Olivia and Victor Ellison

"Lucky for us," said Calvin. "It's given us time to set this other in motion. But to answer your question: you'd be helping me convince our more convincable clients that we could deliver to them that which they are probably already getting from some other supplier."

"I don't know. It's not something I feel good about," she said. "Plus, I actually love my husband. He's a little too square for the real world, but he is trustworthy and loving. I need what he has to offer, Calvin; well, apart from his nothing bedroom skills. Risking this thing with the brothers...

"I mean you've got Anita and your occasional boyfriends. For the record, who's at the top of your boy list now, Calvin? Is it that Johnson kid? Somebody new? At least in prison you'd have a cast of hundreds to choose from, probably. Me? Let's just say I don't fancy the mono-sex world of the state Bastille."

"Whatever," said Calvin, snickering. "We would not be handling the product. We would just be pointing likely well-heeled clients in the right direction and stepping back and letting Marcus and Jorge Gonzales and their ilk do the rest. Like I said, we'd never be getting our hands dirty." She nodded, but it was a definitely qualified nod.

"But, Livy, on another topic; how are you thinking of handling your erstwhile hubby? I mean he has been out there amongst 'em for a while now. Frankly, that's just a little bit scary. We do not need him poking his nose into our enterprises. And what happens if and when he does come home. Will it be open arms for him or something less?" said Calvin. "You gotta be thinking about that. I mean how to keep him calm, cool, and collected."

"Don't know just yet. But, I suppose I do have to start thinking about it. I'll be nice to him, but I figure I'll wait for him to make the first move sexually. He has to learn his place. But, at any rate, that's between him and me," she said. He nodded.

"Okay, but don't turn him off, or worse, run him off. We need him to not be in a vengeful snit down the line," he said. "He does have resources, as you and I have discussed. Should he decide to employ them it could usher in a very bad day for us."

"I understand. And, no, I do not want him in the know or getting in the way either. Those things are absolutes," she said. "I'll have to figure something out, and I will."

******

I swear she jumped two feet into the air when she saw me. I was leaning against the door jamb leading from the kitchen watching her balance her checkbook at the dinette table; well, I thought that was what she was doing.

"Victor! Jesus! You scared the snot outta me," she said.

"Sorry about that," I said, not elaborating after the fact.

"I—I—I am so glad you're home. My God, I am," she said. She had risen from her seat and come to me. She tendered me a hug and a sweet, if a more or less perfunctory, kiss on the lips. "Welcome home, my man," she said.

"Really?" I said. "You really missed me?"

"Of course!" she said.

"Hmm, and yet I haven't heard word one from you since the day," I said.

"I know. I knew you were angry. And, I also knew you wouldn't be answering any calls from me in the near term. I was giving you time to come to—well—a more understanding state of mind," she said. "I should say I was just about to the point where I was going to be tracking you down. And never doubt it, I did miss you. I missed you a lot."

I nodded toward her still open check book. "Doing a little balancing?" I said. She nodded.

"Yes, I was afraid I was going to have to tap into the savings for the rent this month. The checking account—well—since you left..." My turn to nod.

"So which is it?" I said.

"Huh?" she said.

"Which was it that you were missing the most me or my income?" I said.

"Truth?" she said. "Both."

"I'll put some cash in the account tomorrow," I said. "Wouldn't want our credit suffering, now would we." I wondered what she was doing with the money from her little side business. Figured she probably didn't want to be mixing the funds; I wouldn't were I her, I thought.

"How's that boyfriend of yours," I said. She took on a disgusted expression.

"I suppose you are referring to Calvin. He's not a boyfriend, Victor; just a friend. He's fine, and yes, I have talked to him some since you cut out on me. Lunches and one dinner. Now, can we leave the subject of Calvin the heck alone and get to solving 'our' problem? Really!" she said, a little too forcefully.

I looked at my watch. "Let's go out to dinner, Liv. Unless you've got a date with Calvin," I said. She seemed to be about to go off on me, but restrained herself. I snickered. I'd struck a nerve.

"Well, okay, I did plan to go to dinner with him tonight, but I will call and cancel. You're more important. Okay?" she said.

"What! you'd cancel a date with such a good lover?" I said.

"I told you, he's gay. We were not going to be doing anything you'd disapprove of," she said.

"No, you told me he was bi. Helluva difference," I said. "But, yes, do call and cancel. Well, I mean it is my first night back surprise or not." She nodded.

She went for her purse on the credenza and pulled out her cell. She dialed, waited, and was apparently answered. "Hi. Yeah, it's me. Gotta cancel. My hubby just got back. Yeah, me too. Thanks for understanding," she said.

"It was easy to figure out that it wasn't Calvin on the phone, more likely one of her dates. She had not used his name and the description of my return was a little too generic for it to have been someone in the know of our marital problems which I was more than certain good 'ole Calvin was."

"There, satisfied?" she said.

"A better question might be are you satisfied," I said.

She ignored me. "I have to freshen up, but we can go in maybe half an hour. Would that be all right?"

"Yes, sure," I said.

******

Anita Grayson was watching them closely...the woman had a handsome but way too young stud smiling nervously as they talked and sipped their drinks. The woman was dressed provocatively, but not sluttily. What they were about to do, or maybe had already done was clearly obvious.

She'd gotten a heads up that her husband, Calvin Grayson, was pimping for some woman, and now she knew who the woman was: Olivia Ellison. She'd met her a couple of times at dos her husband had brought her to. She, the Ellison woman was some kind of interior decorator and had done some decorating at their gyms and salons; she was talented in her field.

At first she hadn't believed it. But, an overheard conversation on the house phone, had decided her to follow up on what she'd overheard, and now she was here, and now she knew it was true. And, now she was a mixture of angry and amused. Her husband, who thought he was so smart, had proven himself dumber than even she had thought possible.

She watched as the couple left together. Clearly this was a case of going to happen not had already happened. She wondered how the woman's husband would react to the scene. Hell, she knew how he'd react unless he was some wimpy assed pussy. For the moment she'd file away the evidence, evidence gotten on her cell phone's camera; there would be a day.

******

The food was good at the Momma's Little Taste of Italy, always had been. After dinner, on a whim, I wheeled us over to the Crescendo, a seventies style discothèque on the outskirts of town. She smiled as we turned into the parking lot.

"Gonna be a fun night, I guess," said Olivia.

"That's the idea," I said. Inside, we were able to find a table near the far wall enough away from the blaring speakers to hear ourselves talk as the occasion might arise.

The DJ was on a break. He'd left on some intermission music for the patrons and a few couples were boogying around the floor.

"Are we going to be good, Victor, you and me?" she said. I stared at her and wondered, what the question she'd asked would mean, if she knew what I in fact did know about her activities. I smiled.

"Don't actually know yet. I'm still not happy about the way you've been treating me, Olivia. I guess we'll just have to wait and see." I had it in mind to offer her a last chance before the axe would fall. And, if she did seize the opportunity to redeem herself, would I care in any event. She'd been hanging horns on me for so long that it was going to be more than difficult to get by it, at least for my part.

"Victor?" she said.

"Yes?" I said.

"This place has rooms." She rolled her eyes to indicate the upstairs floors where the Hotel Crescendo's rooms were located. I smiled. I felt like a relief pitcher coming in in the late innings to save the game. Well, she had expected to spend the evening on her back hoping for some faceless dude to pleasure her—and pay her. The good news was I'd be getting her ass for free. But, even if I'd had to pay, the way she looked tonight would have made it more than worth it. I wondered how much she charged.

"Let's get one," I said.

"Let's," she echoed. As I signed for the room, one of the other counter attendants—there were three—talked to her, appeared to know her. It was a tell: she'd used the Crescendo's accommodations before. Clearly, she was not a cheap fuck, only the best for my personal whore. Then it hit me: the attendant thought I was a john. I left my gold Cross pen on the counter. I wanted an excuse to come back.

"Just as we got to the elevator, I feigned a sudden thought. "Jesus!" I said. "I left my Cross on the counter. Be right back," I said, leaving her standing there wondering what was going on.

Back at the counter, the attendant who'd helped me was holding my gold Cross pen. "Sorry," I said, "the pen belongs to miss—uh—"

"Rogers," said the clerk cueing me to the name she used when working her evening job.

"Yes, miss Rogers," I said. God, I was good. Maybe Preston should hire me part time. The thought brought as smile to my face.

"Why the big smile?" said Olivia.

"The pen has sentimental value," I said.

"Sentimental value?" she said.

"Yeah, it cost me $200. That's sentimental as hell," I said. She laughed.

The room was largish. Well, it was the Crescendo: it had a reputation to uphold.

She came to me and wrapping her arms around my neck melded her body to mine. The kiss was long and sweet and gentle and—meaningful. She was sending me a message. "I love you, Victor, everything else that's happened notwithstanding," she said. I nodded. I wondered if in the end, that I'd still be able to lower the boom on her and her pimp.

"I'd like to be able to believe that," I said, dodging the inferred question and the response she no doubt expected.

"I'll settle for that for the moment," she said. She stepped back from me and began to disrobe. I watched the love of my life, the woman who had long been the love of my life, reveal herself. My God she was beautiful, stunning really. I would never be able to get her out of my mind completely. Naked she came to me once more and repeated the lingering kiss. Regardless of what happened down the line, I very much intended this to be the best I'd ever done for her. Of course it remained to be seen how she would see things.

Stepping back once again, she began to strip me, slowly, methodically. Finally, the both of us naked, we remained rooted to the spot for some minutes. We indulged in some more kissing while letting our hands roam over the cool flesh of our bodies. She went to her knees.

She didn't immediately touch me. She just gazed at my hardening cock. She tilted her head slightly to the right as if studying my potential as a man. A potential that she more than any other living person well knew, and, had denigrated. She smiled, and reached out for it. She held it, lightly at first, in her hand.

She began to stroke it up and down finally stopping. She leaned in and slowly, ever so slowly, let it slide into her waiting mouth. She began to lick and suck me. It was maddeningly sensate. It tickled and thrilled and caused me to shudder. It was no more than a few minutes that I began to feel myself nearing a climax. I exploded into her mouth; it was shattering. I involuntarily crumbled to me knees in front of her. We kissed. Not gently, not anymore, but savagely.

I collapsed on the floor pulling her down on top of me. The feel of her flesh on mine was electric. I had to find a way to stop her whoring about! I had to. She had to be mine. But, in point of fact, could I stop her?

I was hard again in what could not have been more than several long minutes. She noticed and mounted me from the top. She rode me cowgirl staring down into my, what had to be, adoring eyes the whole time. She didn't laugh but her eyes seemed to; she owned me and she knew it. And why the hell wouldn't she know it: my face had to be an open book—oh yeah.

The smile faded from her face. I could see her almost awash in goosebumps as she climaxed. She shuddered. I was but a moment behind her. She screamed and fell forward her tits smothering my face deliciously.

"Was it good for you?" she said.

"Stupid question," I said. And it was. She giggled, kind of loudly giggled. And, it was the kind of giggle that would have announced to anyone within hearing that she knew she owned me. The upshot was that I didn't care, so long as I was the only one she owned.

The next weeks were mellow. I was certain that she'd had no dates during that period. Did she want them? Was anything changed? The answers to those two questions were that I had no idea. But then I did.

******

It was Sunday afternoon, and I'd been napping. The sun had been shining in on me for some little time before I realized it was cooking me alive. I got up and pulled the shades shut. Awake, and thirsty, I headed down stairs to get something to drink. She was on the phone.

"No we can't go out tonight. It's Sunday and I still have to baby little shit...No not for a while yet...No-no-no...No, I said, he still too skittish...Okay, so he's a wimp. He's also one hell of a breadwinner. You, on the other hand are not...Listen asshole, you come around here causing me any grief and you'll regret it, that quite apart from never getting into my panties again. Got it...I don't know, maybe in a few weeks, hard to say right now...So he's a wimp; you're an asshole...yeah-yeah-yeah, love you too." She hung up and headed for the downstairs bathroom.

Well that was revealing, I thought. Grayson? Some regular customer? I figured it was the latter. Grayson wouldn't have been calling, not while I was home. At least I didn't think he would.

Well, now I knew why she hadn't been working these past weeks. She was babying me while I got over, as she saw it, my snit. She was probably under pressure to spread for some over her better customers, or so I rationalized. The situation was actually amusing.

It was beginning to look like we wouldn't make it. I'd hoped, but no dice. She clearly didn't really give a damn about me. Needed me? Yeah, for my income, but anything else, no. Depressing.

******

Given the reality, what now, I wondered. Then it hit me, something my wife had mentioned in the heat of battle kept gnawing at me. I made a call. The result of the call? A certain Preston Scott came calling.

"Hello, Preston," I said as he took the seat opposite me in my office.

"Victor," he said.

I pushed the slip of paper over to him. "Can you find her?" I said.

"Carol Radcliff?" he said, reading the note.

"Yes, whatever you can find out. I've put a few particulars there as you see to maybe get you started. But, the truth is I haven't seen or heard from her in years," I said.

"Sure, I can find her," he said. "This her married name?"

"Okay, good," I said. "And, no that was her maiden name years go. She'd likely be married for sure.

******

The four of them had commandeered a table near the back of the foodery.

"So, mister Grayson, we have a deal then. You send me customers with money, and you get thirty percent," said Jorge Gonzales. Calvin looked over at his number one whore. Olivia nodded.

"Miss Ellison, I need to hear you say it," said Marcus Gonzales. He was after all secretly recording everything that was said. One could never trust gringos.

"Yes. I guess. Yes, we're good to go," she said, sealing her fate if she ever tried to doublecross them.

"We'd be obliged if you could send us our first prospects by the weekend. We have a lot of product to move, and we'd like to move it in fewer but larger chunks to unload it," said Jorge. Grayson nodded.

"We can do that. We have candidates already lined up. All are big ticket users who have been picking it up mostly on street corners. They are anxious to simplify their purchasing and reduce their exposure.

The two pushers looked at each other and smiled. "Your clients can be more than confident of our security measures. It's in our interest as well as theirs," said Marcus.

"That's it then," said Calvin. Olivia Ellison smiled, but nevertheless had some misgivings. Her Victor would kill her if he knew, He'd off Grayson first for sure, but she'd be right behind him. Selling herself for hot cocks had caused her little concern, but now, to make more money, big money, she was risking everything. She didn't feel right about any of it, but, they were committed now. It was clear that the Gonzales brothers were not forgiving types. Yes, they were committed, no use whining about it. She'd have to figure out a way to focus on the bright side: the big bucks that would inevitably be coming their way.

"Did you see how the one, that Marcus, looked at me?" said Olivia.

"Don't mind him. He fancies himself a ladies man. That could work for us at some point," said Grayson.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking you can blow it out your ass. I will never fuck either one of those guys, not while I'm alive," said Olivia. Grayson, just smirked. For the first time in their relationship, she began to question the wisdom of even knowing the guy let alone doing business with him. Jesus what a mess.

******

Preston had gotten it, and it wasn't good. She'd been abused by her crazy assed husband, Arnold Thornton, who'd used her and beaten her on numerous occasions. But, all such notwithstanding, she'd covered for the asshole when the police had finally come calling—not for the abuse as it happened—but for possession of drugs to distribute.

She'd been spared the worst of the possible punishments for aiding and abetting the scumbag, but she'd still been convicted and sentenced to three years for her involvement. That compared to the ten to twenty her erstwhile hubby was serving.

Now what to do. Caution to the winds: I made up my mind to see her; well, if she would see me. I made the hundred mile drive.

I watched as the guard ushered her and a dozen other inmates into the spacious hall. Steel tables with matching steel stools fixed to the floors dotted the place. A few children were in evidence accompanied by husbands and in a couple of cases likely grandmas. The object of my visit looked around trying to spot me. I'd spotted her the moment she'd come through the door: she'd been second in line.

When it became clear that she was having trouble spotting me, I raised my hand and waved. She saw me smiled, frowned, and gave me a tentative wave back. I motioned her to come to me; well, I had the table.

She covered the seventy or eighty feet in the best part of half a minute. It was clear she was nervous; her slow approach was evidence of that. I smiled encouragingly at her. She waved again when she finally came within greeting distance.

"Hi Victor," she said, breaking the ice.

"Hello beautiful. Please," I said, indicating the seat across from me.

"It's been a while," she said, ignoring my compliment which by the way she absolutely merited.

"It has that," I said, "Too damn long.