Starting from Scratch Ch. 04

Chapter 4- Ultimatum

"Who are you?" Thomas asked as he took the manilla folder and the receipt to sign.

"It doesn't matter who she is," Margaret growled, "Move out of the way Thomas, I'll shoot her and give her to the pigs. They'll make quick work out of a little tart like her!"

"No shooting," Thomas said as he reached over and took the shotgun out of Margaret's hands, "I saw her at Gina's Diner. No doubt she has been tailing us since then, and she also probably already called in an update to her partners or her client. Also, you most likely would have shot me too, and then where would we be?"

The woman nodded in confirmation, and then chuckled, "Jesus, it really is still the wild west out here."

"Again," Thomas said as he put the shotgun back behind the front door, "Who are you?"

"My name is Emma Recaras, I'm a private investigator," She answered with a devastating smile and green eyes that seemed to gather the light around them and glint with mischievousness, "As I'm sure you have already deduced, Thomas Goodspeed, I was hired by your wife to find you and serve you with divorce papers. That is who I am."

"A P.I., huh," Margaret said dismissively, "I'm not impressed. Thomas wasn't hiding. He was right here in plain sight."

Emma snorted at the insult and shook her head, her whole body language screaming, "Fuck you!"

"Look, Marg," Emma sneered, "You have no idea! Mister Thomas Goodspeed here is a mastermind at hiding, whether he knows it or not. I figured it out five minutes after your wife walked into my office with your best friend, Richard. It was as obvious as the noses on their faces. They were, or are, fucking. I assume you found out..."

Thomas nodded.

"As I suspected," Emma said with a self-satisfied nod, "After that, you went to your bank and withdrew everything. Nice! I would have done the same thing. But you took it one step further, you also called your identity insurance, life insurance, credit cards, and loan and trust officers at the bank and put in fraud alerts effectively freezing all of your assets. That was a stroke of pure evil genius! I applaud you, sir! With his cash in hand, and his other non-liquid assets frozen, Thomas Goodspeed disappeared."

Margaret and Leslie were both looking from Thomas to Emma. Both were lost, and they were both eager to find out the mystery.

"I'm not sure I follow," Margaret said as Leslie nodded beside her, "Would you come in and explain what is going on?"

Margaret led Emma to the living room and offered her the couch. Margaret took a rocking chair, Leslie sat in a Lazyboy recliner, and the four girls sat either on the couch or on the floor. Thomas came in and stood in front of the fireplace.

Margaret remembered her manners and asked, "Can I offer you some tea or coffee? Maybe some water?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you," Emma replied with a pleasant smile, "You see, I almost caught up to Thomas here in California, and again in Seattle, and then he just disappeared."

"Good," Margaret said, "I don't see what the problem is?"

"The problem, Marg," Emma chuckled as she looked straight at Thomas, "Is that your boyfriend here is worth more than half of a billion dollars, and now, his wife can't even buy a pack of spearmint gum! She can't buy groceries, she can't pay the utilities, and she can't do anything. And this has gone on for what, Thomas, almost a year now? So, for now, Heather has cleaned up her image. No more affairs, though Richard is always by her side waiting in the wings as she tries to convince Thomas's accountants, lawyers, and personal asset managers that he is dead. However, on the off chance that you aren't dead, she is pursuing divorce on grounds of abandonment and is seeking half of all your financial and physical assets."

The room was completely silent as soon as Emma stopped talking.

Emma looked around, smirking, then locked eyes with Thomas and said, "In case I haven't been clear enough for you, I am your wife's ultimatum. Come home and get everything back to the status quo, or lose everything."

All eyes were turned to Thomas. Leslie's mouth worked to form words that she couldn't seem to voice. Margaret just stared at him. A long penetrating glare that said, "Who are you? Why are you in my home? Have these last few months just been a holiday?"

"Margaret," Thomas began.

Margaret cut him off with an upraised hand. He stopped, and she hissed, "Half of a billion dollars?"

"Yes," He answered, "But..."

He started to explain but Margaret stopped him again with a gesture of her hand before standing up. She slouched to the side woozily, but when Thomas moved to help her she pushed him away and stumbled into the kitchen as she started to cry.

Thomas followed her into the kitchen just as Margaret puked into the sink. She puked a second time, and then she straightened up and washed her mouth out with water. When she was done she turned to Thomas and asked, "Was this... Was I just a holiday for you? A distraction? Or, a hideaway? Was I revenge for what your wife did to you?"

Thomas could see the hurt and pain in Margaret's eyes. He could see it in how she held herself. It killed him. He loved her so much, he just had to make her see that. He yearned to hold her. To reach out to her and reassure her, but he knew she was feeling betrayed and would respond well.

"No," He answered, "When you met me outside of Gina's Diner I was completely broke. I had spent months riding around the country trying to make sense of my life. Of who I am, and why my wife would cheat on me. I spent every penny I had without calling my accountants and having more wired to me, which would have alerted Heather to where I was."

"That doesn't seem to have worked out too well," Margaret said.

"No, I guess not," Thomas replied, "Please, Margaret, I didn't intentionally deceive you. I love you. This has not been a holiday, it has been a reality check. I've found in you, here in Montana, of all places, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. The woman I want to make babies with. A woman who will love me, and be faithful to me, just as I am faithful to you."

He reached out his hand towards hers. She was hesitant at first, but then she took his hand. She looked up into his stormy grey-green eyes and she asked, "This you, I have fallen in love with over these past two and a half months, is this the real you? Not some vacation personality?"

"I don't do vacation personalities," Thomas purred as he pulled her into his arms and embraced her, "No matter what, you will always get the real me."

"Okay then," Margaret said, "So what do we do now?"

"We fight back," Thomas answered.

Holding her hand, Thomas led Margaret back into the living room.

"Everything okay again?" Emma mocked.

"Peachy," Margaret retorted with a contemptuously toothy smile.

Margaret didn't take her rocking chair again, instead, she stood beside her man in front of the fireplace as he asked, "Emma, just how good of a private investigator are you?"

Emma smiled cattily and then asked, "Do you mind if I use your television for a minute or two?"

Margaret waved her hand gesturing toward the television in silence for obvious permission.

Emma stood up and pulled a video camera out of the back slung over her shoulder and riding on her hip. She pulled out an analog video cable as she walked over to the television. She found the right ports, plugged in her camera, and turned on the television. She turned on her camera, selected the digital file she wanted, and then pressed play.

Static became darkness. Margaret's house came into view. Emma stopped far enough away that no one would hear her car approach. The camera jerked and shook as Emma took it from its mount on her dashboard and left her car. The house always stayed in the picture as Emma walked around the parameter. Then, she moved in close to an open window. The camera was just outside the screen and then the view was of Margaret's bedroom.

Thomas laid in bed with Margaret curled up in the crook of his armpit and resting her head on his shoulder. Thomas was naked, and so was Margaret. Her breasts pressed into his ribs while his hand rested on her uppermost hip and ass-cheek.

"Girls cover your eyes," Leslie broke in on the video.

Margaret combed her fingers through the hair on Thomas's chest, running her hand down his belly, and then grabbed and played with his dick and testes. Margaret sighed loudly.

"Like hell," Cheyenne replied with eyes remaining wide open so she wouldn't miss a thing.

"What's bothering you, my love," Thomas asked.

"It's nothing honey," Margaret sighed.

"Please," Thomas begged as he pushed Margaret onto her back before rolling almost on top of her. He propped himself up on an elbow so that he was looking down at Margaret, "Please don't do that. Heather does that, and I hate it. Please, just talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. If it's something I've done, then I'll apologize. If it's something I can fix, I will. Just tell me, and let me help if I can, and if I can't, well then, at least we can carry it together."

Margaret stared up at him, and then she smiled as she caressed his cheek, "Oh Thomas, I'm sorry. I'm restless and I can't sleep. So much happened today and my life feels like it's been turned on its head and spun about. I... I've fallen for you. I am so in love... with you, Thomas Goodseed. And now I'm scared. It just dawned on me at dinner, that sixteen-year-old Cheyenne is closer to your age than I am. She's younger and more vibrant..."

Leslie hissed. Cheyenne gasped at being mentioned. The other girls whispered furiously.

Thomas shook his head then grabbed Margaret's chin with his thumb and pointer finger and tilted her head up so her eyes were staring into his.

"Heather is only four years my junior." He said.

"What does that have to do with anything," Lauren asked.

Television Thomas didn't hear the question and continued in an intense whisper, "Margaret Gardener, I love you! I don't care how much older you are than me. I much rather be with a woman that is mature enough to know exactly what she wants and stick to it. I've already done the silly little girl that is still exploring who she is and what she wants. I don't want a girl that wants to sample every plate of food on the buffet table. I want a woman. A woman that sees the buffet table and knows exactly what she wants. She goes over, picks up her plate, gathers her meal, and never strays or even wonders; hey, am I missing out because I didn't try the pork loin, or the garden salad, or the turkey and dressing? Margaret Gardener, you saw me on the street when I was at my lowest, and you knew what you wanted. You brought me home and you brought me back to life! So, Margaret, you don't have to worry about a thing, because wherever you go, you are the only woman I see. I am yours if you'll have me, for as long as I live. And besides, Cheyenne. Seriously?! I would rather not go to jail for pedophilia!"

"Two years," Cheyenne grumbled discontentedly, "Two years then I am eighteen!"

Television Margaret's eyes glittered with unshed tears. Her smile was brilliant and unwavering. She pulled Thomas on top of her, spread her legs, and she purred, "Make love to me right now!"

Thomas leaned in and Margaret moaned as he showed her in no uncertain terms just how much he loved her. Their bodies writhed and undulated. The sounds of their kissing seemed to echo throughout the house. Margaret's moans, her desirous sighs, turned into mewling wails of ecstasy...

Margaret ran to the television, ripped the camera away from the television, and threw it at Emma!

"Hey! That was a really expensive piece of equipment!" Emma protested.

"So, you're in the habit of spying on people in their homes and unlawfully videotaping their sex lives without their consent?" Margaret demanded in a bitter hiss.

"Yeah," Emma answered with an expression and a nod that said what she then vocalized, "That is pretty much exactly what I do."

Margaret hissed like a cat about to fight, but Thomas cut her off with a question as he took her hand and pulled her to him, "Are you under contract to Heather?"

"I am until I return and give her this video and the receipt that you received your divorce papers," Emma said, "By the way, don't sign it. If you do, you'll lose everything. And don't dally around here for too long either. Once I turn in the receipt that you received your paperwork, the judge will then set a trial date to make a judgment on the divorce. It could be anytime within the next six months."

"So, I am to assume that after you turn in everything, you will be disentangled from my wife," Thomas asked.

"Pretty much," Emma replied.

"Good," Thomas said with a devious smile, "Then I want to hire you and keep you on retainer. I want to know exactly what is going on after you make your final report, and I also want you to get photo and video proof of Richard and Heather's affair."

"I can do that," Emma said confidently.

"Good," Thomas said. Turning to Margaret, he asked, "Do you have anyone you can ask to come and tend to the farm when we go to Florida?"

"Ye... Yes, I guess," Margaret stuttered as the four girls hooted and cheered, "The later in the year the better, after the fall harvest would be best."

Thomas smiled, then turned to Emma and said, "Well then, it would be best that you get on your way. I have some unfinished business here, so I am remaining in Montana for as long as possible. Emma, your second priority is to find and work with my lawyer, Martin Green. Get him the evidence of Heather's infidelity. After you turn in that video exposing my infidelity we will need to minimize mine by exposing hers..."

Thomas grabbed a pad of paper and a pin. Writing Margaret's phone number on it, he tore the page off and handed it to Emma.

"This is the number I can be reached at any time," He continued, "Have Martin call me, I have instructions for him. Lastly, make sure there is no judicial gymnastics, Richard had a few friends in the justice center. Keep me informed. I want to know within the hour of any court dates. When the time comes we will be in Florida. Do you think that will be good enough?"

"It should be," Emma said with an accompanying nod.

"Then let's get moving," Thomas said.

----(!)----

Emma left and the house erupted into chaos. The four teenage girls asked questions about Florida, and what they would need to bring. Leslie was more concerned with not being a burden and settling in at Margaret's home. Then there was the question; what about Larry? The prosecutor, and the court?

Margaret, after being reassured of Thomas's undying love for her, sat in her rocker, she put her hands on her belly, and just relaxed and watched as Thomas addressed one concern after another.

No, the girls didn't need to bring anything in particular. After they arrived in Florida Thomas would buy them whatever they needed. No, Leslie was not a burden, and never would be, after all, he was a super rich dude. Also, anything Leslie needed or wanted, all she needed to do is ask. No one needed to worry about Margaret's farm. Someone would watch over it, and whoever it was would be handsomely paid for their time. As for Larry, he was in jail and would be there for quite a while. All Leslie needed to do was call the prosecutor and let him know where she was going and how to get in touch with her if he needed to.

Once everything was settled, Thomas and Margaret left Leslie to settle the kids down and make dinner with Cheyenne and Lauren while they went to the river for some personal time. She laid the same quilt they first made love on across the same rock, and then they laid down. Margaret cuddled into Thomas's side and stared up at the fluffy clouds in the blue sky.

"I like your dress today," Thomas said as he tried to decide whether the cloud to his right looked like a rabbit or a huge dick.

"It's the same dress I wore yesterday," Margaret replied.

"It's still beautiful," He retorted.

"I've gained weight," She countered, "None of my jeans seem to fit anymore. Not even my Daisy Dukes."

"I haven't noticed," He said, "You look as amazing as the first day I met you."

"That's kind, but the pants don't lie, I've gained weight," She sighed, "That's why I'm wearing dresses now. I have to go back to town and buy new pants."

"Is there something wrong, a reason why you're gaining weight, that you're not telling me," Thomas asked.

"Besides being forty-eight and bloating like a whale if I so much as smell the wrong types of food," Margaret said in a humorous purr, "Well, it could be the sex..."

"The sex?" Thomas gasped.

Margaret moved her head to nuzzle his chest as she chuckled, "Yes, the sex. Happy women in healthy relationships with men tend to eat more and retain weight more easily. Then again it could be that I've been eating like a pig lately."

"I wouldn't say that," Thomas said, "You're way prettier than the pigs."

Margaret gasped and then elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hey," He protested as he shifted and turned toward Margaret.

She looked up at him with those big, golden-brown, bedroom eyes, and Thomas was suddenly struck by the desire to see Margaret naked and laying with her platinum hair loose and hovering around her, so he pulled the elastic band and started pulling her hair loose from the braid. Her hair was long and thick falling to the bottom of her buttocks. What he saw after he spread her hair out above her on the rock was a celestial beauty. Margaret was otherworldly and enchanting. Then, he started unbuttoning her dress. Within a few seconds, she was laying naked on top of her dress. She was resplendent and curvesome, and nearly divine.

She looked up at him and the way she lay there with her hands at her sides, her palms turned out, her thighs closed with one knee a little higher than the other, her expression meek and patient, Margaret seemed so... domesticated... nonresistant... submissive. She was waiting for him to lead her.

Thomas pulled his shirt off. His boots and pants followed. Moving below her, he pressed his hands against her inner thighs and Margaret opened to him. Between her thighs, he saw the soft ivory petals of her outer labia. Smooth and perfect. The slight pinking of her labia as they turned inward covering her clitoris, her dainty inner labia, urethra, and vulva. He loved the way her pussy-lips divided her pubic mound, their teardrop shape from adductor longus to adductor longus muscle down to her vagina and perineum. The way her pussy met the bottoms of her ass-cheeks and the lovely lines of her gluteal folds.

There was a dollop of clear nectar resting on Margaret's perineum, and he could see that the rest of her sex was very wet and anticipating. Thomas moved down, kissing her inner thighs before diving in. He licked the clear dollop up and pushed his tongue deep inside Margaret's vagina then followed her vulva up to her clit. He circled her bud several times and then he kissed her labia and her soft smooth pubic mound. He kissed her lower belly, her navel all the way to her breasts.

Margaret's mouth was slightly parted, her breathing rapid, and then he was pressing his girthy organ past her pussy-lips and deep inside her. She sighed exultantly but she didn't move, she laid there completely submissive, letting him do whatever he wanted. Her mouth opened a little wider and her brows furrowed as he bottomed out inside her. She felt a little... different... inside. He kept hitting her cervix and this time it felt hard. She winced in pain and so he withdrew and didn't quite push for the depth he had before.

As he set a slow steady pace, Margaret stared at him. Their eyes never broke contact, they never wavered. Her breathing became more rapid. She sighed and moaned rapturously, and as he came in her, she wailed in orgasm with him.