? This is Cathy Shoreham. She's here to look the place over. She might be helping us out."

Ms. McCrary smiled, "I'm glad to meet you. She turned to Steve, "Steve, Doctor Morrison is in with Jimmy."

Steve paled, "Is it time?"

Ms. McCrary responded, "Pretty soon."

As they walked down the corridor that led to the room where the new child would be placed Cathy asked, "What was that about?"

In a gravelly voice Steve replied, "Jimmy will die soon. He's seven."

Cathy's only response was, "Oh."

They found the new girl's room. Steve picked up the chart and started to study it. He looked over at Cathy, "Technically I'm not supposed to look at these charts. I'm not on the medical staff, but since I manage the place they sort of overlook it when I get nosy." He walked over to the new girl, "So you're Ginger."

The little girl was medicated, but still alert, "Yes, who are you?"

"I'm Mr. Steve." He reached back and pulled Cathy forward, "This is Miss Cathy."

Cathy tried to resist his grasp. She hadn't come there to see a lot of sick children. She smiled at the little girl.

Ginger smiled weakly up at Cathy, "You're pretty. "I'm going to look like you when I get my make-up on."

Cathy gave the little girl a stiff artificial smile, "I'll bet you'll be beautiful."

The little girl's eyes did cartwheels. She gave Cathy one of the prettiest smiles the cynical woman had ever seen.

Ginger asked, "Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?"

They answered simultaneously; Steve said yes, Cathy said no.

Steve corrected, "Technically we're just friends, not boy and girl friends."

Ginger's smile dropped a tiny bit, "You looked like you were."

Steve laughed, "Maybe we will be. If we become boyfriend and girlfriend we'll invite you to our first party."

Ginger smiled weakly but prettily, "I'd like that." She smiled at Cathy, "I like you Miss Cathy."

The nurse came over, "Mr. Steve?"

He looked at Ginger, "We have to go now. I'll stop back later."

Ginger grinned, "Bring your girlfriend."

As Cathy and Steve walked away Cathy asked, "How old is she?"

"Ginger's eleven."

"She looks a lot younger."

"It works that way sometimes."

"Will she get better?'

Steve didn't look at her, "No."

"There's nothing anybody can do?"

He did look at her then, "We can make her more comfortable, and try to make her last weeks as pleasant as possible."

Cathy silently thought she wanted to punch her lawyer in the nose for getting her involved in a mess like this, "I see."

For the next several minutes they toured the rest of the facility. They walked by the room where Jimmy was resting. Steve looked in, but left Cathy in the hall. He was crying when he came out. He looked at her, "It's hard to take you know?"

She replied, "I've seen enough. Let's get something to eat."

He drove to an Olive Garden, "Italian OK?"

She answered, "Sure."

They spent the better part to the rest of the afternoon at the restaurant. Cathy tried to make herself appear as approachable and as available as she could without appearing cheap. Steve saw and heard what he thought was genuine interest, both in the hospice and in him. He wondered if she was worth it. Did she have the money, and on the other hand would she be responsive to a make over? After the late lunch he drove her back to the hotel He asked when they got back, "Are you in town much longer?"

Cathy replied, "Probably a week or so, why?"

"Maybe I could show you around a little. We have some nice scenery."

"You have my number, call me."

He answered as he helped her out o the car, "I will."

The Dance:

Cathy extended her stay beyond her originally planned two weeks. She and Steve engaged in a kind of sparing match. They went on three casual dates; first just to dinner, a second to a movie, and third to a dinner theater where they saw a modified and truncated version of Guys and Dolls. Neither made much headway. Steve thought she had more money than she really did, and she found out he wasn't quite the easy mark she originally believed.

On the eve their fourth date Steve figured he was probably chasing up a blind alley. He'd give it one more shot, and if nothing came of it he'd have to cut bait and move on. The local Elk's Club was holding one of its annual dances, and he decided he give her the full court press then.

Cathy had just about given up hope of getting Steve to commit, let alone just to bed. She figured if she didn't get somewhere after the stupid Elk dance she'd have to move on.

The dance was well attended. Over fifty couples were there. Steve knew nearly everybody, and Cathy saw he was quite popular. She wasn't so sure, maybe she'd hang around a little longer. A couple people thought they recognized Cathy, but said nothing. As the dance was winding down Steve asked if it was OK, might they stop at the hospice briefly. They'd picked up another new child, and he wanted to see him. Cathy wasn't excited about it. She managed to duck the hospice on two other occasions, but this time she figured it couldn't hurt; it might even help her cause.