"Hello, you must be Shayne. I'm Mr. Caldwell's boy, Jerome. Come on in. I'll take your bag to your room. He's out beyond the great room, in the pool. Go on back."
With that welcome, I entered the world of Ted Caldwell, retired supposed master spy, the man I'd been sent to the New Jersey shore to interview over the weekend for Spy magazine.
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Latisha sat quietly while looking at the young man sitting opposite her, he appeared visibly upset by the news and she felt for him.
"Duncan, I don't know what to say to ease your mind, but you know our Amanda, she can be very stubborn at times and after what she saw on that video...well it sounded pretty weird," Latisha said, somewhat sympathetically.
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It was tough getting up so early, but the bar had changed hands again and the new owner wanted to meet everyone this morning. Reets hadn't seen a 9AM in a month of Sundays, but she dragged herself up anyway. Caryn, her lover, said, "Come on, break that law of physics!"
The not-nearly-awake Reets could only reply, "Huh?"
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“Hey, here we go,” Jenny said enthusiastically. “’Fiesta Bowl Tickets. Best offer. 555-3785.’ He doesn’t even bother mentioning money. Maybe he’s thinking like we are.”
“Could be. Might be worth a call.” Kim never looked up from the paper she was reading on the couch. The remainder of the Sunday paper was strewn on the apartment’s floor. Except for the classifieds, which Jenny scanned at the kitchen table.
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I was standing in the airport waiting for my best friend. I hadn't seen her in about 5 years. Both of our jobs were demanding, and it took up most of out free time. But recently, we both got jobs that allowed us to work from home, and making better money. With these jobs, we could work from anywhere. So there I am, standing in the airport, watching for her.
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It was a bad breakup. As so often happens, I had come by his place to surprise him, and found him between the legs of his next-door neighbor. I was pissed, to say the least. After a few months of dating Ben and Jerry, I decided I needed to go shopping. I had plenty of lingerie, ranging from leather corsets to lace babydolls, but I was missing a pair of fuck-me heels.
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"Happy Fucking Birthday to me!" I thought to myself.
If only I knew at that moment just how happy my fifty-second birthday was truly going to be. But as I took my regular afternoon jog through Meyer Park in the northwest suburbs of Houston, Texas; my mind was a swirling mess of self-pity, loneliness and sexual frustration. My husband and I had been divorced for nearly four years, all three of my children were either grown and gone or away visiting their father for the summer and I hadn't gotten a good piece of ass in what seemed like decades.
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I don't think I will ever forget that weekend I spent at Meg's. It was the beginning of summer, and I had a couple of days to kill in the city before flying back home. Meg had decided to stay and work for the duration of the summer at the museum, and so she'd rented this small one bedroom apartment downtown. It was the coziest little place you ever saw, and we both had a grand old time decorating it;
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Beth Wilson arrived home late. It was 1:30 AM, and she was beat. She thought to herself, I'd better check on Nancy to make sure she's OK. Beth peeked in Nancy's room and stood in the doorway dumfounded. She saw Nancy, another young woman, and a grown man all sleeping together! Obviously, none of them had heard her come in.
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"So, what are you going to do for a living?" Vivian asked the young man who was visiting along with her son from college.
"I'm retired," Paul Redman replied with a grin.
"Uh, you're kind of young for that aren't you?" Vivian asked in confusion.
"Yes ma'am, I am."
Vivian's son, Cal, said, "Paul was a millionaire by the time he graduated high school."
"More like five million," Paul corrected.
"Five million by the time you graduated high school! You must be some kind of a genius," Vivian said in shock. She had never met anyone worth that much money.
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