The Cheaters of San Ramiro

And he remembered the sex with her- he always remembered that. But now that he thought about it, it seemed like lately they had been having less and less of it. The other night, she had gotten home late from a book club meeting, saying that the girls and her had chatted and drank wine all night. But, maybe she had had too many glasses or something, because either way she was really exhausted. When she had laid down on the bed, she had coldly brushed him off as he tried to caress her. "Look honey, not now...I'm just really tired, sweetie. I'm sorry." She had said. He had bought it, thinking nothing of it at the time. And even now, he refused to believe she was cheating on him just because some random creep on the phone said she was at some swingers club without him. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but yet there was an easy test. All he had to do was debunk this bunk, and there were easy ways to do that.

He poured himself another drink and waited for her to return home, watching the sun set with clammy hands and jittery nerves.

Several hours later, he heard the garage door open and heard Lynnette's Mercedes SUV pull into the garage next to his Bentley. He greeted her at the door with a hug, and she embraced him warmly.

"Meeting ran late, huh?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe some of these people. They were saying the most awful things about rap fans, calling them all kinds of racist names, and I put my foot down. We condemn them for their lyrics, and not for who they ARE, for crikey! And then Aurora goes, "Well, I think Genesis is just as bad, because it's mocking the Bible, and I'm like, are you SERIOUS, like GENESIS is one of my favorite bands, how dare you..."

"Well, they all sound like a bunch of uptight rags anyway. Why are you even involved with them? I mean, uh...I'm sorry but yeah, some of them go way too far. Here, I poured you a drink, would you like a glass of wine?"

"Oh no, I'm fine." She replied.

"Are you sure? Have you eaten anything, I could whip something up..."

"Seriously George, you couldn't cook your way out of a microwave. Although, you have never offered to cook for me before, that's so sweet! But thanks anyway, I actually grabbed a deli sandwich on the way home. I'm really just exhausted right now. I just want to relax." She said, sighing.

"Hon? Lynnette?"

She turned to him.

"Do you happen to know a guy named, uh, Jarred? Jarred Ostermann, he said his name was."

He studied her face carefully. To his dismay, she immediately turned pale.

"What? Uh, why do you ask? Did he call here? Why, what did he want?"

"So you DO know him then."

"Uh, yes. He, uh, he's a pastor. A youth minister I work with, who counsels kids about drugs and music choices and stuff. Why? Why do you ask?"

"Did you see him tonight?" he asked.

"Um, not tonight, no. He had, some other meeting or something. Why are you asking about him, did he call for me?"

"Yes, in a way you can say that."

"What, what do you mean? 'In a way?' What did he say?" She asked, in an unsettlingly defensive way.

"Well, he was saying all kinds of weird stuff about a s-se...Some island thing you guys went to, I don't know, it didn't make sense."

"What, a SEX CLUB?" Why would he say that!" she said, her voice rising.

"YOU said sex club! Not me. But yeah, as a matter of fact, he WAS saying you guys went to some sex club, out there at this island. What kind of weird fucked up shit is THAT all about?"

Her eyes rolled. "Look, I don't want to do this right now. I've had a long meeting, I'm tired, and I don't know what he is talking about. He must have been joking around."

"Well, but why would he SAY that? Joking, huh? That certainly isn't very funny! I mean, its fucking RUDE to just call up and say that shit to someone's husband if you don't even know him! Or even if you do!"

"I don't know!" she said, exasperated, her face flushed. "I don't know why he said that! Yes, okay, so Jarred's an assistant deacon at Saint Margaret's Church, you know, where we hold our meetings. We did a retreat to one of the Channel Islands a couple weeks ago. It was just a prayer retreat to one of the islands, there is an old monastery there. Jarred took a group of us out there. I told you this the day when we went out there, you must have forgotten, you were so busy with your wheeling and dealing and your golf crap...."

(No, actually, you DIDN'T tell me this. And my wheeling and dealing paid for that car you are driving, and golf isn't CRAP! He thought to himself, but he didn't say any of this.)

"Okay, fine, so you went to this monastery island place with him, but it seems kind of weird he would bring up something about a sex club though, right?"

"Well look, he must have been playing with you." (No, YOU are playing me, he thought angrily.) "Maybe he was just trying to make you jealous, because I mean, you DID evict that church from that property you sold to those Chinese investors, last month, and he mentioned to me he wasn't too happy hearing about that."

"That had nothing to do with him! Who told him about that deal anyway? You? Keep in mind; that deal helped pay for that purse you are carrying."

"Well, Jarred's got principles, unlike yourself."

"Principles huh? For a principled guy, he seems to be a real creep for calling me and trying to spread nasty rumors like that, right?"

"Yeah, okay I'll talk to him, because you're right, that's bullshit. I don't know what he was thinking. But seriously, though, you can have your damn purse!" And with that, she removed its contents and then flung it at him.

Geez, I fucked THAT up, he thought. That conversation did not go at all like he had hoped. In fact now his suspicions were sharpened rather than allayed. She did not speak to him the rest of the night, and when he finally joined her in bed, she simply lay next to him like a total ice princess, much like the past few nights.

-7-

The next day, George sat in his office, staring at a computer screen. His wife was off teaching summer school. Or so he thought. Meanwhile, just 20 miles across the water, his wife was actually laying in a hot tub with two men who George would have never dared let anywhere close to his wife. Let alone, sit in a hot tub with her!

"You only live once, right? Michael was saying to Lynnette, as she, Anthony and Michael were all sitting together in the hot tub. By then, she had been in countless threesomes with the two of them, and sometimes with Vonsell and Michael. But she loved all three of them- loved how they made her feel- used, abused, and violated, yet at the same time, loved and accepted, and her innermost desires more than satisfied. But what Michael now proposed was more than a threesome.

Lynnette had her hand in Michael's shorts and was fondling his stiff, throbbing penis, lavishing attention on it. She was not so subtly looking forward to shortly being able to lavish even closer attention to it. But Anthony sat, shirtless and topless next to her, looking so irresistibly delicious- surrounded by these two utterly gorgeous men, she could hardly contain herself. She dunked her head underwater and placed her head between Anthony's legs, and began tantalizingly licking at his shorts, while her hand was still firmly grabbing Michael's cock. She wanted nothing more than to have both of them take her in that hot tub, right then, even in full view of everyone else, she was beyond caring. But then, Michael leaned over and whispered in her ear. And his suggestion sounded even more intriguing.

"I don't know, I've just never done that, with three. I mean, how does that even work?"

"We'll show you. Just let us warm you up first, and if then you're not comfortable with it, you can always say no. You don't have to do it."

"I don't know too many girls that have had three guys at once!"

"Well, we can be your first. Do you trust us?"

"OF course! You guys are all so sexy... and I mean, I know how you guys are in bed, you're all pretty awesome!"

"Well, see? Don't be nervous. Just get into your role, like role play. We won't hurt you. Just let it be fun!"

"It's actually okay if it hurts a little bit I guess. It makes it better."

"Where's Vonsell at?" she asked suddenly.

"I think he's over playing basketball...hold on, I'll go grab him!" Anthony replied. He rose, the water glistening off his tan, chiseled body, and she caught a glimpse of the bulge rising from his Bermuda shorts.

Lynnette began to twitch and tremble with lust and excitement about what she knew was about to go down. SHE would go down, of course, on all three of them- but which delicious man would she taste first? And what would the other two be doing to her do while she did so? Her head was spinning with possibilities, and the familiar passion was stirring in her groin, which was already wet with lust.

-9-

As a hugely successful real estate mogul, George had endless resources at his disposal. Not only was he well connected, but he had access to certain sources of information that were not readily available to the average peon. So, the next day, while sitting in his Foothill Road office that looked out over the ocean, he decided to log into the state land ownership geo-database to find out all he could about this so called swinger's island. Most likely it did not really exist, and perhaps his wife's little pastor friend really was just yanking his chain. The map was an interactive geo-database, with all kinds of information that could be toggled on and off, including land ownership, property value, and a host of other information that George did not find particularly useful at the moment. He browsed the map and panned and zoomed over of the Channel Islands on his computer screen. Sure enough, all of them were, as he suspected, mostly owned by various agencies of the state and federal government. Although there were a few small private inholdings here and there on the larger islands like Santa Cruz and Santa Rosa, and the Navy owned most of San Nicolas. Catalina was large enough to have large tracts of private property and even a couple small communities on it, but that didn't sound at all like the secluded island he had imagined. The rest of the islands were all either wildlife refuge, naval station, or maybe a lighthouse manned either by the fish and game department, or by the state.

At least, so he thought, until he noticed the small speck of land just a few miles north of the long sweep of Anacapa Island. Sure enough, the interactive map he was browsing labeled this as San Ramiro Island, and it was, in fact, listed as privately owned- and not a part of the nearby Marine Sanctuary at all.

The land owner information was given as "Ostermann Enterprises LLC."

Wait a minute... Ostermann...wasn't that the name that the jerkwad on the phone had given him? When he followed up with further research on Ostermann Enterprises, he came up with the name Paul T. Ostermann, an entrepreneur who had made his millions building and selling solar energy farms all over the southwestern United States. He lived up in Santa Barbara where his posh business headquarters was located. So the guy was loaded, clearly. But this Jarred who had called him could easily have been related to him, either a brother or some kind of relative. But what did the Ostermann family DO with this island property out there?

He went back to his map and zoomed into a close-up aerial image of the island. The image resolution was not very good, but clearly he could see that the island, tiny though it was, had been developed extensively. There were buildings, including what appeared to be a large mansion of some kind, a couple docks, grassy playing fields, and two swimming pools.

It most definitely did not look like a secluded monastery. And this Paul Ostermann guy was clearly no more monk than George Rathmann himself, and neither was this Jarred character for that matter. He thought about their conversation the other night. Would a "Deacon" or whatever churchy thing Lynnette had said he was, be joking about having an affair with his wife? No matter how he tried to spin it in his head, it never worked out to anything other than the real possibility that something was going on.

He was alarmed. Nonetheless George resolved not to act, not to even confront Lynnette about what he had discovered until he had more definite answers. But clearly there was something going on with this San Ramiro Island and the Ostermann family, and whatever it was, George hoped like hell that his wife wasn't involved in it.

-10-

Jarred had heard the sounds of wild, rough sex coming from the bath house and heard the shrieks of orgasm ripping through a girl, who by the sounds of it, was clearly getting the best fucking her life. He was used to hearing that of course. A lot of the girls here got the life changing dream sex that their real-time partners could never give them. This girl was clearly getting nailed, hard and heavy, though. And it wasn't just with one man; he could hear at least two male voices in there with her. The only thing that troubled him was...her voice sounded just like Lynnette when he brought her to orgasm only...no way she never shrieked that loud for me, he thought to himself. Maybe it was some other girl.

Only it was Lynnette of course. He knew that voice, that laugh- and these guys- That sleazy butt-rocker Mike guy and his friend; he assumed she had both of them- had just taken her to a place he never could. Realizing that made him feel hopelessly inadequate, dejected.

Yet by some miracle that afternoon, he found a partner for himself, a young slutty brunette who he chatted up and schmoozed at the poolside. She was talking his ear off about how she loved her boyfriend, how wonderful he was, and this and that, on and on. But somehow, she emphasized, he was just too shy and submissive when it came to being intimate, which was a real turn off for her in bed, she kept saying. So she was obviously game, that's why she came here after all, and she was totally horny and ready to go. And, after the traditional foreplay, they had gone to the secluded beach (his favorite spot) and he had given it to her hard, deep and wet. He got his rocks off, as did she, and both him and his new playmate had been sexually satisfied. At least temporarily. But it still felt meaningless, empty. Not at all like with Lynnette, or with his own wife for that matter. In fact, he realized didn't even remember this girl's name.

When he caught up with Lynnette later that night, she was standing at the boat dock with Mike Lauridsen and was in the process of deeply necking him. Jarred had learned, from asking around, that the guy had a couple minor hit songs on the local FM radio and thought of himself as some bigshot rock star, but his resume certainly didn't seem that impressive to Jarred. However, he doubted that it was his resume that Lynnette was interested in.

"Lynnette..."

"Go away, Jarred. Can't you give us some privacy?"

"Dude. A little respect bro?" Michael added.

"Can we talk?"

"Jarred, I really don't have anything to say to you. I have other lovers now. I told you that. That's how it works here, you know that."

"Well, Look. I mean, I know but, I thought we at least had something, a connection. I mean, out of all the women here, I always thought you were the coolest one, and the sexiest one, and I mean, I thought that you and I were kinda, well, kind of getting close. You know. And I know that Stacey, she has her boy toys too, but this I thought was different."

"Look, you don't seem to understand. There was NEVER anything real between us. You were never anything to me besides a fuck toy, a penis with a thick head and body attached to it. And I'm sorry, but I've found some new toys."

"Well..." he stammered.

"Besides," she went on, "I'm married anyway. I have a husband. Speaking of which, where is your wife? Oh wait... never mind." She smirked cruelly at this. "I know EXACTLY where she is".

"Where is she then?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I hate to break it to you it's none of your business. But maybe you ought to follow her example and find yourself a new playmate tonight. You ought to be old enough and socially mature enough to be able to do that."

Jarred's head was spinning. He realized in a way she was right. As fun and sexually liberating as San Ramiro was, it was so easy to lose perspective of it all. He needed time to think, and wandered over to a bench near the grove and sat down. He suddenly didn't really feel like partying anymore, or for that matter, trying to flirt with any of the guests in search of another cheap hook-up. He would be too off of his game anyway.

"Aaay" a voice said suddenly. "Dat's my seat! Get outta my seat!" Jarred looked up at a huge meathead of an athlete glaring down at him.

"Oh fuck, SERIOUSLY?!? Look man, you don't EVEN start that shit with me!" He groused. Jarred knew guys sometimes did this to new male prospects to see how they responded, to test them with these silly mind games to see if they were total wimps, or whatever. Guys that gave up their seat in these instances usually did not make the cut, as far as becoming members of the club. Jarred, however, had been a member almost since day one, and he was having none of it.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he said, angrily. Tough badass athlete or no, Jarred knew this guy was not about to escalate things. Guys who started fights like that were usually banished to "The Abyss," or at least "Purgatory," almost immediately.

"Hey man, it's cool..." big athlete guy said, slowly walking away. Jarred seemed to remember that this guy actually did play pro football at one time, but he couldn't recall for which team.

But then Jarred got to thinking, could they already KNOW that he contacted Mr. Rathmann? He could only assume that Rathmann had immediately confronted his wife after he spoke with him, and that Lynnette had probably ratted him out by now. And if so, perhaps he himself was in line to be sent to the "Abyss". He knew that one of the hard and fast rules here was that what happens at the island stays on the island. Talking about it to an outsider, ESPECIALLY to the spouse of one of the members, was grounds for immediate dismissal from Club Neverland. What if this guy, or perhaps Paul or one of the other members, had somehow found out what he had done, and the shoe was about to drop? What was worse, he realized that if he WAS ever exiled, the ban would apply only to him, and not to Stacey. While both of them relished their open relationship, the realization that Stacey would still be able to get all the sex that she wanted while he no longer would, was horrible to think about. It would utterly destroy their marriage. Because the bottom line was, as much as he loved to sow his wild oats, he did still love Stacey. And he knew his own brother well enough to know that, family ties or not, he still wouldn't hesitate to banish him over something like this.

And Stacey was right, if Lynnette had in fact ratted him out to Paul for tipping off her husband, then Lynnette really WAS the evil bitch Stacey had warned him about. She might already have caused him untold trouble that it was probably too late to fix.

-11-

Several weeks later, George Rathmann had finally let his suspicions get the best of him. His wife had become increasingly more and more secretive and distant, and that alarmed him to the core. Though she had always denied any such outlandish claims as her "Friend" Jarred had spoken of, it clearly seemed like SOMETHING was up with her. Their sex life together seemed to taper off almost to nothing. She would only very rarely let him have his way with her, and when she did, it was like she would simply lie there, and it almost seemed to George that even when he did make her orgasm, she was merely faking it. He tried asking her if something was wrong, but she would always insist that everything was fine. Meanwhile the kids were back from summer break and things had begun to resume their normal routine in the household. Which meant there was increasingly less and less time for them to even be intimate in the first place. But yet, she still seemingly had an endless procession of meetings and other evening events.