Dirty Work

"Mr. Brown; I love my wife. Yes, she is a flawed person, and yes, you two have sex; but in all other respects Kristy is a wonderful wife. Her only fault is the feelings she has for you; but they're not love; otherwise, she would have left me and married you when I confronted her. I offered Kristy her freedom, even handed her a check for one-million dollars. She didn't take it."

This had to be bullshit; no way Kristy would forgo the million. It would give us everything we needed to be together.

"Mr. Thomas; I don't believe you. This conversation is over; I'd appreciate it if you left my office now."

Kent Thomas got up from the chair and left without saying a word.

Kristy didn't call for a few days; but I didn't expect her to call if her husband was in town and watching. I decided to get in touch with my brother and go to a Blackhawks game. We had a great time until I brought up Kent Thomas' visit.

"You won't believe it, Jeff; the man actually sat there and practically begged me to stop seeing Kristy. Can you believe a guy could stoop so low?"

My younger brother just stared at me with a look of wonder on his face. I couldn't take it.

"What?"

"You are actually going to sit here and talk about another man's groveling when it comes to Kristy? My brother? The man who has spent over a decade waiting for her to be his girlfriend or wife, or whatever?"

"She has been my girlfriend and my lover for almost that entire time!"

"And yet, she dated the quarterback in high school, the basketball star in college and married another man. I'm just glad Rachael has a different definition of commitment. Rachael wouldn't be my wife if she had the same attitude toward exclusivity as your 'girlfriend'."

Things went downhill from there, I think I made a derogatory remark about Rachael. It ended when Jeff told me, "Fuck you!" and walked out of the bar.

I didn't hear from Kristy for the next few months. She was in Europe for a while and then down at their place in Palm Beach. I received a last-minute phone call from Kristy one Saturday. "Can you make it down here this evening? I have a free night." But; the flights to Palm Beach were booked until ten pm and it didn't work out.

It wasn't until seven months after Kent Thomas visited my office that I was able to see Kristy again. We knew her home was now off limits, so we met at the Drake while she was out 'shopping'. It cost me a bundle; but was so worth the money.

Nothing seemed to change between Kristy and me. The sex, as always, was out of this world. For two hours we made love; for two hours I tried my best to make her forget she lived in a different world. At the end of the two hours, Kristy showered, dressed and left the room. Me, watching her the entire time.

***************************

I looked up from my desk and he was standing there. Him being a tall man with a light complexion, almost pasty white. I didn't recognize him; but I did recognize the shiny object in his hand. I've never fired a gun; but I get how they work. This one was a stainless steel revolver. He raised the gun and paced the barrel against my forehead; I heard a distinctive 'click' when he pulled the hammer back and I wet my pants.

When he spoke, it was with a slight accent; Irish, I think.

"You should have taken the money you were offered."

I was scared, more scared than I'd ever been in my life.

"Is it too late?"

"Oh yea, it's too late. The money you would have received has been given to me."

With these words, I nearly loosened my bowels. As it was, I let go an awful fart. It really started to stink in my small office.

"Son-of-a-bitch. You really are a puss. I'll make this fast. This is your last warning. You write, talk to, meet, or fuck her again - I come back and blow your head off. Simple as that. Oh, if you call the cops and tell them about this visit; you won't like what my partner does to you before he blows your head off. You'll be begging for the bullet to end your pain."

The guy merely turned and walked out.

I did exactly as was requested. I never talked to Kristy again except to tell her both times she called that I was seeing another woman and wouldn't see her again. When Kristy tried to talk; I told her it was best if we just didn't even talk to each other. Kristy seemed hurt by my shutting her down. She was obviously clueless to the threats I received from her husband.

***********************

Three months later I was dining alone in a small Greek restaurant on Halstead. They walked in the restaurant together. Damn, of all the thousands of restaurants in Chicago; and especially this one, it's not the kind of place a multi-millionaire and his trophy wife frequent. What the hell are they doing here?

They sat where I would be facing them, just a couple tables away, close enough to overhear. Kristy looked over and saw me; she leaned over and told Kent she recognized a friend; would he mind if she came over and said 'hello'?

"Of course not, darling."

Kristy rose from her chair and came over.

"Sam; what a surprise. How are you?"

I watched Kent in my peripheral vision as I answered Kristy; he was watching, smiling.

"I'm fine Kristy. And you?"

"Better than ever. Still seeing that lady you told me about?" My make-believe, stay alive lady.

I lied, "Yes, I think we're getting married."

"That's good, Sam. Are you going to invite your old friend to the wedding?"

"No, not likely."

Kristy lowered her voice, so Kent couldn't hear. "Geezus, Sam. Do you have to be so god-damn cold?"

Now Kent was shaking his head and the smile grew sinister.

"Go back to your husband; leave me alone."

"Fuck you." Kristy turned and walked back to Kent. I put a twenty on the table and walked out without looking at them. When I reached the door, it hit me - it wasn't an accident meeting them in that restaurant; I was being followed and he knew where I'd be. Kent Thomas brought Kristy in there to gloat; he won and I lost.

Two days later the same tall Irish guy came into my office. All he said was, "Keep up the good work." That was it.

******************

My brother and I patched our relationship; but only after I apologized for being such an asshole toward Rachael. She didn't deserve my disrespect; she was a loving wife to Jeff. They convinced me I needed professional help.

I spent six months with a therapist trying to get over twelve years of pining over a woman who never wanted me for anything but a back-up. It took me those six months to understand it.

"What makes a woman like Kristy tick, doc? What makes her treat a man she loves this way?"

"Do you think Kristy loves you?"

"She told me she did. She's told me since high school. She was the first woman I ever made love to, we continued to make love until her husband threatened me."

"I don't know Kristy and can't say for certain; but from all you've told me she is a classic narcissist. The world revolves around her and what she wants; what she believes she deserves. She wants everything that goes with being wealthy; but she also wants great sex. Her husband gave her one, you gave her the other. One man could never fill the void that woman possesses, unless he was an ultra-wealthy, super stud; and there's very few men like that around. Not enough for all the women looking for Mr. Everything.

"Plus, even if the husband has enough wealth and is great in bed. Does he spend enough time with her or is he out making a living to support their lifestyle? And does he fulfill her 'emotional' needs? See, Sam; people with narcissism will always find an excuse to want more.

"And just to be clear; it's not just women. The needs and desires may be different; but there are narcissistic men who can't fill their bucket. Think about some of the 'Master of the Universe' types you've run into in the business world. They share the same issues, only different needs."

"What about Kent Thomas, her husband, doc? How does a man allow himself to keep a wife who's been unfaithful? How does he stand it?"

The doctor did his best to hide his amusement at my question. He thought for a second, then answered, "I'd like you to answer your own question, Samuel. How did you stand it all those years? Waiting for a woman who obviously treated you with such disrespect. You've spent the entire time loving an illusion. At least Mr. Thomas sleeps with her and spends most of his time in the same house with the woman he loves. You were given so much less of her and came back time and again, for all these years."

His words affected me deeply. At first, I was angry for what he said and the way he said it; I almost didn't go to my next session the following week. But, over the course of the next few weeks we talked through it. His words reinforced everything my parents, brother and friends tried to make me understand for all so long. Things were clearing up. I can honestly say that after six months I could resist Kristy's next summons, even without the Irishman's threat of physical harm.

I was almost there; almost free of her.

It took another two months to place an ad in 'The Reader's' match-maker newspaper column, "Men Seeking Women"; these were the best option prior to online dating. I met a few women that way; but it turned out I met my future wife through friends. When Fred and Diane Turner realized I was finally over Kristy, they introduced me to a friend of theirs.

Stacy Roberts was, and still is, a beautiful woman, inside and out. How I got so lucky that this woman was still single and willing to eventually marry me is beyond the blessings I deserve. We have two beautiful children and in the thirty years we've been married I can honestly say that Kristy hasn't haunted my dreams.

****************************

I received the invitation for our fortieth-year high school class reunion and was about to toss it in the trash when the phone rang. It was Larry Parker, one of my best friends throughout grade and high school.

"Sam Brown, too long - no see. I've been in touch with a few of the guys from the tennis team and they want you to come to the reunion. Most are pissed you didn't make it to any reunions since the tenth."

After Larry and I caught up on life, I agreed to attend. It would be good to see those guys.

Stacy bought a new dress and heels for the event. She looked classy sexy, not slutty sexy, and I loved walking into the room with such a beautiful woman on my arm. Why doesn't the high school crap ever go away?

We were having a great evening at a table full of the tennis team members and their wives when 'she' walked in the room. From a distance it appeared Kristy hadn't aged in the thirty years since I last saw her in that Greek restaurant. Her breasts were bigger, you certainly couldn't miss those two cantaloupes riding high on her slim figure.

She had more bling on than Elizabeth Taylor at the Oscars and was escorted by a guy that couldn't have been more than forty years old. Most of the men and some of the wives at our table looked toward her and back at me, I suppose waiting for reaction. Stacy caught it all. She followed their eyes.

"That must be Kristy."

Now our table companions looked to Stacy - waiting for her reaction. They were disappointed if they were waiting for Stacy to lose it. "I can certainly see the attraction. Beautiful woman. Sam, can you get me another glass of wine, please?" Stacy turned and continued the conversation she was having before the interruption; she and Larry's wife were bragging about the amazing talents of their respective grandchildren. I chuckled and got her wine.

For the next half-hour we sat at our table. Other classmates came and went, stopping by to say hello. Then I looked up to see Kristy standing next to me.

"Hello Sam."

"Hello Kristy. You look good."

"Thank you."

"I don't think you've met my wife, this is Stacy. Stacy, this is Kristy, we used to date."

Stacy played along; what a sweetheart.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Kristy. I can't believe you two dated; you barely look older than our daughter."

The comment threw Kristy for a loop; she was speechless; expecting a catty remark from my wife and getting a compliment instead.

Now that Kristy was closer, it was obvious that her breasts weren't the only work she had done. The tightness around the mouth and eyes were too much. Why would anyone do that to themselves? You know how some of those Hollywood types (men and women) suddenly look like something is a bit off? Kind of spooky looking?

"Sam, can we have this dance? That is, if your wife doesn't mind you dancing with an ex-girlfriend."

Stacy kept her cool at Kristy's baiting. "Mind? Of course not." Stacy winked at me letting me know it was OK.

"Kristy," I asked, "what about your date?"

"He's fine as long as the bar doesn't run out of liquor."

We danced.

"Where's Kent?"

"Kent died ten years ago."

"He must have left you well off. You look like you're doing very well."

"He left me everything. This widow is doing quite well. I travel everywhere and anywhere, always in style." Kristy looked over at her stud date when she said it; she saw me following her eyes.

"Well, I had to find someone to replace you when you disappeared."

"I hope you waited until his eighteenth birthday like you did with me, Kristy."

"Ouch, Sam. Are you jealous?"

"Not hardly, Kristy. It was time for me to move on and find a life and wife of my own."

"Too bad, Sam. If you would have hung in there, all this money would have been yours to share with me."

"I have something better than your money, Kristy. See that woman there. Stacy has given me a life."

"That's so much trite bullshit, Sam."

"Kristy, I didn't know it at the time; but the best day of my life was the day your husband's hired goon put a gun to my head and told me never to see you again."

Kristy looked at me with her eyes as wide as the plastic surgery would allow. "I didn't know that."

"Doesn't matter. I married Stacy, have two wonderful children and three grandkids. Here, look." I pulled back, ready to take out my billfold to produce a photo of our extended family.

Just then Stacy cut in. "Sorry, it's time to dance with my husband." Stacy pressed her body against mine and moved us away from Kristy, who was now standing alone out on the dance floor.

"Boy, are you one lucky boy!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're not hard." Now I knew why Stacy was pressing her pelvis to mine. "You were going to get cut off for a week if that little head of yours was hard after dancing with her."

I had to laugh at Stacy's warning. "Empty threat, lover. I'd like to see you go a week without my loving."

"I didn't say I'd be without. You'd be spending the week worshiping my body without getting any relief of your own."

Damn, I love this woman. She kept up the tease.

"What do you think? Would you like to buy me a pair of D cups like the pair your ex-girlfriend bought?"

"Don't you dare touch these beauties. I love them just the way they are." I snuggled my chest to hers, just to let her know I loved them.

"Even though they sag?" It was our private joke.

"How could they sag? They're not big enough to sag."

"Damn right, mister. They're all mine - and they're perfect."

"We're perfect, babe. You know how much I love you." Stacy answered me with a kiss.