Starting from Scratch Ch. 06

Martin's expression was a lot more somber by the time Thomas finished his story. When Thomas looked at him, Martin was rubbing his chin as he thought before he finally said, "Obviously your faculties were impaired. Drunk, yes, but you said Margaret and Leslie had sex with you all night. You clearly had the ability to distinguish one woman from the other even after she invited you back to her room. You never mentioned Cheyenne or Lauren. Sober or hungover, you recognized them immediately and knew the ramifications of what might have happened the previous night. Have you ever been so drunk you went home with the wrong woman before?"

"No, never," Thomas answered, "Though I have to say, "Cheyenne is almost a spitting image of her mother, and Lauren could be confused as a slightly younger twin of Cheyenne. Really, only their eyes and the shapes of their mouths are different."

"You sound like you know a lot about their physical features," Martin deadpanned.

"They go skinny-dipping in Montana," Thomas replied, "You see a lot at the river."

"I see," Martin sighed, "So, I'm inclined to think you were drugged. The daughters look close enough like their mother that if you were drunk and under the influence of something slightly hallucinogenic you might not be able to tell Leslie from her daughters."

"It has been two days," Thomas said, then asked, "Would it still be in my system?"

"Maybe," Martin answered, as he wrote an address on a post-it and passed it to Thomas, "Go to this clinic and get tested. If there is anything to be found, they will find it."

"Thanks," Thomas said as he took the address, "So how about my divorce proceedings?"

"I liquidated everything I could," Martin answered as he shook his head, "Heather is fighting like a cornered rat for her car and the house though, and all the furniture inside. I got everything else sold and all of your money set up into a trust under Margaret Gardener's name with you as the manager of the trust. However, you will need Margaret now to fully dissolve the trust. Besides that, I parked ten million in an offshore account that you can use."

Pulling a bank card out of his desk drawer he slid it across the desk to Thomas.

"Unfortunately, once Heather and Richard realized what was happening they filed an injunction," Martin finished.

"That's fine," Thomas mumbled as he looked at the bank card in his hand. Looking up at Martin he passed it back as he said, "I just want her and Richard out of my life for good. Use this. Offer her ten million, the house, and the car for signing divorce papers that state that that is all she will ever get from me. After your first proposal, the ten million will shrink by a million every day she doesn't sign."

Martin nodded, "I'll get right on it."

"Good," Thomas said, then he rose and turned to leave, "Now, I have to go find someplace to live..."

"I already found "someplace," Martin said, as he pulled out keys and tossed them to Thomas, "Sorry, but it's pretty large. Last I heard you were coming down with six beautiful women, so I purchased a four-bedroom condo right on the beach. The resale market is great, so, if you want, you can sell it whenever."

"Two beautiful women, and four teenage girls," Thomas corrected, then added warmly, "Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you!"

"You'd get taken for everything you're worth," Martin answered smugly.

"Most likely," Thomas agreed as he walked out of Martin's office.

Thomas went to the clinic next and got tested. He added an STD test just to make sure and then headed to his new home. Martin was right. It was a huge condo, and beautiful. Walking through to the back porch he walked out onto white sand beaches.

He sighed when he felt the sand squelch beneath his feet and between his toes. Taking a deep breath, he savored the smell of the salty sea air. Rolling up his pant legs, he walked out to where emerald water lapped at the beach. It was a calm day.

Turning he looked up and down the coastline. The beaches were mostly abandoned. It was October after all. Summer vacationers drastically dropped off after Labor Day. There were still families out there, far down the coastline, but they were little islands of humanity amongst a sea of white sand. Not like Spring Break, or the summer months, where people roamed the beaches like ants crawling over sugar. Where college kids looked to get drunk and get laid, usually in that order. Teenagers searched out guys and girls, local or vacationing, usually for much the same reason as the college kids. Then there were the families, the older couples, and the older singles. They all came for the same things, fun, relaxation, to find someone to play with, and to have good old 'no strings attached sex' with before going home.

Taking another deep breath of ocean air, Thomas smiled. At least he knew what to expect here!

Turning east he started walking as the water washed over his feet, erasing his footprints as went. He walked for two miles before he turned around and walked back home. As he was walking up from the shore to the house he saw a woman watching from his porch. At first, he was excited, thinking it was Margaret, but as he drew closer he noticed that her hair was a short and curly brown pompadour, her skin was a dark suntanned golden color, and she wore a white, nearly transparent, rash guard, surfing tank-top with no bra or bikini top which allowed him, and anyone else to see her pert B-cup breasts and rosy half-dollar sized areolas and nipples. Lower, she wore short board-shorts that fit her wide hips and thick capital-C ass much like Margaret's Daisy Dukes had fit her. Lastly, she wore cheap dollar store thongs on her feet, though Thomas did notice her ankle bracelets on her right ankle.

He remembered there was a meaning to women wearing ankle bracelets on certain ankles, he just couldn't remember.

Closing the distance, he climbed the stairs to his porch as Emma said, "Nice place you have here."

"Yeah, thank Martin next time you see him," Thomas agreed as he held out his hand to shake and tried to keep his eyes on Emma's, "So what do you have for me?"

"Copies of everything I've already given Martin," Emma answered as she handed him a folder, "It wasn't that hard catching Heather and Richard doing the naughty. They fuck on practically anything that has a flat surface, and a few vertical ones too. Catching them in the pool was a little more difficult. By the way, I also caught her fucking one of Richard's friends, the pool boy, the kid that mows the lawn, and she hooks up with the gym trainer about twice a week. Honestly, I can't imagine how she hasn't been caught sooner!"

"Wow!" Thomas mumbled as he flipped through the pictures, "With this, we can establish a habit of infidelity."

"Exactly," Emma purred smugly, then she looked around very obviously searching for something or someone before asking, "So, I thought there would be others coming down here with you?"

"Nope," Thomas answered as he set the photos down on the outdoor table, "Shit happens, and plans change, now it's just me."

"Really," Emma said, drawing out the word opportunistically.

Thomas glanced at her and she smiled innocently back at him. Emma gazed out at the beach, and he had to admit, she was very beautiful. Sighing heavily, he asked, "Okay, Emma, what is it that you want?"

She turned back to him smiling a big, perfectly white, toothy smile, and said, "I want a roomy!"

There was a pause as Thomas tried to grasp what she was saying, so she explained, "I love your place. When I'm not working I'm on the beach either running, sunning, or surfing. So, I will dock a third of my commission if you will let me move in with you!"

He was shocked and tried to cover it up by looking out at the beach, so Emma continued, "Come on sport, I wouldn't think it that big a deal. I mean, I'm open to being more than roomies since you broke up with your other woman. Or, was it women? How old was Margaret? Somewhere between forty-five and fifty? And that Leslie lady. She was so obviously in love with you too. How old was she? Somewhere from thirty-five to forty? I mean, I'm not as old as them, if that's what you're into, but I am thirty!"

She paused to gauge Thomas's reaction, so she said, "We don't have to be anything more than friends either. If that is what you want? Now that I look at you, it really seems like what you need right now more than anything is a friend."

Turning back to Emma, she could see just how haunted Thomas's stormy grey-green eyes were. They were not the same as the sharp, confident eyes she had seen just a few weeks before, and she braced herself for a negative response when he replied, "I like it. You're right. I need a friend. Move in as soon as you like. Pick any room you want except mine, and don't try to seduce me. I am swearing off women. All they do is break my heart. As long as you are my friend you can live here rent-free. Come and go as you like."

"Yay!" Emma squealed as she did a little happy dance.

----(!)----

For the rest of the week, Thomas helped Emma move out of her old place and into the condo. As it turned out, Emma didn't own much. Apparently, the owner of the house, Julia Griffin, a traffic-stopping beauty all of her own, furnished the house including the furniture in Emma's bedroom. So, packing up Emma's belongings was rather simple consisting of gathering up her clothes, which consisted mostly of very very small thong and g-string bikinis, flip-flops, camera equipment, binoculars, a few wigs, a few pairs of tight-fitting jeans, a few shirts, one bra, and a variety of thongs and g-string panties. There was a coat for winter, several clubbing cocktail dresses with matching heels, several miniskirts, and then there were her three surfboards, two skimboards, a paddle board, a kayak, and a long skateboard.

It was as Thomas was fishing under Emma's bed searching for more of her panties when he found her box of toys. There were three different sizes of vibrators, a couple of vibrating eggs with wireless controllers, ben-wa balls, nipple pinchers, and nipple rings.

"Don't! Look in there," Emma gasped when she saw what he had discovered.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he passed the box to her, "I don't see why a woman as good-looking as you would need these. Surely you can get any man you want, when you want."

"I can," Emma answered tersely, "and I do. It's just. Sometimes I'm too busy or indisposed when I need some relief."

Thomas chuckled again and turned back to look for more hidden treasures under the bed as he asked, "So, why do you wanna move out of here? Julia seems... very... hospitable."

"Have you seen your place?" Emma chortled, but then she came over and sat on the floor beside Thomas and continued, "Julia. Hospitable. Yeah, I guess you could say she's hospitable as long as you don't mind constantly feeling like you're being groomed to be her... lover? Husband? Wife? How can you tell in a lesbian relationship which is the husband and which is the wife?"

Thomas sat on his haunches as he replied, "I guess it is whichever is the dominant personality and which is submissive. Hell, I don't know. I can't even get my regular heterosexual relationships to make sense! I have a soon-to-be ex-wife that wants to bring multiple men into our relationship, and an ex-girlfriend that wanted to bring multiple women into it. Well, one extra woman I should say, but still. Maybe lesbians both think of each other as wives?"

"Mmm, maybe, as four your stuff, that is some shit," Emma hummed as she nodded, then said as she got back to packing, "Well, what I do know is, I like a real, hot-blooded, corn-fed, dick. I like dick in my mouth, in my pussy, and in my ass! I'm not opposed to admiring a nice pair of tits or licking a little pussy, but when the rubber meets the road, I want a dick fucking me and not some piece of... plastic."

Thomas nodded and made a completely understanding expression, "I feel ya. I'm not into synthetics either. I like a girl to be natural, unaugmented, I guess I should say. My only preference is for her to have a completely hairless pussy."

"Not into pubes, huh," Emma purred with a Cheshire cat smile.

"Nope," He confirmed.

Emma chuckled, but that pretty much ended the majority of their conversation. They focused on packing the rest of her stuff and then left. Once they returned to his condo they started moving Emma into her room and cleared out a second room and made it Emma's toy room, or 'Batcave'. For the rest of the week, Thomas went shopping for a new programming rig and set up the last room as his office.

Emma was in and out of the house at odd hours when she had jobs to do. But, for the most part, she hung out around the condo and even came in and questioned Thomas on his computers, and programming, and then she slyly slipped in a request to use his machines to do background searches and online surveillance. The concept interested Thomas so he agreed, and even sat back and watched as she created dummy profiles and combed through years of social media, tagging friends of subjects of her surveillance and the places they were at in their photos.

"Do you remember those old cop shows," Emma was saying one evening as Thomas watched her work her magic, "and how they used to go through people's garbage to find out where they go, what they order for delivery, when a woman is on her monthly, when people discarded their prescriptions, what medicines they took, where they got them from, and when they got their refills, etcetera etcetera etcetera."

"Sure," Thomas said as he nodded.

"Okay," Emma continued, "Now, do you remember that Edward Snowden guy and the whole NSA surveillance and data mining of all US citizen's cell phone traffic scandal?"

"Yeah," Thomas replied.

"Well, in the end before the scandal fell off the news cycles," Emma said as she clicked away at the keyboard, "The government finally said that they were only collecting garbage data, or metadata, from our phones, afterward everyone nationwide breathed a huge collective sigh of relief and moved on. The funny thing is, that "Garbage Data" tells more about a person's habits and routines than any phone call ever has. From that data, they know what websites you frequent, what strip clubs you go to, which Ten-bucks you stop at, and what coffee you prefer. They have access to any purchases you make. GPS tracks your phone everywhere you go and they know from your photos who you're with and where. The smartphone is the single greatest piece of surveillance equipment ever made, and we gladly carry it around with us everywhere we go."

"So, what's your point," Thomas asked.

"Oh, just, that is what I do," She gloated, "Just, not as efficiently as the NSA."

That gave him ideas for a new app, and he started making notes on what he would need to research to make an app that would block GPS reporting to unwanted entities, and maybe put in a tracer program to track pesky bot callers and scammers, and maybe a nuke button that can trace a line and kill the network or smartphone the call originated from. Oh, the ideas were unending!

The next day, Thomas went and laid out on the beach. The wind, when it gusted, was cool, but the sun was still very warm. About twenty minutes later he heard sand squelching as Emma walked up in the tiniest g-string string bikini he ever saw. The bottom consisted of a one-inch-by-one-inch triangle that rested on her completely denuded pubic mound with two strings that ran up and over her hips and the third string that disappeared into her camel-toe pussy-slit. The top was much the same. Strings cutting into her breasts and wrapping around behind her back and up and around her neck. The two small triangles covering her nipples hid nothing else.

"I guess that meets the base qualifications of being a bathing suit," Thomas remarked as he turned back to look at the water.

"Seriously," Emma gasped in mock outrage, "I wear this, I'm pretty much naked you know, and that is all I get!"

"You are very beautiful, Emma," Thomas replied, "Very beautiful. You have the body of a goddess, but as I told you before, I am off all women. I want a friend, not a lover. At least, not right now."

"Shit," Emma purred as she unrolled her towel and laid it out on the sand so she could lay on it, "That is some real romance there, Don Juan. I could feel my heart palpitating. I got goosebumps. I think my pussy leaked a little!"

"Funny!" Thomas retorted as he turned just enough to admire her almost completely naked body, he especially liked her hairless pussy.

"You know, if this was a private beach, I would have come out here naked," She said challengingly.

"It is a private beach," Thomas said as he looked her in the eyes, "and you can walk around as naked as you like. On the beach, or in the house. I don't care. Margaret did it all the time."

There was a long, painful pause, but then he finished, "The only thing is, if you go around naked, you better not get your panties in a twist when I admire you, or your... assets. You're a delectable piece of eye candy, and I am not going to be roasted every time I see you and... admire."

"Well thank you," Emma purred, her eyes gleaming with mirth and mischievousness as she said, "That was almost romantic of you!"

Sarcastic she might be, but it didn't stop her from pulling the ties on her bikini and setting it aside so that she could suntan completely nude. She smirked as he watched and admired her breasts, her flat belly, her broad hips, thick thighs and ass, and her girlishly smooth pussy. Without a word, she laid back and made herself comfortable. Thomas's attention was evenly divided between enjoying the beach and admiring Emma.

After thirty minutes she flipped around and over and he got an even better show of Emma's thick round ass and several peaks at her smooth pussy-lips where they met ass-cheeks. A dollop of nectar glittered where her vagina was and he watched it as it slowly trickled down the pink line of her pussy-slit and disappeared between her thighs.

'Endurance Thomas!' He growled savagely in his head, 'Endurance! Emma is great, but every woman I trust betrays me!'

He watched her pussy disappear between her thighs and he admired the bounce of her ass-cheeks as she settled herself down on her towel. He thought she was snoozing a short time later when Emma asked, "Why don't you take off your shorts? Then, we can be nudists together."

"You're the nudist, Emma," Thomas answered, "I am not that confident."

"Bummer," Emma retorted as she lifted her head to look back over her shoulder at him, "You're pretty hot. Definitely got the bod for it."

"Maybe later," Thomas mumbled as he watched Emma's pussy wink at him as she bounced her hips and belly on the towel.

Emma saw him ogling her and smirked as she thought, 'Damn those women! They have really done a fucking job on him! Fuck! It is going to take weeks to get him back to relationship material.'

Thomas was now her personal project, her guilty pleasure. He was a good guy and he had a rotten string of luck with women. If she could get him to come out of his tortoiseshell one more time and trust her with his heart, she knew she could make him forget all those other women!

If only he would just give her a chance!