Mother-In-Law Apartment

I was arrested and I got into the system -- arraignment, prints, DNA, the whole nine yards. My attorney recommended a plea bargain. Maybe I could get off with "only" 5 or 10 years and still be in my forties when I got out. Go to prison as a convicted child molester? Yeah right, come out in my forties with a worn-out asshole, no teeth and who knows what other damage, that is if I came out at all. Thanks but no thanks. I told my attorney to get me out on bail and fight it all the way. Fortunately, we had lots of equity in the house and savings. Those assets plus what a local bail bondsman put up let me get released on bail.

Fighting is not what I had had in mind. I ran. With a little hiking rucksack and some basic necessities, I took a Greyhound to Cincinnati and pretended to be homeless, which in fact, I really was. I quickly learned how to travel by freight train, get jobs that pay in cash and most importantly, stay anonymous.

Here in Chester, things were really peachy. I had a really decent place to live, enough money to eat well, buy proper clothes and more sex than 99% of all men my age could even dream about. To keep this going, I just needed to avoid any conflict with Ellen and her family and not get noticed too much by neighbors. Fortunately, over half of all Americans don't even know the names of their neighbors. At least that's what statistics show and it sure jives with what I've seen. I've always wondered if it used to be different. Like in a Norman Rockwell painting where two neighbors are leaning on the back fence discussing the weather or beer or sex or whatever. It sure wasn't a Norman Rockwell scene where I'd lived with my ex and I'd not seen it much during my time on the run.

It wasn't long before one day she reintroduced that subject of us doing it with Andy watching. I begged off saying I probably couldn't get it up with a man watching but she always came back to the scene of taking Shannon's "virginity".

"Al, I know just how hard you were on that bed. After all, it was me who held your dick and stuck it into Shannon's pussy. It sure didn't bother you that Andy was sitting right there on the bed. Or is that it, Shannon excites you more than I do?"

"Look Ellen, I was ambushed that night. I went to dinner that night with no idea about what was coming."

"All the more reason why you wouldn't have a problem. Anyway, so what if you couldn't get it up? Andy can't either. I'd just be faced with a couple of limp dicks and that would be that."

"You just don't understand what it does to a man's ego when he can't perform sexually." What I didn't say was that I was so homophobic that I worried that Andy might join in the fun and grab my dick or stick his finger in my ass or something like that. I have absolutely nothing against homosexuals and I stopped telling queer jokes long before I went to college, but give me a chance, I've known homosexuals who say that would puke if they had to do it with a woman.

In my situation as a fugitive, I have to be careful as hell not to incite people and just to avoid trouble, I've had to do things that I wouldn't have done voluntarily. Sometimes things get pretty dicey and with Ellen insisting on this performance for Andy, this sure looked like one of those dicey situations.

She let it go at that and left the subject for a few weeks. Apparently, she had been thinking about what I had against it. "Look Al, how about a role play? You'll be a sex therapist and Andy and I will come to your practice for a solution to our problem."

"And do I get to wear a white coat and have a stethoscope?"

"Goddamn Al, please get serious."

"Okay Ellen, give me your scenario."

"We come into your practice and Andy explains that we've just gotten married and neither of us has ever had sex and we don't know what to do."

I had to admit that the idea of role playing virgin sex with Ellen sounded like fun.

"Oh Al, I knew you'd be up for it." She gave me a pretty vigorous hugging and kissing and groping before telling me she and Andy would be expecting me the coming Friday night.

"Ellen, that reminds me of an old joke. Newly wed husband and wife go to the doctor because they don't know what to do. The doctor decides that a demo is the way to go so he fucks the woman right there on the examination table and the husband has to hold the doc's balls so they don't hit the wife in the ass. The husband says he thinks he knows how to do it now. Two weeks later the doc sees hubby on the street looking like total hell. Doc says, 'What happened?' Hubby says, 'Well I didn't have a table like you have so I used the ironing board, and there wasn't anybody around to hold my balls, so I tied them to the ceiling light with a wire. Everything went well until the ironing board fell over.'"

"Well Al, don't worry. I'd never risk my ironing board with our weight and I've never noticed your balls hitting me in the ass." Then she left laughing.

I still have to laugh at that stupid old joke but not long after she left, I was no longer in the mood for laughing. You never know where these role-plays lead. People who do this stuff eventually want to record the action and post it on the web, which could lead to the exposure that I constantly feared. But none of that was to come.

The next morning around 8, I got to the club as usual. What was not usual was that there were a half dozen or so cars parked outside. Normally, when I got to the club, the only one there was a security/bouncer type who opened up for me and then went into a back room to sleep or jack off or whatever, I don't know. These cars were all Caddy's and big black luxury SUV's. I knew the club owner wasn't a typical businessman; in fact I was convinced from the beginning that the club was a money-laundering front for something. However, that morning I knew something was unusual but I just kind of accepted it as another one of those happenings.

The bouncer opened up and told me to go around back and start on the toilets and storerooms. "And stay the hell out of the lounge until I tell you it's okay to!" That should have alerted me, but as a fugitive, I'm so used to taking shit that I just let it blow by.

From the back while cleaning, I could hear the voices in the lounge, sometimes quiet and monotone, but occasionally louder. The language they spoke wasn't always English and they'd lapse into what sounded to me like Italian. After a while, from the men's toilet, I heard some really loud shouting. Then I heard a very loud and very sharp: "Pop, Pop" and then there was more shouting.

My first thought was to stay low and pretend not to know what happened. Then it occurred to me that the bouncer knew very well that I was there and the "Pop, Pop" was really the "Bang, Bang" of a weapon and it was pretty likely that someone had been shot and these people would not appreciate any official attention or untrusted witnesses.

Then instinct told me to get the hell out and put lots of distance between the club and me. I went out the service entrance, crossed the back drive and descended the slope down to the creek. Fortunately, the creek valley was wooded and I had some cover before wading across and ascending the opposite bank. I was about halfway up the other bank when I heard more shouts and shots. Fortunately these guys must have had only short-range handguns because I didn't hear any bullets whistling by. Once I got into the forest on the other side, I felt a little more secure and could catch my breath and work out some plan to save my skin.

It was clear that my days in Chester were over. Could I go back to Ruth's house and get some clothes and personal effects? No, too many people at the club knew where I lived and they would surely go there to look for me. Now the very numbing thought came over me that I was going to have to start all over again. Well, anyway the question of sexually performing with Ellen in front of her husband Andy was settled -- it would not be happening! In fact it was looking like I wouldn't be sexually performing with Ellen any more at all!

Fortunately the past 15 years on the run had taught me to very carefully and thoroughly reconnoiter any town or area that I stayed in and I now put that to good use. The best way to travel without leaving traces is to hop a railcar. From my reconnaissance, I knew that there was a rail line on the south side of town and there was a switching yard where hopper cars from the salt mines north of town got hooked onto trains going east and west. The club was on the eastern outskirts of Chester so I figured I could skirt the southeast side of town. Unfortunately, it was too early in the spring for the forest to be fully greened out and I would have to use the night for cover. Worse yet, all I had on was jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Nights in northern Pennsylvania in April can be pretty cool or even cold, especially without a coat.

After putting some distance behind me going north away from the club, I turned east and then south -- fortunately still in the woods. Then I came back to Highway 20, which ran by the club so I had to hunker down and wait for darkness. After dark, I used a break in traffic to cross and then by dead reckoning, after many hours of walking, found the rail yard. Around 3 in the morning, I noticed a set of locomotives backing up to long line of gondola cars and decided that this would have to do, no matter which way it was headed. My big problem was the cold. Now I was all sweated up from the long walk/run and I still had no coat. Fortunately, there was a construction site and I saw an unused loader with its seat covered by a small canvas, which I then liberated for my personal use and comfort. I crawled into the compartment under the sloped bottom at the end of one gondola car and wrapped myself in the canvas.

An hour or so later, the train started moving and I was on my way -- alone and with no more than the clothes on my back, around 70 bucks in my pocket and the hope that wherever I'd end up, I could land another mother-in-law apartment like the one in Chester.