Escort

Author's Note:

-- This story was inspired directly from X-Rated by BigGuy33

-- Again, I am indebted to BlackRandi1958 for editing this story and providing valuable

insight on composition, organization and flow.

-- This is no character described or referenced in this story that is less than 21 years

old.

Characters:

Russel Dawson: Financial management expert

Deanne Dawson: Russel's wife

Dionne Reynolds: Deanne's identical twin sister

Gary Reynolds: Dionne's ex-husband

Lucy, Gina and Rory Dawson: Russel & Deanne's children

Thalia Starling: Russel's lawyer

Phil McLeary, Dewey Holt, Dave Gray: Former adult film stars & gigolos

ESCORT

Most marriages go through ups and downs over the years, but end up being positive, meaningful lifetime experiences. Some might even have major interruptions, disconnects and perturbations and still survive to become successful lifetime liaisons. We know by statistics, however, that many marriages don't survive for one reason or another.

Up until a year ago, I thought I had a rock-solid, ten-year marriage. I loved my wife, Deanne, and my three children. I had no reason to believe that things would not go on as they had until the end of time. Never in my wildest dream did I suspect that my marriage would crash and burn so fast and so completely--especially for the reason that it did.

I'm Russel Dawson, Russ to my friends. I'm forty-one years old. I didn't marry until I was thirty-one so I'm a little behind the average man who marries in his mid-twenties. I'm married to Deanne Lewis, now Deanne Dawson who was twenty-five at the time and is now thirty-five. We've been married for ten blissful years and have three children: Lucy, Gina and Rory are nine, seven and five respectively.

I'm totally devoted to my family. I am an only child. My father died when I was in grade school and I was raised completely by my mother. Although Dad's life insurance was helpful at first, my mother worked hard as a dance instructor to provide those things we needed to keep our head above water. In high school, I had a job that contributed to the family income. After high school, I attended junior college because we could not afford the tuition at a state university. I finished school with a BS in finance. My grades were such that I was able to get a good position at Fidelity Investments. I managed to get an MS in financial management and planning while on the job. In the twelve years that I have been with Fidelity, I have worked my way up to a senior investment's counselor level. I now manage dozens of accounts that are individually worth millions of dollars each.

My kids mean the world to me. I wanted to have more, maybe five total but Deanne said that three was enough for her. My mother, now retired, lives nearby and loves the dickens out of her grandkids. I am well enough off now, financially, that I take care of my mom and make certain she is in need of nothing. It is the least I can do for her devotion to me when I was growing up.

I met Deanne while at a ski resort two years after I started working for Fidelity Investments. It was my first real vacation. We were with two different groups of people that seemed to mesh into one large group for both skiing and after-skiing socializing. We were both pleased that we were from the same city and made arrangements to see each other after we returned home. We dated, became exclusive and got engaged. A year after we met, we were married. Since then, life has been idyllic--up to last year.

I know when it started. It was the night Deanne received a telephone call from her identical twin sister, Dionne, in Burbank, California. She had fallen and broken her ankle. She said she called just to let us know that she was all right. Her lower left leg was in a cast, and after a few more days in bed she could get up and use a walker and then crutches. She would be in a cast for six weeks.

Deanne asked how she was coping with the two kids, both of whom were in grade school like our two oldest kids. Dionne said that Gary, her ex-husband, was being very helpful but that she expected to be pretty well maxed out, even with his help, trying to take care of them while she was a partial invalid.

It was obvious to me that Dionne wanted Deanne to come to California and help her out while she was recovering. Deanne and Dionne were very close as sisters, especially since they were identical twins. They were only separated after I married Deanne and moved to Reston, Virginia, to work in the local Fidelity office. The sisters kept in constant contact. All of our vacations seem to center on getting together with Dionne and Gary in California, or with them visiting us in Virginia. If we went anywhere else, it was always a second vacation.

"I have to go to California," Deanne announced as soon as she hung up from her call. "Dionne needs me."

I knew better than to argue with her, regardless of the fact that I would have to make some arrangements to be mother and father to my own kids while she was gone--which I knew would be several weeks. The next day,

Deanne made arrangements to fly to LA. She packed two suitcases in anticipation of a long stay. Two days after receiving the call from Dionne, I put Deanne on an early morning United Airlines, non-stop flight from Dulles to Los Angeles.

While Dianne was preparing for her flight to California, I was making arrangements for my kids to get picked up from school by a neighbor who had children in the same school and same grades. She would watch the kids until I returned home from work each weekday. I enjoyed the time I had to bond with my children. I became more active in their everyday life, as well as picking up the responsibilities normally done by Deanne. My mom was a great help, too.

Deanne had been gone for about four weeks when I received a text from Gary, Dionne's ex-husband of two years. Gary and I had been the best of friends when he was married to Dionne, and I missed seeing him when Dionne vacationed with us. I did see him from time-to-time when we visited Dionne in California. He was also very solicitous of his kids and was often at Dionne's house for dinner and other activities, or to pick them up for his weekend with them.

Gary's text simply read, "I've arranged a Zoom link for you and me at 7PM this evening. It's important. Have a bottle of your favorite bourbon nearby."

I fed the kids a little early and had the baby in his bed by 6:30pm. The girls were playing quietly in their bedrooms so that by 7PM, I was ready for Gary's Zoom meeting.

We checked in online and were immediately looking at each other over the internet. We greeted each other and did some small talk about our kids.

Finally, Gary came to the point of his call. "What do you know about our divorce?" he asked.

"Well," I said, "it was a surprise to me. I thought you and Dionne had a rock-solid marriage. You seemed to love each other and appeared to be happy with your two kids. Your divorce was startling news to me. I'm not certain how much Deanne knew of your situation. If she knew you were separating, she never mentioned it to me until the divorce was well underway."

"Do you know why we divorced?" Gary asked.

I replied, "I was told it was due to irreconcilable differences."

Gary continued, "I suppose that was a good general reason for the divorce, but it wasn't the exact reason.

"The first few years we were really happy, especially with our kids. However, Dionne became increasingly unhappy with our lifestyle. She wasn't pleased with the income of a high school physics teacher and part time water polo and swim coach. Even with her additional income as a part time bookkeeper, there was not enough money to afford the lifestyle she wanted."

"So, you split up over money?" I interjected.

"Yes and no," Gary responded

"One evening after I came home from coaching the B-team in water polo, I found Dionne waiting for me at the dining room table with a glass of wine in her hand and a glass ready for me. I sensed that this was not good and I knew it wasn't good when she said, 'Honey, we have to talk.'

"She reiterated why she wasn't happy and then told me that she had found an opportunity to make a lot more money. I didn't think she was talking about a lucky promotion or a new job, so I waited for the shoe to fall."

"I have applied to become an escort," she said flatly.

"'You what?'" I finally said.

"She went on to explain that a week before, a friend of hers, who she had worked with but had since left the company, dropped by and wanted to take her out to lunch. At the restaurant, her friend told her that she had become an escort and that it was a wonderful way to make big money. She thought my wife was more than beautiful enough to be an escort, too. Dionne said she was intrigued with the idea and, without telling me, she applied to the same escort agency as her friend. They liked her and she intended to do it.

"Over my dead body!" I said. "You're talking about becoming a whore, a prostitute."

"She went on with a rational and justification for her decision. She said the sex is just sex and it would not have anything to do with her love for me, blah, blah, blah.

"I said I would not stand for it. 'I won't be a cuckold for a wayward wife who wants to spice up her dreary home life with sex with other men.'"

"She explained that it would be all right if I could just get past my hang-ups about her evenings with clients and not let my ego interfere with what is purely a business. She went on to tell me that she would make up for all the time she was on her assignments and would not neglect me or the kids.

"The bottom line is, she told me she was going to do it regardless of my objections, and I told her I would divorce her if she did. She didn't believe I would divorce her because of the kids. After she went on her first 'date', I filed for divorce--and I got pretty-well raked across the coals in the process. Dionne got primary custody of the kids, and for that reason, remained in our house. I ended up paying half of the mortgage, alimony and child support. I also ended up in a two-bedroom apartment halfway between my house and school. Legally, I have a right to see my kids every other weekend, every other birthday or holiday and six weeks in the summer."

"Jesus Christ, Gary," I exclaimed. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

"Fortunately," Gary continued, "I'm on good terms with Dionne. I have no trouble seeing the kids. I'm often over at the house for dinner. I have to admit, I'm still a little in love with Dionne, but not so much that I would sell my soul to be with my kids and suffer the humiliation of being her cuckold.

"Besides, things have worked out for me better than you might imagine. Since Dionne often goes out on her dates on Fridays and Saturdays, she relies on me to watch our kids. I'm much less expensive than a babysitter. And, we have an understanding that if I take the kids on Friday, I get them all weekend. It's not unusual for me to have the kids three weekends out of four. The kids love my apartment complex because it has a big swimming pool and is across the street from a big park with a playground.

"Meanwhile, Dionne gets them during the week where she has to get them up in the mornings, make their breakfast and fix their school lunches. She is responsible for picking them up after school, making dinner, giving them a bath and putting them to bed. In other words, all the work associated with raising children.

"And, as it turns out," Gary continued, "I am a pretty hot commodity among the ladies these days. There's lot of single women, divorcees and widows who think a single man with a good job is a good find. I've avoided getting serious for the time-being and just have fun. I could go out a lot more than I do, except for the fact that I have my kids with me so often it interferes with my social life. So... overall, I'm doing very well for a single dad."

I answered Gary with, "I'm happy for you in that regard. We'll get together for a few beers when I get to California again."

Gary became more serious. "There's something I have to bring up to you, Russ, and it's difficult to talk about so please take a shot of your bourbon and pay attention."

"Go ahead with what you have to say, Gary. I'm ready.

Without the slightest amount of levity, Gary started on the real reason for his call.

"I went over to the house to pick up my kids two weeks ago Friday. I knocked on the door and Dionne answered. Except it wasn't Dionne. I initially thought it was her because of her short hair, but then I noticed that she wasn't wearing a cast. It was Deanne. She had cut her shoulder-length hair to match Dionne's hairstyle. I asked her about it and she simply said she liked Dionne's shorter hair and decided to copy her.

"It seemed a little strange to me at first, but I didn't think much more about it after I left the house.

"Then, last Friday, I was running a little late because I had a swim meet at school to coach. I arrived at the house at 7PM instead of my usual 4PM. Dionne let me in and told me to wait while she rounded up my kids and had them find their backpacks. While I was waiting in the foyer, I heard someone coming down the stairs. When I turned to look, it was Deanne. She was dressed to kill. She had a knee-length black cocktail dress on with a slit up to her thigh. When she walked, I could see the top of her thigh-high hose. The dress sported an off-the-shoulder top that was low enough to expose the tops of her breasts. She was wearing come-fuck-me-now four-inch black high-heeled shoes with diamonds on them.

"Deanne didn't see me until she was halfway down the stairs. Then, she stopped. She looked embarrassed and self-conscious, and said something like, 'Gary, I didn't know you were here. I thought you had picked the kids up already.'"

"No," I said, "I'm running late tonight."

"About that time my kids came running up to me and hugged my legs. They said they were all ready to go and hoped that it was not too late to go swimming. I told them we would get a pizza on the way to my place and take it out to the pool.

Dionne hobbled back in about that time. She saw Deanne immobile on the stairs, looked at me, and suddenly appeared as uncomfortable as Deanne seemed to be. Then with a peck on the cheek she hustled me out of the house, telling me to stay for dinner when I brought the kids back on Sunday afternoon."

There was a pause as I was trying to understand all that I had heard. Finally, I said, "What does it all mean, Gary?"

Gary replied, "I don't like to say this, Russ, but I think Deanne is substituting as an escort for Dionne while she is laid up. I think that Deanne is either presenting herself as Dionne, or simply offering herself to Dionne's clientele as an alternative until Dionne is well enough to start working again."

"What the hell!" was all that I was able to say as I took a second shot of bourbon.

Gary went on to apologize. "I wrestled with myself over whether or not I should tell you this or just let you and Deanne work things out between you when she returned home. I'm certain that the sisters didn't intend to let me see Deanne all dressed up for a date, so I'm surmising that they didn't want me to know and intended to hide it from you after Deanne returned home.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" was all I could say initially, as all of what I had learned started to make an impact on me.

"I prefer to know the truth rather than remain oblivious to it," I said. "Somehow, I will deal with it."

I thanked Gary for having the guts to tell me something that was obviously very difficult for him to say. He told me that if I needed anything from him, just to give him a call.

After Gary signed off of Zoom, I sat at my computer and sipped two more shots of bourbon. I had conflicting emotions building up inside me: Hurt, humiliation, loss... and anger. I reminded myself, there is no proof that Deanne is acting as an escort on Dionne's behalf and there might, just might, be an alternative reality.

I came up with several courses of action, none of them very realistic. I could hire a private detective in Los Angeles to investigate her weekend activities. It was an affordable idea, but I discarded it. I could just wait until she returned home and see what she had to say for herself.

And then I wondered, if she came home and pretended that nothing had happened and we went on with our lives as before, could I handle it? Could I be a silent cuckold? I answered my own question without hesitation--NO!

Before I could decide upon a suitable action, half a bottle of bourbon took effect on me. I wandered upstairs and tried to put on a happy face for my girls as I put them to bed. I fell into my own bed after taking off only my shoes and was asleep within a few minutes.

The next day was Sunday. We all slept late on Sundays. When I did wake up, I had a hangover and a headache. The headache reminded me that I drank too much the previous evening. Then I remembered why and I was depressed and filled with anxiety. After some coffee, I made a small breakfast for me and my kids and routed them out of bed. The older girls were good about helping me with their younger brother, and soon we were all seated around the kitchen. We decided as a group to go visit Grandma, my mom, for the day. The kids loved her a lot and Mom spoiled them rotten just like a good grandmother should.

It was only 11AM on the East Coast, and Mom was entertaining all three kids in the kitchen. They were baking cookies. Meanwhile, I was relaxing in a lounge chair in the backyard. I decided on a course of action, or at least, a first step.

I texted Deanne, "A LITTLE BIRDIE TOLD ME YOU HAVE BEEN TURNING TRICKS FOR YOUR SISTER."

It was around 8AM on the West Coast. I guessed that both of them were sleeping in so I didn't expect a reply right away. Maybe Deanne had had a late evening. I learned later that Deanne wasn't even at Dionne's house at that time. She had slept somewhere else.

At 2PM in the afternoon, I received an answer to my text. "HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING WITH GARY?" was all it said.

I texted my original message back immediately, "A LITTLE BIRDIE TOLD ME YOU HAVE BEEN TURNING TRICKS FOR YOUR SISTER."

I had to wait two hours for a reply, "IT'S COMPLICATED. I'M HELPING DIONNE.

My response was very short, "I WILL TAKE THAT AS A YES."

Deanne's final text said, "I WILL EXPLAIN IT ALL TO YOU WHEN I GET HOME. I LOVE YOU."

Deanne was obviously not going to talk about her activities in Los Angeles any more. It didn't matter, because I had confirmed my worst fear--my wife was a prostitute and I was a cuckold.

At that point, I pretty much stopped all communication with my wife. Whereas the kids and I used to call her or receive a call from her every two or three days, I now only called when the kids wanted to talk with their mother. I would not talk with her, but rather, let the kids do all the talking. At first, Deanne would ask the kids if she could speak with their father but I would always decline. When Deanne called home, I would let the kids answer the phone and leave the room until the call was over.

Deanne texted me and emailed me continuously after I confirmed that she was fucking in place of Dionne, but I never responded. As the weeks progressed, she attempted to talk, text and email less and less, finally reiterating that we would talk when she returned home.

I Zoomed with Gary a number of times before Deanne was due back. He commiserated with me and asked me what I intended to do. I told him I hadn't the slightest idea yet. I did emphasize that whatever happened, I did not want to lose my kids.

Among other things that we talked about was the amount of money Deanne was making as an escort. I learned that the difference between a prostitute and an escort was that a prostitute traded sex for money, whereas an escort sold her time as a companion, usually by the hour. Any sex that took place between an escort and her client was free. However, what she did for "free" might be negotiable.