You're Worth Dying For Ch. 05

THE FINAL: Business woman Maggie de Lacey is taken hostage in a bank robbery and when her new husband rushes in and attempts to free her Ryan is shot through the chest, but survives. Marksmen kill one of the armed robbers holding Maggie and save Maggie again by immobilizing another robber attempting to shoot her with a shotgun. All this drama is being shown live on TV. Maggie is hailed as a heroine but insists for her the real hero is Ryan because had he not placed the robbers in disarray as they were leaving the bank more lives could have been lost in the pursuit of them – including her own. A nurse reveals to a reporter she heard Ryan say to his new wife that she was worth dying for.

A month after being shot at the scene of the robber Ryan de Lacey was back at home with Maggie in their penthouse apartment, dividing his time between physiotherapy aimed at getting his left shoulder working properly again, doing light company work from his home office and slowly re-entering social life.

Maggie of course had returned to work, almost everyone welcomed her back and she handled the return of the Australians to the negotiating table with aplomb; lucrative contracts for the Southgate publishing company printing three Australian magazines were signed.

Maggie also negotiated the approval of the board to reduce her working hours from 7:00 to noon, except for meetings or urgent appearances, to allow her to work on raising donations to fund improvements to the structurally refurbished and extended Children’s Wing at Southgate Hospital. Her offer to accept a proportionate reduction in salary was rejected as unwarranted by fellow directors. At her suggestion management under the control of the executive committee would continue until Ryan returned to his desk fulltime.

By now Maggie felt a need and tried to ignore, it but it persisted. She’d trained herself to more or less ignore her sexual desires after Stephen’s death but sex had become excessively rampant when Ryan entered her life and, with that activity severely cut back she once again felt greatly frustrated and accepted she must do something about it.

* * *

Afternoons began to consume Maggie’s life, as she hoped they would, because she was eager to new business adventure. She met with the hospital board which approved her strategic and business plans with little comment, the two-tier organization for the reformed fund-raising structure attracting nothing but support. Maggie’s positional paper that suggested the administration/management structure be headed by her as chairman was agreed to with acclaim.

The second recommendation that the executive committee comprise herself as chairman with the six other members being appointed was also approved. The two opponents to that recommendation capitulated when Maggie referred them to Article 3:1 which stated ‘Expenditure on any fund-raising initiative be capped at $10,000unless any higher figure for any project received board approval prior to the committee resolving to commit to such expenditure’.

“That puts the lid on any wacky expenditure,” said one of the earlier critics, the board’s deputy chairman and the other board member with misgivings agreed.

Maggie’s first appointment to the fund-raising executive committee was its youngest member, the butcher’s daughter, Susan Cook, a marketing graduate aspiring to become an events organizer after having had work experience in that field.

Her next appointment was the radio-head Indiana Dick, real name Freddie Payne. He’d already met Maggie and signed a mutual contract with her for the production of the blood-stained ‘dress front’ on T-shirts which were selling enormously well, particularly since Maggie had sales available through a website. The associated song commissioned by Indiana Dick’s radio station ‘Maggie, You’re Worth Dying For’ was currently a hit charts single in New Zealand, Australia, Germany, the UK and on both coasts of the US and estimated royalties to the Children’s Wing makeover fund from those two projects were now expected to exceed $1,250,000.

At the time of being approached Indiana Dick had said, “Maggie, are you sure you want me on your committee? Older folk hate me, mothers of teenage daughters call me Satan and when I’m on the streets alone the cops pick me up for questioning and drug testing. What’s more, never in my life have I been invited to join anything.”

“That’s your uniqueness Freddie and that’s why I want you – I need at least one other person capable of thinking outside the square.”

Indiana Dick agreed and departed, shaking his head.

To her astonishment Maggie found herself drawn to Freddie – rotund Indiana Dick with a moustache and gravel voice who walked with a limp. Absolutely not her type at all and besides, she was married and had no intention of experiencing adultery for the first time in two marriages. She and Ryan had recommenced sexual activity but did so very tentatively whereas, although fighting it, she felt the pull of Freddie’s underlying sexuality which she accepted was part of the reason for his cult appeal.

This attraction interested her because it was so one-sided; the guy rarely looked at her beyond quick glances – initially she’d had described them as shifty looks and NEVER had he make the slightest advance towards her. Well, if he had, it passed unnoticed. Indeed, he did his best to repel her without apparently trying. He occasionally passed wind for goodness sake without embarrassment or attempted apology or looking around for the ‘culprit’. Once when about to sneeze he held out his hand for Maggie’s handkerchief and then handed it back, wet, for goodness sake. She later dropped it into a street bin. He swore and drank too much and loved talking about himself. Maggie had tried to distance herself, appalled by this man and his social behavior but gradually was making excuses for him to herself to ensure he remained marginally acceptable.

Their affair lasted not quite six months – the bastard (Maggie’s word used when telling Harriet and Beth) jilted her, announcing he’d found another woman as he preferred his companions to be in their very late teens. His behavior didn’t change towards her – he’d never revealed his sexual interest in her publicly – so with great maturity she decided to keep him on the committee to continue mining his expertise in motivating the public.

Two weeks later Beth called her to say she’d met Freddie. He’d appeared almost revolting and he hadn’t interested her. She phoned two nights later saying Freddie had asked her to meet him so would Maggie mind.

“He’ll fuck you.”

“I know, I have this feeling I’d think I would have in going to the guillotine.”

“Ah, I know the feeling. Beware darling, he’ll dump you like a rag.”

“Like you, I’m strong enough to shed only one tear and get on with it.”

“Good luck and enjoy.”

“Thank you sweet Maggie; there’s something about men, isn’t there?”

The call terminated, leaving Maggie reflecting on her friend’s final comment. Yes, she agreed but what was it about Freddie? She hadn’t a clue and sighed – it would be a revelation if Beth came away from Freddie knowing that answer.

It was Freddie who’d started it, saying: “Maggie, we’ve had a couple of meetings over coffee recently for discussions that to me seem rather spurious; are you wanted sex with me?”

She’d spilt coffee down her front; he jumped to her aid and began wiping it with the coffee shop’s damask table cloth. Feeling his hands thumping over her breasts, raising her nipples to bullet-like hardness, she opened her mouth to tell him to shove off, she’d do it; he was making a scene. Then he kissed her – in full public view.

She pulled away, threw a twenty dollar note on the table – he always left her to pay – and said, “Let’s get out of here.” She meant let’s get out of here you clown, you have publicly embarrassed me whereas he appeared to be thinking she’s meant let’s get out of here and get it off. He hurried her away and once on the footpath he slapped a hand on to the right cheek of her ass and grunted, “Are you wearing panties?”

She was horrified at her reaction. Almost panting she answered, “You won’t feel elastic edge there – the thingy I’m wearing is almost a thong but let’s not behave like this where people can see us.”

“Rex Plate’s hotel is just up ahead – I can get a room and we can fix you up.”

She assumed he meant the coffee spill and nodded, feeling the surge of excitement that he probably also had something else in mind. Would she let him have her? She wasn’t sure but knew she often lied to herself.

The room was on the next level so they went up the stairs after on the landing, out of sight from below, they slammed into each other, kissing hungrily. It was only at that point that Maggie decided there was no turning back, that she wanted hard-on sex. She felt no shame and thought she was unlikely to suffer remorse afterwards because she was a self-made, tough and self-centered woman and the only surprising thing was she’d never cheated on her man of the moment or a husband before this. She didn’t know if Freddie was cheating on anyone and really didn’t care she thought as he dragged her through the door; she squealed like a piglet going to the slaughter as he picked her up roughly and tossed her on to the bed.

Maggie jumped off immediately. He was unbuckling his belt and she drew off the pretty bedspread saying, “Hotel management will appreciate this beautiful cover not being soiled.”

“Do you also want to brush your teeth and douche,” he muttered. Riled as such insensitivity she lost it and went to slap him although she’d never slapped anyone in her life.

For such a lazy guy he surprised her, ducking under her swing grinning and with both hands pulled off her skirt, not ripping it but the back holding button went flying off behind her.

He backed off and they eyed one another, both panting. “I’ll ease back; don’t want to be accused of anything serious,” he said.

“You are doing this by consent – do what you wish, though not quite anything.”

“I understand. What would you like me to do?”

“Finger me a bit and then do it.”

“That’s a clear instruction.”

“We seem to be having a committee meeting.”

“Funny woman; you have amazing legs.”

“Well, do something with them you procrastinating clown.”

He went “Grrrrrrrr!” and his charge landed them on the bed in an inelegant waving of arms and legs and very wet kisses commenced with wildly rotating tongue.

Maggie felt her narrow crutch panties being ripped off but didn’t care, groaned as he slid in two rough fingers and one-handed pulled off her shirt and undid her front-opening bra. His slobbering mouth slid down to attack a nipple and she groaned, wetting his fingers even more as she convulsed while attempting to apparently push his head through her chest,

“Whoa, whoa,” he cried, lifting his face to get air.” Slow down or else I’ll also ejaculate prematurely.”

“That wasn’t main course – that was your entrée. Why do you think they call this intercourse, big boy?”

He grinned and pulled down his track pants and waggled a rather big thing at her, making her eyes pop.

“You’re funny,” he said lifting and spreading her lips with fingers that entered her; Maggie closed her eyes, moaned and then grunted as he slammed the remaining piece of him home.

She wasn’t going to make comparisons – it felt improper to think of one’s husband at such a time, but he was okay; he had the enthusiasm she’d been missing and bit his shoulder and then urged him to pound her.

“I won’t last if I hit full pace.”

“I don’t care. I just want a good bang.”

“Sorry, Mags but I’m only good for two shots.”

“Fine, we’re not in an endurance contest.”

“How can you…ooops, I’ve slipped out…how can you talk so rationally at a time like this?”

“Could it be I lack passion?” she asked, squeezing his testicles, causing him to blast away.

They rested, sweating, until she rolled him away and removed the condom. “Do you have another of these? Usually I’m not into this sort of thing so don’t carry any.”

“Yes, in my wallet – one plain one, one tickler; your choice.”

Maggie rolled the tickler on him thinking at least he smelled as if he bathed. In the meantime he moaned about not having a full shot left as she’d made him explode.

“Come on, being a one-shot man will be devastating to your ego. I’ll turn facing the dresser mirror – they design these rooms to allow for this.”

“Why do I have to look in the mirror?”

“We’ll do it doggy; you thrust away and look at my breasts – you’ll get the motivation to shoot again, believe me.”

Freddie wanted a much longer rest but she would not allow this, saying she had arranged to meet her mother for late lunch. Freddie began though not greatly enthused but nothing much was happening.

“Faster.”

“Gawd you’re a hard woman.”

He picked up the pace and she began thrusting back in rhythm, moving her shoulders from side to side slightly.

“Oh bravo, look at your tits swinging,” he cried, and she felt him thicken a little more. She squeezed, applying greater friction until noticing her eyes beginning to bulge she really clamped him. He bleated like a billygoat and grinned, knowing he’d got a good shot away and was feeling her convulsing around him.

“That was expertly done,” he said. “You shower and go and I’ll stay on here for a nap; you’ve absolutely stuffed me.”

The skirt stayed up okay so along the street Maggie purchased new panties and a new shirt and discarded the items being replaced. She did her make-up in the changing room and went to meet her mother.

“You’re looking beautiful, almost glowing,” Harriet said. “Have you just had sex?”
The know-all, what on earth could she say.

“Ryan must be getting better,” Harriet said, not quite being the perfect know-all.

As she predicted, Maggie felt no remorse as the post-coital haze left her during lunch and afterwards went she went home and was kissing Ryan, he fondling her breasts over her shirt, and still felt invincible. “Take them out if you’d like to play,” she whispered wanting a real test.

At no time then, or thereafter, did she feel villainess for becoming an adulteress. And why should it be anything else, she thought? In her view it had been simple expedient sex. It had been as if she’d coupled with a…um…newt. She’d given away her body for a short while, but not her love. She didn’t expect other people with higher standards of beliefs, faith and their version of morality to agree with her view; no matter, to her it was her view that counted. What Ryan would think if he knew the truth was better left aside as it was an issue with the potential to have a huge downside.

This means is I’m not a particularly moral person, Maggie sighed.

It was only two days after she’d learned Freddie had found someone else that Ryan was allowed home. Geoff Smith had said he was making more than a satisfactory recovery and gave him a letter to the physiotherapist to gradually work up Ryan into more vigorous exercising.

“That also applies to sex darling,” Ryan grinned. “Geoff didn’t say that but the implication clearly is there.”

“I’m coming to fetch you home darling, right now,” Maggie said, switching off her phone and racing to her car.

They first had sex in the pool on their huge deck; Maggie suggested it would take any strain off his muscles, allowing him to be a little more active knowing he’d have little chance of hurting himself.

“Try getting me pregnant,” she whispered. “I stopped taking my pills last week, knowing you’d be home soon – is that’s okay with you?”

Ryan beamed and said, “Let’s make all the spare rooms into nurseries.”

“Nothing will happen for a while because of the residue of contraceptives in me.”

“Who cares, if it’s a long road to hoe, let’s start hoeing.”

Six weeks later Ryan drove to work. Although he’d called in during his convalescence on this occasion he really received a hero’s welcome as it was his real return to work. That afternoon Maggie attended a meeting she’d organized attended by representatives of health insurers, medical and pharmaceutical firms, Government Health Department officials, the Film Commission and the funding organization New Zealand on Air. As a result of the four-hour meeting a working party under the chairmanship of Southgate Hospital’s Dr Milly Carruthers, an internationally known pediatrician, to investigate the production of an hour-long film for public television and possible international sales on behalf of the Southgate Children’s Wing Appeal Trust about latest trends in the medical treatment of children, including surgery in the womb through to extending the quality of life for children with terminal conditions.

Maggie’s opening presentation was applauded for its brilliance as was Dr Carruther’s very dry but riveting presentation which ended with her promise to secure cooperation of colleagues in Edinburgh and in research hospitals in the United States describing breath-taking breakthroughs – on film, in operating theatre and diagrammatically – of new treatments in hospital as they work to improve the health of children. She was confident she could secure international support, including contributions to funding, simply by emailing a précis of the proposed project to a half-dozen people worth targeting.

She was applauded.

“As those who know me will understand, I’m not in the habit of making promises – but this time it’s different because our Maggie is suggesting to us a brilliant way of advancing medical knowledge publicly to a small section of patients who grab our hearts because of their wee size and vulnerability. My hospital will, of course, gain a few pennies as a result of close involvement in this project but so be it. Those of you without blinkers will see immense value in becoming involved in this project.”

“Well, I think everyone went away in a positive frame of mine,” said Maggie to the two women drinking coffee with her – Dr Carruthers and a woman Maggie had introduced right at the end of the meeting, Melbourne based Iona McDougall. Iona was an award-winning producer of documentaries and had lost a child to induced abortion because of severe spinal deformations but was now proud mother of two very bright young teenagers in perfect health.

“To me they looked interested in getting their cronies to the nearest pub,” Milly said.

“And what do you think they will be talking about there?” Maggie prodded.

“You, standing up there and looking so scrumptious.”

“Milly!”

“Aye, I sometimes have a wee breakout.”

“Ignore her, Iona.”

“But why, Milly is the perfect specimen of what a feisty woman should act like. I think she’s adorable. My impression at the end of the meeting was nothing but favorable. I anticipate the working party will recommend we proceed, the only potential stumbling block being money.”

“Don’t worry your pretty hair over that Iona – we’ll milk Government funding as hard as we can but the real money will come from pharmaceutical companies from here and abroad and American philanthropy will fund totally their involvement as well as the cost of Iona and her production team going there to film it. It’s the Edinburgh financing I’m worried about.”

“Let’s seek it from Scots in America – they began going their in numbers from three centuries ago so out to have minted some real wealth by now.”

“My God, Maggie that’s it!” Milly cried.

Maggie had the advertising agency produce a project proposal document to her specifications and with Milly’s cooperation sending in a photographer to take appealing shots at the Children’s Wing to illustrate it. The 20-page document was then published, without charge, by the commercial print division at Maggie’s company and she had three copies sent to everyone who’d attended her presentation meeting with a personally written covering note.