Forgiveness of the Highest Order Ch. 01

The press conference alone had been enough human wreckage for one day. Still, the solemn late afternoon drive from City Hall to the bucolic New England neighborhood Tucker Simmons called home was in a lot of ways worse then the media lynching he'd just endured.

46 years old, and in the middle of what was to be his third term as Mayor of the town he'd lived in his whole life, Tucker gripped his hand hard around the steering wheel of his black BMW and stared aimlessly forward, desperate not to make eye contact with any of the people he encountered as he drove on. He remembered the first day after being elected Mayor how he'd driven down those same streets, making eye contact and waving at every car or person walking down the sidewalk. Now that same neighborhood felt like the mouth of a shark and each one of the houses was just another tooth waiting to chomp down on him.

Not that he didn't run a smooth and efficient ship during his 3 terms as Mayor. Everything Tucker had done in his professional life, and the relationships he built during his time in office were solid gold. It was the carelessness in his personal life however that landed him in the quandary of a lifetime.

In his paranoid mind's eye he sensed that every house he drove by, the occupants were all huddled around the picture window, staring out at him and poking each other in the ribs saying 'there goes the man who had it all and blew it'.

Sadly, in a few of the cases he was probably right.

In a lot of ways, Tucker had Elliot Spitzer to thank for making him such a pariah, not only in his hometown, but in his own home as well. Tucker continually kept going back to the morning in March when he'd sat down at his desk, cracked open the morning paper and saw the first headline about the soon to be disgraced New York Governor. Tucker just sat there hunched forward in his seat, glaring down at the tiny black print with the grim look of a man knowing his career was about to swirl down the toilet as well.

For the past four years Tucker Simmons had been doing pretty much the same thing as Spitzer. It had all started with a round of golf at a charity event in Boston back in 2004 during the ill-fated John Kerry Presidential campaign. One of the businessmen in his foursome had a rather attractive younger woman at his side during the round and not knowing whether the lady was perhaps the man's daughter or even his mistress, Tucker avoided making a fool of himself by asking. Seeing a wedding ring on the man's finger but the absence of one on the woman's, he figured the two weren't married. The more he surveyed the couple, Tucker didn't see enough of a resemblance between the two for them to be related either.

Sometime around the 14th tee, the man must have sensed Tucker's quizzical stares and after a few awkward tidbits of banter back and forth, the man handed the stunned Mayor an embossed business card to the upscale escort agency he'd been using.

"Privacy and discretion assured," he promised Tucker.

Well maybe for any random widget salesman, but not for the mayor of a gossip-riddled New England town if the shit was to ever hit the fan.

It took Tucker a couple of months to work up the courage (or desperation) to finally call the number. Another two times to actually go through with an arranged meeting after chickening out twice. After finally going through the first experience he had with the girl they'd set him up with however, Tucker found himself using the service each time he was down that way on business.

"Goddamn Spitzer," Tucker once again mumbled out loud as he drove on, feeling just like one of the dominos that got set in motion when the media frenzy started to swell round the NY Governor had now fallen squarely on him. District Attorneys were as close to scavengers as any breed of animal God have ever placed on the Earth, and with one in his town who had open political aspirations, Tucker should have known to keep his shoes clean. His libido unfortunately had won out, and once there was so much as a trace of evidence about the his potentially illicit relationship with a call-girl ring, it didn't take long for the DA to pounce.

Tucker's life started to unravel innocently enough a few months earlier on the Turnpike when a man was pulled over by a Massachusetts state trooper for suspicion of drunk driving. The officer immediately sensed something was amiss seeing the age difference between the much older man and the girl in her 20's. After running the field sobriety checks, it was clear the man was past the legal limit and after running the girl's name and social security number it came back that she was wanted on several bad check warrants. The fact she also had handful of loose joints and a few pills of Ecstasy in her purse didn't help matters.

The 20 year old girl, who was trying her best to work her way through college with two parents who both were mired waist deep financially in the mortgage mess, spilled her guts on the spot and admitted she was an escort. It wasn't long before an enterprising and curious detective got a hold of the girl's phone records and ran the numbers inside.

Early the next week, a pair of very thorough investigators were waiting for Tucker in his office when he walked in to work, followed not long after by a horde of tv and print reporters. The Mayor's jig was up.

"And all the shit might have been worth it if the Bitch looked anything like the piece of ass Spitzer went down for," the mayor chided himself as he drove home, trying to cull a little dose of gallows humor out of an otherwise piss-poor situation.

The only salvation for Tucker over those early months of '08, while the walls of his personal life were beginning to close in, was that his two Daughters were both away at college. While not immune at their age to the sins of their Father, thankfully they didn't have to be at ground zero in the family's home every night to see it all up close. For selfish reasons, Tucker was glad they were both gone as well so he didn't have to look, with pitiful shame, into each of their eyes on a daily basis having them know what he did.

As for Tucker's wife Ellen, having her squirm uncomfortably in the public spotlight wasn't the worst feeling in the world. In a lot of ways, she was the one that precipitated him originally dialing the number to the escort agency in the first place.

Steering his Beamer into the driveway and switching off the ignition, Tucker just sat behind the wheel for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts and trying to muster the courage to walk inside and face his family after the public flogging he'd just endured at the press conference. Sitting there behind his tinted windows as the last shades of dusk gave way to night, Tucker couldn't help but marvel at how similar the sunset was to the night nearly five years ago when he'd driven home at a similar hour, only to have his wife inform him as he was reaching in the fridge for a beer to wind down with, that after 20 years of marriage, she'd decided to become a lesbian.

It wasn't like the two were having much sex at time as it was, but it was still a blow to Tucker Simmons' manhood hearing her put it into words. Ellen had confided in him during those tender moments in the dark early in their marriage that she was attracted to other women, and during those initial years of marital bliss, the two had even contemplated bringing an occasional second woman into the mix if the opportunity ever presented itself. Once the kids started to grow up and Tucker's political aspirations took flight however, the lust between Husband and Wife steadily began to wane.

Actually going through with telling her Husband of her 'conversion' wasn't borne so much out of her hormones however, as it was out of her reliance on a smooth and constant bottle of rum at her side. Tucker knew Ellen had been fooling around with the wife of one of his business associates for awhile back then and apparently the two women had, in a drunken and cocaine fueled stupor, decided to 'come out of the closet' together. It didn't take long for both women to come to the conclusion however that life was more easily led keeping the persona, wealth and status of being the loyal wife of a successful man rather than announcing to the world their undying love for each other.

Within a year or so Ellen and the other woman had broken up, but it didn't amount to any more contentment for him. She wasn't attracted to him anymore and frankly the sight of his Wife, even though she was still a relatively fit and attractive woman, made Tucker a little ill as well. Their relationship for the previous few years had devolved into nothing more than a simple facade for public consumption and a vehicle to keep their Daughters' lives as consistent as possible until they were both done with school.

As for Tucker's needs, he knew there were plenty of women he encountered either through his job, or his vast social circles, that he could strike up an affair with. Having genuine concern for his career, not to mention despising the thought of doing anything that might harm his family, he turned all that accumulating lust inward for a very long time. It wasn't until that man at the golf tournament handed Tucker that business card that he even contemplated straying. Once an option to address his natural urges was laid out for him however, one that he thought was chalk full of discretion and fail-safes, Tucker's Puritan Will eventually eroded.

Not that there wasn't a certain amount of hubris involved in that decision. He was still good looking, had most of his hair and was the top elected official in his hometown. If his Wife didn't want him, there were plenty of women out there that would. Instead of cheating with someone who either might make the mistake of falling in love, or considering his position in the community, might hold the affair over him, Tucker realized paying for the companionship that was lacking in his life was perhaps the best option.

One long exhaled sigh shot like a gust of wind from Tucker's mouth and nose as he reached for the door and stepped out of his car. Noticing his wife's Jag parked at the top of the driveway, Tucker couldn't help but harkens back to the tail end of the press conference when Ellen, who had been standing beside him throughout it all with a calm, cold and straight forward stare, suddenly disappeared. Not that he could blame her, there were plenty of times he'd dug his own tunnel out of that conference room if he had a shovel. Still, it did make it that much more awkward trying to answer the barrage of personal questions after his Wife had ditched his side.

Tucker also saw his Daughters' cars parked in the driveway as well. While both Mikala and Angie had been home from college since each of their semesters let out in early May, Tucker wouldn't allow either the public ridicule of attending his press conference/flogging. The brick walkway leading to the front door felt like quicksand under Tucker's shoes as he thought about the shame and disappointment his kids would have to live with until everything, God willing, eventually blew over. He'd activity encouraged both girls to maybe get a Summer job, or perhaps take a few Summer courses back at their colleges so they wouldn't have to be home dealing with their Father's malfeasance, but both Mikala and Angie were insistent on coming home and lending whatever moral support they could.

The front door was unlocked and after another painfully long sigh, Tucker walked inside. He was instantly struck by how quiet the entire six bedroom, 3000 square foot house seemed. Thinking for a moment to call out to someone, the urge got lodged in Tucker's throat for fear of hearing his own voice echoing emptily back to him.

"Is this what I have to look forward to," his throat tightened as he contemplated his future.

Putting one cautious foot in front of the other, Tucker started to walk down the hardwood floor of the foyer, the report of his trotting footsteps providing the only soundtrack inside his head. The TV in the family room wasn't on, and it might have been the first time he'd ever walked into the house when either of his Daughters were home that there wasn't some sort of music blaring from either of their rooms.

His ears starved for any shred of stimulation, the only thing that they could faintly detect was the hum of the refrigerator running in the kitchen. Going back through his mental memory bank, Tucker thought back to when he was getting out of his car and to his best recollection, the only light he saw on inside the house was in the family room down at the far end of the east side hallway.

Ducking his head into the kitchen just to make sure no one was in there, the only signs of life Tucker saw was his Wife's purse sitting on the bar and a pair of one of his Daughter's tennis shoes laying by the sliding glass door. Feeling almost like a prowler in his own darkened home, Tucker turned towards the hallway and began making his way to the lone ray of light shining from the family room's open doorway.

_____________________

On first glance nothing in the room seemed out of place. The plasma tv was still hanging like a movie screen on the side wall, all his accumulated newspapers and magazines were still cluttered on the coffee table and the family cat, Beckett, was curled up on his favorite recliner.

Studying the look on the pet's fluffy gray face, Tucker followed the line of Beckett's gaze to the center of the room. Taking two more steps forward until he could see over top of the sofa and down to the floor in front of it, Tucker stopped cold in his tracks. A low, rolling gasp gurgled from the 46 year old man's throat as he took in the sight before him.

Sensing the seismic shift of energy in the room, Beckett bounded quickly out of the chair and darted past Tucker on his way back up the hallway, leaving Tucker alone with the image of two naked asses raised in the air on the floor in front of him.

Tucker's vision instantly began to blur, and it felt as if his head was filling with helium as he stared down at the two behinds less than eight feet in front of him. His car keys still tucked in his right hand as he stood behind the sofa looking down, the jolt of numbness that swept through his system caused the keychain to slip from his fingers and land with a soft plop on the carpet below.

The first thought to seep into Tucker's suddenly discombobulated mind was his Wife must be throwing a lesbian soiree in the house just to kick him when he was down, as if to rub her Husband's face in all his misdeeds, knowing he'd be at his lowest returning home from the shellacking he took at the press conference.

Quickly beginning to brim with anger thinking his Wife would do such a thing, especially with both their Daughters home from college, he had to remind himself the depths of disdain Ellen felt for him, and decency in general, when she had a few drinks in her. Tucker realized he wouldn't put something, even that perverse, past her.

So when Ellen Simmons walked calmly into the room behind her Husband and took a stand directly at his side, Tucker's first inclination was to reach to his right and grab his wife by the throat until he'd choked her down to the floor.

Before he could however, the cool, hushed tone of his Wife's voice paralyzed Tucker.

"They're beautiful, aren't they," Ellen simply said to her Husband, allowing the words to hang in the air long enough for Tucker to see what was really in front of him in striking clarity and detail.

"For all the shit we've caused each other over the years, we did make two stunning children, didn't we," Ellen continued once she sensed the reality of what he was seeing was starting to sink in for Tucker.

Unfolding her arms, Ellen slipped her left hand around the far side of her Husband's waist and hugged him with a tenderness seemingly lost years ago between them as they stared down together at their naked Daughters, side by side on the floor.

Everything in Tucker's field of vision seemed to float like jumbled flotsam until the pieces started to come together like the spat out film of a slowly developing Polaroid picture. His wife's cryptic words still echoing in his ears, Tucker reached down with his left hand and clutched it around Ellen's, trying his best to steady his suddenly knocking knees.

The first bit of recognition that sent a bone chilling jolt down Tucker's spine was the sunburst shaped tattoo on the lower back of the girl on the right. His oldest Daughter, 21 year old Mikala, had gotten the tattoo the previous Summer and much to her Father's original consternation, it was clearly visible each time she wore a halter top or two piece bathing suit.

His head bobbing like a fluttering beachball on top of his shoulders, Tucker's lips began to quiver as his Wife's grip on his waist tightened ever so gently. Shifting his gaze a little to the left, Tucker eventually recognized the birthmark on the second girl's left asscheek. It was the same birthmark his Daughter Angie had popped into the world with 19 years earlier.

The two girls continued to kneel there, as still as statues in front of the coffee table, with their heads tucked between their hands as they raised their asses in the air.

"Mika.....Ang....," Tucker's voice trickled off his tongue before his Wife patted him reassuringly on the side as if to say, "Yes Tucker...yes it's them."

"But... why?" he stammered.

"Because they wanted to," Ellen calmly replied.

"...They...," Tucker's voice trailed off, leaving a silence as choking as the deepest stretch of the Amazon Jungle hanging in the air.

"I've made a decision Tucker," Ellen said, continuing to face forward. "I know I'll played more than a small role in the way everything has unraveled for us the last few years. I don't think it hit me quite how much until I was standing in front of those cameras with you today and felt that same glare you've been under....that's why I had to run out of there when I did."

"I've finally decided to go through with something that I've been too scared too face for a long time," she continued. "I'm going to take some time away at that rehab clinic up in Maine you were trying to force on me last year..I just told the girls when I got back home."

An initial wave of what should have been vindication swept through Tucker hearing that his Wife finally admitted she had a problem, but given the current circumstances, he was way too stunned to gloat.

"And what about...this...," Tucker's extended his trembling hand and pointed towards his two naked girls on the floor.

"Wel..That's complicated," was Ellen's dry response. "You've been through a lot Tucker..this is just something they've wanted to do."

Slipping her right hand across her body, Ellen placed it against her Husband's lower belly and rubbed it in a couple of soothing circles before allowing her palm to drift lower before it finally came to rest on top of the crotch of his pants.

"They want you to fuck them," Ellen whispered softly into her Husband's ear before beginning to knead her fingers deeper into the fabric of Tucker's slacks until the cylinder of his shameful erection was visibly protruding.

The blood rushing quickly away from his head, Tucker was thankful Ellen still had ahold of him by both hands or he feared he was collapse face first into the cushions of the plush leather sofa below.

"It's what they want Tucker...and it's what you want," Ellen whispered once more before unsheathing her left hand from her Husband's waist and starting a slow, purposeful walk over to the recliner on the far side of the room.

That left Tucker standing alone, his bleary eyed gaze seemingly being sucked into the vortex of the two girls' parted thighs as he muttered the words, "It's complicated," over and over.