Wrong Room

"Yes I am; what's your name?"

"I'm Misty; I'm seven years old; do you like my Mom?" she replied.

Susan walked up about that time and chuckled "Plead the fifth amendment in response to everything she grills you about tonight, Brett. Misty is going to be a prosecutor when she grows up."

I got a kiss on the cheek from Susan; she was suitably impressed with the roses. Misty and her less precocious little sister Beth were also impressed with their gifts so they immediately warmed up to me.

The four of us buzzed around the kitchen helping with dinner – although Misty and Beth seemed to be more help than I was. By the time that we sat down to eat about 7:45 I already felt that I had known them for a long time.

The dinner conversation was interesting. Misty did ask questions like a prosecutor and made embarrassing (to Susan) comments that only a precocious little girl would make. The most embarrassing statement was "You know, Mr. Connor, Mom has never had a man over for dinner with us; she must really like you."

I laughed and said "She pleads the Fifth."

"What does that mean?" Beth asked.

"It means that I won't be commenting on it," Susan chuckled.

The meal was truly excellent.

After dinner we all helped with cleanup – Susan had her daughters well trained. We had another half hour of conversation; during this time I looked around and saw how tastefully Susan's condo was decorated, and how discerning the pieces of art she had were. After our conversation Susan sent the girls to get ready for bed; there was no back-talk. When they were in their pajamas they came back into the living room.

Beth shyly came up to me with a book entitled "Dragons Love Tacos." "Would you read this to me in my bedroom?" she reticently asked.

"Honey, Brett and I are going to have an adult conversation, he doesn't..." Susan said before I cut her off.

"I would actually love to Beth," I smiled glancing over at Susan to see a big smile on her face.

"Will you tuck me in, Mom?" Misty asked.

So Susan went to Misty's room and me to Beth's. The book was hilarious – even funnier was Beth correcting me if I left even one word out or had a poor explanation of any of the drawings – she obviously had memorized the book.

After I kissed her on the forehead and said goodnight, as I went to turn off the light she asked "Will I see you again Mr. Connor?"

"You can count on it, honey," I laughed.

Susan was back in the living room with a glass of wine in her hand, and one poured for me, when I returned. "Sorry that you got sandbagged," she grinned.

"I was honored. I've always wanted kids but ditched my ex before we had them. Your two are adorable," I honestly responded.

"They're my life," Susan sincerely retorted.

After some more compliments about the dinner, her taste in furnishings, etc., I said "OK, Susan. Are you willing to plan some activities for the future? I can only stay in Seattle tonight and tomorrow night and then have to return to Chicago. What's your schedule like the next two days?"

"Except for 90 minutes at the health club each day – which I never miss – and getting the kids ready for school, and picking them up, I want to spend time with you to investigate if you really are serious about a relationship, and how it could possibly work. I also have to wonder why someone as rich as you obviously are would have any interest in me, and what would your family and friends say?" she replied in a completely no-nonsense voice.

"Great; I hope you don't mind me working out at the same time, although you'll probably put me to shame. As far as what others think, I could give a shit. In the meantime we can go anywhere you want and take the girls whenever appropriate. But let's write down a schedule for the rest of the month too," I smiled.

We negotiated, conversed, checked schedules, and exchanged ideas for the next two hours. About every fifteen minutes she'd lightly punch my shoulder and said "Stop staring at my boobs," or "Stop staring at my thighs" (through the glass top kitchen table), as the case may be. I only grinned, and continued to stare whenever the opportunity arose.

By 10:45 we had everything planned. As we said goodbye Susan gave me a scorching kiss and then moaned "I'd love for you to spend the night – but I never will have anyone over while my girls are here unless I end up in a committed relationship."

"I understand, sexy," I grinned. "I told you this month is not about sex – although I wouldn't mind some – but about the possibility of a relationship. See you tomorrow morning at ten to go to your health club," getting me one more passionate kiss before I walked out to my waiting limo.

************

When I arrived at 9:35 the next morning (I wasn't too anxious) Susan was already dressed in her workout duds. "Do you have changes of clothes in that suitcase?" she asked, pointing to the valise in my hand.

"Sure do," I replied.

"Dismiss your limo for the day – I'll drive everywhere we need to go," she stated.

I did as ordered, and we got into her Prius. "I see that you drive an environmentally friendly car," I smiled.

"I need to help preserve the future for my girls," she smiled back.

When we got to the health club both the female receptionist and the male owner were at the front desk. They greeted Susan warmly, obviously well familiar with her. She told the owner "I have a guest today – I've never had one before so I don't know if there's a charge."

"For our best customer, no," he chuckled. Then he looked carefully at me. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Bret Connor?" he inquired.

"I get that a lot," I laughed, "but I assume that Bret Connor owns his own gym."

The owner laughed too. Susan shot a playfully nasty look at me. As we walked away from the desk she asked "Are you famous in addition to rich?"

"I may be a little famous with people concerned with the environment because my biggest company is the first one in the world to have zero adverse environmental impact, and I was recently written up in both the Wall Street Journal and New Yorker magazine" I smiled.

"But I thought that you told me last night that you got here by private plane – how is that environmentally friendly?"

"It is because for every hour that my private jet operates one of my companies buys an acre of deforested land in either the Amazon or Canada and replants it, that's how."

Susan smiled broadly, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and then said "Let's get to work."

I found out several things over the next ninety minutes.

One, Susan is a workout fiend. She had the most intense workout I'd ever seen. No wonder that aside from genetics her body was perfect – not an ounce of unnecessary flesh and lots of sculptured muscle. Her body looked like Elizabeth Hurley's.

Two, when she worked up a sweat in her workout clothes she could make a eunuch cum just by looking at her.

Three, I wasn't the only guy who thought that she was the epitome of hot. Every male there either stared at her or tried to talk to her. She politely declined all conversation with "Sorry, but I have to get my workout done and then get to work so I can't chat," and then just ignored them.

While I didn't match her intensity, I was beat when we finished. As we started walking to her car I asked "Aren't we going to shower here?"

"No – we can't fuck in the shower here," she smiled.

We did, in fact, fuck in the shower at her condo. For some reason my fatigue just disappeared when we got into her large shower stall together, especially when she bent over and exposed her moist (and not from the shower water) pussy to me. It came as no surprise that it was by far the best shower fuck of my life.

We went to get STD tested later that day, and visited the classic Seattle sites. In a pause in our activities Susan pulled into a park and said "I've got some serious information to impart to you."

"OK," I smiled.

"There were two things I wasn't honest with you about during our conversation the night we met, and one we haven't discussed," she sighed, obviously a little bit nervous.

"OK," I replied, "What are they?"

"The first is that I hate being a call girl – it isn't even 'OK' like I related when you asked a question about how I liked it. I do it only out of necessity," she responded her eyes moving between mine and the floor of her car.

"Not surprising," I retorted. What else?"

"I lied by omission about the second thing. I lost my job in the art field because I was arrested for stealing two pieces of art from the gallery that I worked at. I wasn't the one who pilfered them, but I was fired and it cost me all of my savings – and even going into debt – for attorney fees to prove my innocence. Even when the charges were dropped, however, I wasn't hired back and there was a black cloud hanging over my head so I was unable to get a job in the field that I loved and knew. My bills, combined with not working for several months, put me in such a bad financial situation that I was worried about properly taking care of my girls. I found that the only way that I could get out of debt and properly support my girls was to become a call girl."

"What didn't we discuss?" I calmly asked.

"The girls' father; my ex-husband. He was my ex, and died, when the girls were two and three, just before I lost my job. He was really bad with money and left almost nothing to the girls and only had a $5,000 life insurance policy – who gets a policy for $5,000? Anyway, they don't remember him and have no male influence in their lives," she said.

She again looked between my eyes and the floor. When I didn't immediately respond she continued "So, if you want your check back and to withdraw your proposal I'm happy to oblige."

I thought for a minute or two then replied. "I absolutely do NOT want my check back. I want to continue as before. If you don't mind I'll do a background check on you but unless you turn out to be an ax murderer I doubt that my decision will change. Deal?" I smiled, holding out my hand.

"Deal," she chuckled, and then pushed my hand away and kissed me on the lips.

Shortly after that we picked the girls up from school, and had a lovely evening.

I did arrange for an expedited background check the next day; when it came back a week later there was nothing about it that caused me to reconsider. Her problem with the law was just as she described it except apparently unknown to her because it was handled quietly the individual who stole the pieces of art she was charged with stealing was identified; he fled the country. When I told her that she was very happy, though pissed that no one from her former employer had ever informed her of that.

The next two days and nights, a Friday and Saturday, in Seattle were very interesting. I was able to conduct business for a few hours a day with my new phone, but spent most of the time with Susan and her delightful daughters. We did all sorts of fun things – most free, but if there was a cost I readily took care of it. Little Beth seemed to really take to me, and insisted on holding my hand whenever we walked together.

All three Collins women were sorry to see me leave them Sunday morning. They came to the airport with me to see me off, the two girls with sincere hugs, Susan with a steaming hot kiss that she tried to hide from the girls, but apparently without success since they were giggling as I left.

The next week I got Susan to get a sitter for the girls, and had her fly (on my private plane) to see me in Chicago. While I'm really rich my house and surroundings – except for my artwork – are humble for someone of my means. Susan seemed to be impressed by that. She stayed over Tuesday – Thursday nights, and although the sex wasn't as long-lasting, athletic, or vigorous as our first night together, it was even better. Tuesday night when she almost ripped my dick off by riding me cowgirl while I mauled her ponderous mammaries, I had the best experience of my life.

While I was at work I had a chauffeur take Susan around to any art venue that she wanted to see, including private galleries and collections that I made arrangements for her to visit.

The next week over the phone I asked her to bring Misty and Beth with her from Wednesday through Sunday. "But they have school, and the school that they go to does not allow unexcused absences. It could be really bad for me and them."

"Susan," I replied, "Whoever said that money can't buy happiness is 100% correct, which I am a living example of. However, money can buy almost everything else. Give me the principal's name and number."

She did, I called, the absences were excused and the school's staff made every effort to give the girls what they would miss to take with them. In return the school received a new state-of-the-art audiovisual system.

The girls seemed to love the Chicagoland area that I lived in. There were lots of fun things to do, and other children around. While Susan and I pretended to sleep in separate bedrooms, and although the sex was somewhat inhibited because the girls were in the same building, it was still better than any other sex I had ever had in my life before Susan.

On Saturday late afternoon into the evening I did a very brave thing – something that Susan was apprehensive about, but agreed to, probably because at that point she believed that there was at least a 25% chance that we could in fact have a real relationship. We went to meet my family including my high society parents, my younger brother and his wife, my favorite female cousin and her husband, and the three children (combined) of my brother and cousin.

I bought Susan a new outfit (of course she picked it out, but with my suggestions) that was the right mix of sexy and staid, and new dresses for both girls, which they picked out – ignoring both my and Susan's suggestions.

Susan was charming, the girls polite yet precocious (or at least Misty was), and in general the evening went better than I expected, although all three women at one point or another playfully chastised their husbands for paying too much attention to Susan.

Sunday, we went to my parents' country club pool. I myself do not belong to a country club because I think it pretentious, but in weaker moments I do go there, and the girls were really anxious to go swimming in a heated pool. Susan wore a conservative one-piece suit, which I was very grateful for since otherwise she would have caused at least a couple of heart attacks by elderly male members.

We were having a nice time – that is until disaster struck. My ex-wife, Kerry, showed up with her high society parents. Kerry is the epitome of cute – like a new puppy – and perky. Unfortunately, behind the pleasant façade is a cheating back-stabbing bitch. Both her parents and mine, who travel in the same high society circles, were distressed when I booted her to the curb and enforced the pre-nup (which was mutual for cheating) although none of them ever knew the reason that I booted her. The divorce proceedings were secret, Kerry never told anyone why I was divorcing her, and I saw no reason to do so either. I simply refused to talk about it with anyone, simply deferring by saying "ask Kerry." She only left the marriage with $100,000 of my money.

Adding to the stress of my divorce I had recently heard through friends – and even my own father – that Kerry was making noises about coming to see and talk to me. I ignored all comments made by others about that possibility. Adding to my distress, today, however, was noticing my parents warmly greeting Kerry's.

I was trying to keep an eye on Kerry so that I could run if she got anywhere near the side of the pool where I was. However, Misty and Beth insisted that I watch them swim and had me put objects on the bottom of the shallow end that they could dive for, while Susan did laps.

After my activities with the kids they reconnected with their Mom and went off to get snacks at the snack bar. I returned to my lounge chair in the shade only to be ambushed by Kerry.

"Hi Bret," she cheerfully gushed as she pounced from a hiding place.

"What do you want, Kerry?" I asked in a monotone, without facial expression.

"Don't be like that Bret. I told you that I was sorry..." she started to say.

"Oh, really – when was that exactly?" I snapped.

"In all of the letters that I wrote you, of course, since you wouldn't take my phone calls. My attorney said that she hand-delivered all of them to you," she sighed.

"Didn't read them, but did recycle them so as not to pollute the landfill," I snidely responded. She didn't catch the put-down.

After some more one-sided "conversation" Kerry started to say "You know you made it out to be a much bigger deal than it was..." as Susan and the girls were walking toward me, each girl with an ice cream cone in her hands, and Susan with two umbrella drinks.

I interrupted Kerry by saying "Susan...I'm glad that you're here. I want you to meet someone who was just leaving, my ex-wife Kerry."

"Is that your new girlfriend?" Kerry gasped when she got a good look at Susan who – even in a one-piece suit – was the sexiest woman at the pool (or anywhere else as far as I was concerned).

"No, my fiancé," I grinned.

Kerry started crying and took off.

Susan handed me my umbrella drink – she knew that I disliked umbrellas in drinks and was doing it just to tease me – and then sat down next to me. There was stone cold silence for about a minute and then she turned to me and in a monotone said "I don't remember you asking me to marry you, or accepting a marriage proposal, nor do I remember getting a ring."

"Uh...Susan...uh...look," I nervously stammered. "I needed to get rid of that bitch as quickly as possible and unfortunately that was the easy way to do it that popped into my head. I'm really sorry. What can I do to make up for it?"

"Tell anyone who she tells and who asks you that it's not true – and a 30 minute back massage tonight with no hanky-panky. Got it?" she snapped back.

"Got it," I replied.

After a few minutes of quiet, once the girls returned to sit by us, everything returned to normal.

I didn't know quite what to make of Susan's reaction to my "fiancé" blunder. I did give her a full 30 minute back massage that night, with no hanky-panky until it was over. Boy was the hanky-panky that followed fantastic, though, although I again was left with a sore dick and overwhelming fatigue.

I was really sorry to see Susan and the girls go early Monday morning – early enough that with the time difference between Chicago and Seattle that they could get to school on time. Susan seemed to have completely forgiven me for the "fiancé" comment given the scorching kiss that she left me with, while the girls were pouting because they were sad to go.

I had planned to fly to Seattle Wednesday night of that week. I talked with my three "girls" on the phone both Monday and Tuesday nights, and to Susan several other times during the days, usually shortly before and after she worked out. I was finishing up some final business matters Wednesday afternoon when the receptionist rang me and said "Your father is coming up to your office."

It was fairly unusual for Dad to come to my office since I had complete operational control of almost all aspects of our companies and we normally could deal with any issues that he raised on the phone, but it was far from unprecedented. Therefore I didn't give it any thought.

Dad never knocked when he did come to my office – there really was no need. After we exchanged a manly hug he closed the door and sat down with "Son, there's something serious I need to talk to you about. I was talking with the Smythes," the "Smythes" being Kerry's parents, "and your mother, and we really think that you should give Kerry another chance."