The Rescue

Julia smiled wryly, "They have been helping themselves, that is for sure. Also, my Dad has money and political influence. If I became desperate enough to turn to him because they pushed me too hard that could cause some repercussions. What about you? You are full time for them. How did that happen?"

Brenda grimaced as she replied, "Not really that differently from you. We're from Meridian where my husband was a contractor. We moved here five years ago because of all of the government contracts at Keesler AFB, the Stennis Space Center, the Seabee Center, and up at Camp Shelby. My husband was doing really well and expanded.

Brenda sighed, "Then Congress took forever to get a budget in place a year-and-a-half ago. New contracts couldn't be issued, and funding to continue existing contracts was on hold. My husband had just purchased new equipment, and payments were coming due every month. If he lost the equipment, he was out of business. Banks wouldn't lend him any more money so he had to turn to Marcel.

Brenda shrugged saying resignedly, "By the time the smoke cleared, and the contracts were rolling again, we owed Marcel $30,000, and my ass was the only asset we had with which to make payments. I started last summer on Memorial Day and at first had to turn a dozen tricks a week just for the interest. I work seven days a week, either at the Club or on call-outs. I'll take anything I can get to get this paid off. If this summer is as good as the last year, I might get it all paid off by this coming Labor day. It just takes a spell to fuck your way out from under Marcel's thumb."

After a while, Marcel and Cezar returned with their "dates" from Atlanta and introduced them to two attractive men in their early thirties. Marcel and Cezar disembarked, and the yacht cast off.

The men were fun and relaxed and didn't take themselves too seriously. They were quite virile also so there were many demands for, the girls' services. Half way through the trip the men swapped girls for variety. It was a fun trip for everyone.

At the end of four days, the girls disembarked from the returned yacht, leaving two very content and grinning men aboard. Cezar took the women back home sporting new lineless, all-over tans and with a $1,000 tip each.

Julia figured she was now a card-carrying member of the world's oldest profession. She was going to have to get Caleb to tell her more about that ancestor of his that was the brothel madam in Memphis back in the 1800's. Julia was thinking she might be able to relate to that spunky ol' gal now.

Friday Caleb and Julia went to the bank, got the money, and met Marcel at the Club after lunch. It had been ten weeks since the original debt came due and eight weeks since Marcel and Cezar had visited to explain the new rules of repayment. At ten percent interest per week, Caleb counted out $40,093.62 to discharge the original $17,000 debt plus interest. Of course, the whole repayment was the cash plus the nine different men Julia had fucked on ten different sex jobs.

Now that the debt was finally discharged, Caleb was welcome to return to the Monday night poker games at the Club again. But Caleb had learned his lesson. He gave half of the remaining money from the farm sale to Julia to invest and manage. The other half he would use to support his gambling habit. He would only bet what he had as cash in his pants pocket. Never again would he go into debt to Marcel. He assured Julia of this repeatedly.

Julia was angry. Angry at Caleb for getting her into this mess. Angry about having to fuck the men. Angry about her loss of control over events. Angry about the titillating gossip racing around town that said she was cuckolding her husband with, not just one, but multiple "other" men - the fact that the gossip was true just made it that much worse. And really, really angry about Caleb going back to play poker again. Julia was one mad-as-a-wet-hen wife.

Caleb knew she would get over it. Women always did; she'd come around after a bit. She just didn't understand him. But he could control the gambling now. He had certainly learned his lesson in spades this time.

Caleb returned home from poker at midnight on the first Monday night after the debt was paid. That made for a long tomorrow at work, but he had done great at the poker game, clearing almost $2,300. It was a great feeling.

Wednesday through Saturday were the busy gambling days at the club with slots and multiple roulette, craps, and blackjack games going on. You could also lay bets on upcoming pro and college games. Of course, there was also a bevy of attractive escorts available for a price, and there were trailers out back where the girls could entertain clients. Monday nights, though, it was just the one by-invitation-only, high-stakes poker game, slots, bookie bets, and the bar. The crowd was small so Marcel and Cezar usually took Monday night off and were not at the club.

That was fine by Caleb. The two never mentioned screwing his wife's to him directly, but Caleb could never forget - could not forget what they had made his wife do and also could not forget the exuberance with which she had finally capitulated. He was embarrassed to be around them now. It was a relief that the pair of wife poachers were not at the club during the poker game.

Caleb parked his car in the garage. His ribs still hurt some but were about healed now. He entered the kitchen and saw Julia had left the light on over the dinette. He walked over to switch the light off and noticed the Polaroid instant camera and a stack of photographs alongside the camera. He slowly sat down gazing at the top photograph.

There was his gorgeous wife in their bed. She was astraddle Cezar, impaled on his massive prick with her back arched and head thrown back. Julia's lustrous, coppery, auburn hair cascaded behind her. Her magnificent gray-green eyes were open wide, and her mouth formed a perfect round "oh" of carnal delight.

Caleb flicked quickly through the collection of a dozen racy pictures. There were multiple pictures of his wife with Marcel and Cezar laughing, kissing, drinking wine, and having sex; all very explicitly captured in the photographs.

Once such damning pictures of his wife with other men would have called up passions of rage or jealousy. However, the hammering repetitions and experiences of the previous eight weeks had conditioned Caleb, like Pavlov's dog, to numbed, dazed acceptance of these two thugs and other men enjoying his wife.

At the bottom of the stack of pictures was a handwritten note on Julia's stationary. The note in Julia's elegant copperplate script read: "Honey, you have your Monday night vices, and so now I have mine too. Hope my husband did as well tonight as his wife did. I am exhausted and going to bed. XOXO"

He knew he dare not touch Julia physically or use the pictures against her since her two lovers would probably just pitch him overboard into the Gulf chained to concrete blocks. If he divorced her, the flow of cash and his lucrative position in the family business would slip from his grasp. He had tried and failed to quit the gambling habit. His wife was becoming Marcel and Cezar's private sex toy. He was truly trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. What could he do?

The next morning at breakfast Caleb announced to Julia that he was driving to Memphis to the addiction clinic to try another round of treatment. He had been on the 24-hour hot line with them for over an hour last night, and they were awaiting his arrival.

Julia was delighted with her husband's announcement, helped him pack after breakfast, and saw him off with a warm kiss and fond encouragements for success this time. She would be glad to manage the stores in his absence. She promised she would have no more Monday night vices as long as he didn't gamble.

Julia sat down with a cup of coffee at the dinette table where it all started when the door bell rang eight weeks ago. She took a sip of her coffee and shook her head in wonderment. It had been a crazy time.

She hadn't been sure her shock treatment last night would work, but she had to try something. She did love her husband, imperfect though he was. She couldn't just watch him spiral back down into the gambling rat hole again. She had to mount a rescue mission.

Her Monday night shock treatment certainly seemed to have given Caleb a "come-to-Jesus" wake up call. He left for the Memphis treatment center determined to lick it this time. Maybe he would. She certainly prayed and hoped he would succeed.

Marcel and Cezar had been happy to help her out. They said just let them know if Caleb had a relapse, and they would be happy to help out again.

Julia laughed out loud and whispered, "And, if in order to rescue my husband last night, I had to suffer through the attentions of that silver tongued Marcel and studly stallion Cezar, I guess that's just the icing on the cake."