CHAPTER 4: NORMALCY… NOT
The days and weeks that turned into a few months provided consistency and a sense of what could be expected that tempted me to wonder if it was my new normalcy. Was this going to be what my life was going to be like? The routine calls from Mr. or Mrs. Baldwin to go out to dinner and then their house, or just to go to their house for an afternoon or evening, or to go to their house for the weekend? Knowing that each call would involve sexual acts with one or both of them at their whim? Frequently receiving packages delivered to the house ordered by them that contained intimate apparel, stockings, negligees, or sexual-aid toys? Being given explicit instructions by one or both of them on how and when to use the toys? Being taken shopping for increasingly revealing dresses, higher heels that took time to adjust to, half-shelf bras, and tiny thongs? To be put into increasing situations of exhibitionism at dressing rooms, cars, and generally in public while wearing the new clothes that provided plunging necklines and mini-length skirts?
Normalcy? The usual, regular, habitual expectation to occur with some usual frequency in the week? I hoped so!
The first few weeks after deliberately and willingly committing myself to this strong, confident, and powerful couple were a whirlwind of emotionally and physically testing experiences. I supposed those first weeks were necessary as a reality check for me. First, being taken by him orally and vaginally in his office with Sarah right outside the door at her desk. Then, spending the Saturday night with them at their home with no clothes for myself, giving and receiving pleasure, them partially clothed at times but me always naked. Then, being ravaged by Mrs. Baldwin and her two friends just days later. What would I accept? What would I respond to when asked? Would I reject anything? Would I balk at anything? I am sure they needed to know. Would I withdraw into my old self after some time to reflect and consider what I was doing and what they were expecting? I am sure they had questions if I might accept this for the long term or if I reacted from a sort of desperate need to be quickly fed and then regretted.
None of those concerns, if they had them, ever materialized, emerged. I never felt anything but a deeper desire to serve and please them, to show my obedience to their needs, to prove my commitment to that task. I never questioned, doubted, or weighed the actions I was taking. I only found myself continuously anticipating, even yearning, for what might come next.
The times between my visits with the Baldwins took on something of a routine. But not necessarily boring or frustrating. I took care of the house and yard. I was instructed to be naked as much as possible. Although the yard was fenced, it was not a privacy fence so I had to be dressed but was challenged to increase my exposure with bikinis, halter tops that sagged open at the top and sides, tight shorts, or short loose shorts without panties. Inside, I was always naked unless there was company. I would have to scurry for a covering when the doorbell rang but I was instructed for it to be revealing or suggestive like a loose robe or towel as if I was just preparing for a shower. I was given specific instructions on using the toys they sent to me. BenWa balls in my pussy, small anal plugs, small vibrators in my pussy, or fitted against my clit in panties. There were bigger toys, long or thick or vibrating dildos, that I was instructed to use for specific periods during the day. I would set my smartphone timer for those times to be sure to satisfy the instruction but usually found myself recovering from an orgasm or two and the timer had long ago ended, the buzzing reminder having stopped on its own. I found myself taking increasing pleasure in cooking more interesting and extravagant meals for three or four, the leftovers going into the refrigerator for another meal by myself. But it evolved that I began cooking meals for the Baldwins when I spent a weekend with them until it became a routine if we didn’t go out to a restaurant giving them an opportunity for some form of exhibitionism fun with me. I was generally naked or erotically dressed when at their house, always easily available to the touched, probed, or used at any time. While with them, it was never unusual for one of them to find me being used by the other somewhere in the house or yard or me giving oral pleasure or receiving it. They both believed in what became a mantra: the focused intention of giving pleasure results in the most pleasurable experiences.
Reflecting on those months, though, it was still a period of growth, evolution, and careful expansion. I was, after all, a married woman even if I wasn’t acting like it. Did I have regrets about what I was doing? No. Should I have? It didn’t seem so. It truly felt that I was coming into my own, realizing my true nature, becoming what I deep inside was and should be. It strangely felt separated from the married woman I also was, as if I was in a chrysalis stage of development before breaking completely free and showing my wonderful, beautiful, free, and liberated self. And, the Baldwins were patiently, carefully guiding.
It wasn’t all just them, though. The women and other women were sometimes involved in similar activities. I learned to use the strap on as they had used on me. But only one time was another man involved and when it happened as a random-seeming situation but carefully orchestrated. I had been instructed to pick up a stranger in a hotel bar and go up to his room with him only to find out later that it had been prearranged, though at the time it felt quite dangerous and exciting. Another test, I was sure.
The headphones were a continuity through it all, too. The headphones were at the beginning and continued as a source of quiet, peace, and calm. They were also a continued source of inspiration, validation, and corroboration of who I wanted to be and was intent on becoming. The music would periodically change but it maintained the same strange combination of calm and inspiration. When I asked Sarah about that during one of her routine follow-ups, she reminded me that they had upgraded the WI-FI in the house and the headphones to better receive updates on the headphone programming but also to allow better management of what the headphones contained for playback so it would never become mundane and too repetitious for me.
Usually, when I met with Mr. Baldwin, it was at his home or some neutral location like a restaurant if he was at work. A few times, however, he asked me to meet him at his office. I was to still dress provocatively when I did this. A few people might have had a vague familiarity of who I was but not many. Even so, in a business setting like that, I drew attention, though I told myself nobody would really know why I was there and why I had access to the Executive Suite of offices. Sarah, though, never failed to look me up and down, smile, and give me an approving nod as I walked past her desk to knock on Mr. Baldwin’s office door. I got the sense that Sarah had a better sense… even understanding… of why I would spend time in his office privately.
It was about the two-month time frame that I understood that Sarah knew. It would be much, much longer before I understood her role in how everything came to happen to me.
Mr. Baldwin was out of town on business. Not a rare occurrence by any means. In the middle of a morning in the workweek, Mr. Baldwin called me. This was rare, though. Knowing he was out of town for work it was a surprise to see the caller ID on the screen, Sir. He was just checking up on me, he said. I flushed. I always do with his appreciative attention. He asked if I was using one of the toys at the moment. I blushed. The presumption of sexual stimulation and openness of discussion was always upfront with both Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin. I knew, from experience, my pussy would have increased lubrication if it hadn’t been for the vibrating egg inside me that already had me highly stimulated. I told him about the egg inside me and he had me describe the feelings. My free hand went to my erect nipples as I talked to him, trying to hold off an orgasm that quickly built in me from the eroticism of describing the sensations as much as the actual sensations. They didn’t have to be with me to send thrills pulsing through my body.
I had long since dropped the duster I had been using and was leaning against the back of the sofa, one hand holding the phone to my ear, the other moving from nipple to clit and pussy where I could feel the buzz of vibration inside me. I was gasping, fighting to maintain some control to verbally respond to him. He continued to tease me, to prod me, as I was sure he could tell how aroused I was by my responses, the quivering of my voice, the hesitations, the way words and sentences were interrupted by gasps and soft moans.
Then, he did it… “Karen… are you my obedient submissive?”
“Oh… God, yes… sir…”
“COME NOW.”
I should have been sitting down. I should have had the foresight but he doesn’t always do this to me in this way. Not when he was out of town. Usually, this is when he wants to see me, to build up my need. Peculiarly, these orgasms don’t siphon off arousal tension as might be expected but the verbal aspect of them seems to add fuel to the fire burning inside. My legs became weak as the orgasm I was holding off crashed over me. I cried out with unintelligible words and sounds, moans and groans, and panting for breath. I dropped the phone as both hands clutched at my quaking body and I sank down the back of the sofa to the carpeted floor. It was a full minute or so later that I heard his voice. At first confused (I was alone), I remembered the phone. It had bounced off the carpet under the sofa. I squirmed to grab it, each movement of my lower body highlighting the movement of the egg still vibrating in my pussy.
“Sorry, sir… I…”
“You did well, Karen. I could hear. You have always made me happy, dear.”
Spent, the orgasm subsiding but the buzzing continuing inside my pussy, I remain on the floor, my legs splayed and my free fingers gently playing over my drooling pussy. A tired smile of satisfaction forms on my face. Physical satisfaction, sure, but also the satisfaction of having pleased him.
“Karen, there is something I want you to do.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He knows I am ready for anything. “Sarah has been very helpful, hasn’t she?” Yes. “Have you benefited from the sessions she has led you through at the office?” Yes. “Do the headphones she maintains variety continue to help?” Yes. “You’ve thanked me in many ways, haven’t you?” Yes, of course. “Shouldn’t you do something for Sarah, too?” I pause. I respond, Yes, because it makes sense that I do something. But… “I know she would be pleased. You like Sarah, don’t you?” Yes, of course. She’s wonderful, so helpful, so caring. “Call her then, Karen. Tell her you to want to meet with her.” Yes, sir, but… “I want you to serve and please her.” Those words. Serve and please… “You understand, Karen?” Yes, sir. Of course. “It will make both Sarah and me happy, Karen.” Of course, sir. “Karen… you can use the empty office.” That warm feeling flooded over and through my body.
As I enter the main doors of the office building, the receptionist gives me a big smile and welcomes me by name. I don’t sign in or show my driver’s license as identification. She checks the clock for the time and signs me into her register by the time I reach her curved desk. She holds out an Executive Suite pass with a smile. A lot has changed in these few months since I first came to this building as the shy, reserved, wife of a lowly welder being sent on assignment to India for two years. That is not the thought that goes through my mind, though. In fact, that thought hasn’t surfaced since the first couple of weeks. As I moved with familiarity to the elevators to take me to the fifth floor Executive Suite offices, my thoughts are focused on the coming opportunity to please Mr. Baldwin with my service. This time it is different, however, as he is not the one I am intent on pleasing, at least not personally. I feel a shiver of anticipation as the elevator begins its rise. My body is responding already to what I am intent on doing. This is different, though. I won’t be in Mr. Baldwin’s office to suck his cock or be fucked by it in one of many positions he has used there. No… this time I will need to seduce Sarah to thank her the way Mr. Baldwin wants me to. I press my thighs together and know my thong is soaked. My fingers are drumming an unknown beat in anticipation. Since being instructed, I have focused in my mind on her in a different way. I have always appreciated and respected and relied on Sarah for all she has assisted me with. All the times in the office at the computer, the headphones, the financial assistance bonuses, gym membership… everything has flowed through Sarah. She was the smiling, reassuring face of the company that provided so much support.
Then, everything shifted to Mr. Baldwin. That Friday afternoon when everything changed and Mr. Baldwin became my singular focus. Then, that same weekend when Mrs. Baldwin was included. The company… and Sarah… retreated. It and she were still there but in the background of my attention. Now, Mr. Baldwin has thrust Sarah to the front, again.
As I used the pass card to allow me to open the large, heavy wooden doors, Sarah looked up from her station and gave me a huge smile. She nearly jumped up from her chair behind her desk to come around the side to me with her arms open for our familiar hug. As usual, the other offices were quiet. The Executive VP’s were either out or busy behind closed doors. I rarely interacted with them on my visits.
Sarah Thomas was a strong, assertive woman. I always supposed it was an attribute for handling the dominant male personalities she worked with. My eyes focused on her in a new light as she approached to take me into her arms. She was a few years younger, 35 years old, her body was soft and a bit overweight but not surprisingly so for someone who spent long days sitting behind a desk and a husband at home she doted over. She was an inch taller than me barefoot but I was taller in the high heels I always wore now. Her makeup was office-appropriate and her shoulder-length hair very stylish. Her dresses are to her knees and closed at the neck. If she wore a necklace, it was close to her neck. Her earrings were generally studs. She was dressed exactly that way… predictable, comfortable, professional.
After the hug, she stepped back but continued to hold my hands in hers. She was looking at me and her eyes traveled from my eyes to my feet. I didn’t even have to think about my dressing, anymore. My old clothes were pushed to the back of the closet. What I wore was always what would please Mr. Baldwin, even if I wouldn’t be seeing him. The specific outfits would depend on if I was seeing him or not. If not, my outfit was provocative but subdued. If I was seeing him, it would depend on the occasion or reason. Sometimes it required me to look downright slutty. Other times I am erotic and provocative intent on teasing and exhibitionistic temptation. I am dressed now subdued but still provocatively. The bodice plunges to show the insides of my breasts, barely covering the lace of my bra. The skirt is mid-thigh. The entire dress is molded to my body. My heels are spikes and 4 1/2 inches with straps. When I sit, I have to be careful or the lace tops of the thigh-high stockings might show. My knees have to be tightly together or the lace thong could be peeking out. I always giggle inside when I see someone’s eyes recognizing what they see when I relax too much. It is not a dress most 39 year-olds would be comfortable in. I don’t think about it, anymore. Not unless someone draws my attention to it. As Sarah now does.
“God, girl… you are stunning!” She makes no reference or comparison to the past. It is just a compliment… and, yes, I blush. I blush a lot. When someone compliments me like now when I catch someone ogling me, when I catch my image in a darkened window along a street, or when I catch a waiter hovering over my shoulder or someone shifting their location to gaze at my legs when I am sitting. I blush a lot. Mr. Baldwin loves it.
I am the one who asked to meet with her. It was at Mr. Baldwin’s direction, yes, but it was initiation with Sarah so I am under the assumption she has no prepared agenda. She motions to the extra office, which is where we had privacy in the past. Inside the office, as she is closing the door, I drop my small purse on the empty desktop, and turn, stepping up to her. She looks slightly startled by the sudden move that puts us physically close, certainly inside customary personal space. She gives me a slightly nervous and inquisitive expression. I’ve changed in the several months she has known me. I can act directly with others when I was a reserved wall-flower before. My change is only the result of following the lead from someone else, which she knows, so her expression quickly softens with the understanding that I probably was directed to some behavior.
“Sarah… I… I want to thank you.” The words come out in a stammer but I hold her eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin give me directions to practice interactions with others. If our time together isn’t purely sexual release, there is some agenda, some purpose for me to learn. Her eyes are fixed on mine as I lean forward to bring our faces even closer together. I now whisper, “You’ve done so much… given so much… been so caring ever since… since… I want to thank you, Sarah.”
I close the remaining gap between our faces, my lips lightly brushing against hers. I hear her sigh. I pull back an inch, maybe less. “I want to thank you especially, Sarah. We all have needs, physical needs, soulful needs. I’ve learned that. Your caring and attention have helped even if you didn’t know it.” Her eyes had fluttered closed as the tension built between us but they come open quickly with those words. Little did I know how much she knew.
When I closed that inch or less again it was to plant a kiss on her lips. She sighed, again. I pulled back to consider her reaction. Seduction. I was seducing someone else? It didn’t seem possible to me. I watch her tongue poke out between her lips and lightly move over her upper lip. Our eyes meet, again, before she moves into me, this time not only closing the space between our lips but our bodies, also. Though she moved to me in acceptance, I press against her with more urgency. We take an awkward step before pressing against the closed door. The kiss continues and transforms into a mutual expression of mutual desire.
One hand moves behind her head to press my kiss firmer and more passionately. The other hand moves to her hip to press my desire and intent. She responds with her own hands moving behind my neck and upper back. Her legs part as my thigh pressed against her. She breaks the kiss to hold me tightly as she moans and shivers her response, her groin pressing against my firmly pressed thigh between her legs. She is hugging me tightly, her face buried in my neck. My hand on her hip moves to her butt and we press even more firmly together. I feel her shiver within our embrace as she presses her groin harder against my thigh.
I whisper in her ear, our faces lost in each other’s hair. “I want to thank you… I want to please you.” She shivers and moans, again. I pull my face back to look into her eyes and press my intention. Her eyes are searching mine, my face, my mouth. Her lips open. They move, forming a word, a word I can read, but no sound follows behind the movement. “Can I please you?” In a desperate response, her head begins nodding enthusiastically. I press her even more urgently into the door with another kiss that becomes ever more passionate and consuming. The hand at her butt slides up her side to firmly grasp her breast through her dress and bra. She moans, again, and our tongues come together with open mouths.
I pull back and turn her away from the door. I turn the little nob in the handle to lock the door. She is watching intently. Her breathing is heavy, her mouth open as she takes in large breaths, her breasts rising and falling with them. I quickly look her over as she hesitantly steps backward as I step toward her. I assess my options. Mrs. Baldwin and I would strip each other in a flurry of discarded clothes. That probably shouldn’t be my approach in the office. Her dress is conservatively covering her with a zipper in the back making it impossible to get to her breasts without essentially undressing her. I smile, mostly to myself but I know it shows on my face. Look at me… the aggressor… but only because I have been directed to be so and I do as I am directed.
With my hands on her upper arms, I continue to step forward and she continues to retreat back. Her eyes are on mine, glued there, possibly stunned by the change in me. She knows what I was like at the beginning. I know only what I feel and what I am feeling is that desirous need to satisfy Mr. Baldwin’s direction for me.
She bumps into the end of the bare desk. She glances back. There is nowhere to go but I continue to press forward, closing any space between us. She sits on the desktop and leans back as I lean forward over her. Her hands behind her to brace her, I use one hand behind her head as I lean in to kiss her, again. I pull back only inches and search deep into her grey eyes while mine reflect the desire and lust that is coursing through my body. She moans as I take her mouth with mine in full assault, lips mashed together and open, tongues coming into play. My free hand finds her full hip but only fleetingly as I move it deliberately up her side and to the front to boldly take her breast in aggressive fondling. Her groan is deep and her breathing is labored, gasping.
I suddenly release her from my hands and mouth. The look on her face, in her eyes, is satisfying. She is showing a look of wanting, beseeching, of emptiness and frustration. My hands slide down her dress to her knees which I lift up. She uses her hands to raise herself and slide further onto the desktop. Her eyes are fixed on mine even as my hands begin pushing her dress up her thighs, even as she groans as she voluntarily lifts her hips so I can push her dress up and over them. I lean forward to kiss her as my hands caress her pantyhose encased thighs. My hands move as we kiss. One of her hands continues to brace herself as I press into her gently, the other moves to the side of my head, her fingers entwined in my long hair, her mouth pressing with equal effect into mine.
She gasps into my mouth, “Oh, God…” My fingers are taking hold of the elastic waist of her pantyhose.
I pause at the sound. I break the kiss but don’t pull my mouth away. Our lips still in contact, my words come almost slurred, “I want to pleasure you, Sarah. I want to thank you.”
She presses her mouth against mine even as she tries to respond. Her reply is more mumbled, more jumbled, more slurred than mine was making it unrecognizable but it is still obvious. She wants this. She drops the hand at my head to the desktop and with both hands to support her, she raises her hips off the surface. I smile as we kiss, as we mash our lips and mouths together. My slurred declaration could be unintelligible except for the heavy groan it elicits. “I want to taste you, Sarah.”
She quietly mumbles something as she collapses back to the surface as I break the kiss and put my focus on pulling her pantyhose and panties over her raised hips. Her dress bunched at her waist, I am pulling her pantyhose and panties down her thighs, past her knees, and leave them bundled at her ankles. I dip underneath her feet and rise between her legs, pressing her knees apart while raising them. Her exposed pussy is sparsely covered in downy fur of pubic hair. I notice a glistening along the inside of her pussy lips. It excites me and encourages me to see her excitement. My lips touch her pussy lips. I kiss them. I move higher to kiss her clitoral hood and flick it with my tongue. I retreat back down her pussy, kissing it repeatedly, then licking back up along her lips to her clit. I lap at her with my tongue repeatedly, then stiffen the tip and probe between the lips causing her lips to part as I move up until I surround her now aroused clit with my lips and suck gently.
She is moaning and gasping. Her legs sag and I push them back up and press them toward her upper body. I tell her to hold them back and spread. My voice is firm, unquestionable. If it surprises Sarah, there is no indication of it. I have taken control of the situation but it doesn’t surprise me, either. It seems I have only been responding to the direction of Mr. and/or Mrs. Baldwin for months and have been lost in that willing desire to obediently respond. Taking command here, now, isn’t a change from that. It is only the means employed to satisfy the direction Mr. Baldwin gave me.
With Sarah’s hands and arms locked under her knees and splayed apart, my own hands are freed to assist my mouth and tongue. I use fingers of both hands to open her pussy lips. Her juicy inner folds are laid open to my gaze and mouth. I suck at her hole, lick up to her clit, then suck vigorously at it, drawing it out as the throbbing, engorged sex organ it is. I have learned that the clit seems to have no other purpose but for stimulation but the intensity of that stimulation must be modulated so it remains positive. I release the rigid nub after a moment of focused attention and return to press my tongue abruptly into her hole. I hear her gasping. I feel her body shiver. I slip a finger into her hole alongside my tongue and a long moan seems to fill the small office. I slip another finger inside, moving my mouth to her clit, again. I hear her muttering, just sounds unintelligible, then, “Oh, God… Oh, God…”
Her hips are rising up and falling down to the surface. I only hear muffled sounds. I quickly pull away and look up. She has released one knee and is holding her hand over her mouth. Her breaths are coming in ragged gasps. As I watch, I shove three fingers into her oozing pussy. She gasps and groans. I curl the middle finger and probe to the inside tip of her pussy as my mouth returns to the clit. She jerks sharply as my finger finds her g-spot at the same time my lips encase her throbbing clit and my teeth rake across it.
In the next moment, she explodes in orgasm. She releases both knees and her legs sag to my shoulders, her hands clasping over her mouth as she cries out but only a muffled sound escapes. My mouth clamps onto her hole and I suck at her orgasmic juices.
When I retreat from under her limp legs, she has collapsed. Her breathing is heavy and the room is filled with only that sound. She lays exposed and spent. Her dress bunched at her waist, her pantyhose and panties binding her ankles together, her pussy and inner thighs glistening from her release and the attention from my mouth. I move to the front of the desk and lean down to kiss her on the lips. I can see her struggling to open and focus her eyes. A weak smile forms over her mouth as she continues to gather herself and return control of her breathing.
Then, “My, God… Karen… how did you learn that?”
How? How, indeed. If she only knew what I have experienced at the hands… mouths, tongues, fingers, and toys… of Mrs. Baldwin and her friends!
In the next month or so, Sarah has become another person I spend erotic time with at Mr. Baldwin’s direction. We are careful to arrange it when the Vice Presidents are traveling or in meetings. When I walk past her now when called to Mr. Baldwin’s office, she has a knowing smile for me which draws a smile from me in return. But it is after that month that everything changes dramatically for me, again.
* * * *
“What do you mean you have a personnel problem you don’t know what to do with? We’ve got channels, Harrelson. Why are you coming directly to me when you could be going through HR?” James Baldwin was exasperated. It had already been one of those days that could have gone a lot better than it was. He decided to work late to try to salvage something good from the day. Some days were just like that. He knew that and was not surprised when they happened. You couldn’t sit on top of a vast enterprise like Trinity and not have some of those days. He had just gotten off the phone with Abby to let her know but to be ready when he got home and he would take her out to her favorite restaurant to make up for it. Harrelson’s call came in almost as soon as the handset hit the cradle. Harrelson was the project leader in India.
“Sorry, boss. I wasn’t sure HR could really do much but there could be… ramifications.”
Harrelson was good. He had proven himself over many projects and it was why he was in India to get the new facility there up and running. “Okay… sorry, Bill. It’s been one of those days. Apparently, I’m not the only one to have one. What the hell time is it there, anyway?”
There was a chuckle. “Damn early. I stewed all night. Took a chance you might still be in the office. I have a situation brewing. Several, actually. A few of the guys have taken up with locals. We’ve reviewed and reinforced the training on culture and customs here. We’ve reinforced that this area isn’t Mumbai and even Mumbai is starkly different from our customs regarding men and women.” He closed his eyes. He could feel the headache creeping in. He waited for the shoe to drop, know when it hit it probably was more than one gentle thud but something impactful. The last thing they needed was for the new facility to have a negative impression in the local region where they needed to draw workers from.
“What damage?”
Harrelson came back, “Not that much, actually. Locally, that is. They guys agreed to pull back with more caution and care. Caught it in time… except for one. And, you’ll never guess who.” That’s for sure, he thought. Why would he remember any of them? Not that he would verbalize that, of course. He waited, again. “The married guy, Samson.”
Baldwin sat up straight in his chair. The fatigue of the day was instantly gone. “Gerald Samson?”
“There’s only one, boss.” He swore to himself, a long line of words he hadn’t verbalized in years… and held in now. It created another period of silence Harrelson felt compelled to fill. “She’s pregnant.” FUCK. Did that just come out? He was sure it had. Harrelson was too quiet. “But… on the plus side, at least for the company and the plant, he wants to marry her.”
“What!? He’s fucking married! I don’t believe this… what does he think he’s going to do with…” he almost said Karen with far too much familiarity “… his wife here?”
“We’ve been counseling him and it came to a head last night… your early morning. He’s serious. You know how reserved and awkward he is… maybe you don’t… sure, why would you.” Yeah, I know, but can’t say that, either. “Anyway, something clicked in him here with the Indians. He never come across as brusque and arrogant. That personality seems to work with the locals. They seem to relate to him. He’s a different person with them. He wants to stay. He’s put in the paperwork for a permanent transfer. He wants to stay here, marry this woman, and start over.”
“And?”
“He says he needs time off to return to the States to take care of the legal stuff.”
He sighed, “Simple as that… take care of the legal stuff.” His mind was in a whirl. He had seen what was in Karen and could draw it out, have some fun, show her what they had been missing, give her something to apply to her husband when he returned when he would ‘reprogram’ her attention to her Gerald. That had been his plan. Now… his mind quickly worked on it and he actually smiled for the first time in hours. “Okay… listen, Bill, remind the idiot that he has a wife here he left to wait for him, a wife who agreed to patiently wait for two years… to wait for him. Remind him what that is likely to do to her. If he is going to do this, he needs to think of her and do it quickly and as painlessly as possible for her.” He paused as his mind continued to work. “What an idiot. He never understood what he had in her…”
“What was that last part, boss? You were kind of quiet.”
Damn, did that actually come out?
* * * *
The doorbell chimed. I didn’t hear it the first two times with the headphones on. I ran from the kitchen to the door, threw open the entry closet for the robe hanging there and cinched it around my naked body, took a deep, calming breathing, and opened the door. It was a delivery man with a large envelope requiring a delivery signature. I thanked him confused about why I would be getting such an envelope. As I walked with it back to the kitchen where I had been chopping pepper, green onion, garlic, and ginger for a new recipe I was trying, I studied the envelope. It had a return label from Swanson, Davis, and Garner, Attorneys.
I dropped it on the kitchen table and stood over it. It was addressed to me. What would attorneys be sending me? Looking down at the table, I noticed I was still wrapped in the robe. Before turning to the counter for the paring knife I was using for chopping, I pulled the tie and shrugged out of the robe. By now I felt so much more comfortable when naked. I slit open the envelope and pulled out papers clipped together.
I skimmed the cover letter on top in total disbelief. I was frozen in place. Divorce notice?
I didn’t know how long I was standing there with the letter in my shaking hands, not reading, just staring. My cellphone on the counter snapped me out of it. It was a number I didn’t recognize but answered numbly.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Samson? Mrs. Karen Samson?” Yes. “Mrs. Samson, this is Teresa Warner. Did you receive a certified mailing recently?” Just now. “Okay. Mrs. Samson, I am sorry you find yourself in this situation but I have been retained to represent you. I cannot make this situation hurt any less but I can help you.” I… don’t understand. “This is very sudden, I know. But, please, I would like you to come to my office tomorrow morning and we can talk. I will try to explain what is happening and what we can do. Can you do that? Meet me here tomorrow?” I… I guess so. You say you’ve been retained to help me? “Yes. My fees are covered. I will text you my office address. Now… I want to give you two rules to follow starting now, okay? One: you will be referred to as only ‘Mrs. Samson’ until this is over. We want everyone to remember you are the aggrieved wife. Two: you will only wear conservative clothes. That means skirts to the knees, pants, sleeve tops, buttoned to the neck.” Why? “Mrs. Samson, divorce attorneys can be very nasty. You should assume someone is watching and waiting for you to make a mistake and photograph it. They would love to imply anything to strengthen their case.”
The call was ended. I waited for the text and used a map app to locate the office downtown. Once I did that, I took a deep breath. Think. Damn. Why? That’s so unlike Gerald. Conservative. Double damn. Naked feels so good. Provocative is so exciting. I slip the robe back on. Mr. Baldwin. Of course. Who else could have known and do something like this for me?
I pull his contact up on the phone and press the call button.
“Karen?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Baldwin, did you… do you know a Teresa Warner?”
“She contacted you. Good. Yes, dear, she’s our personal attorney. She’s good, very good.” He chuckled, which I thought was odd, but then he continued. “I’ve heard some opposing attorneys have even referred to her as ‘that fucking Warner’. You’re in good hands, dear.”
“Thank you, sir. I don’t know… I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Abby and I aren’t going to let anything happen to you, dear.”
“I’ll repay you somehow, Mr. Baldwin. I promise.”
“You’ll do no such thing. This is what we want to do. You’re important to us, Karen.”
I felt that warm feeling flood over me, again. “Thank you, sir. But I will find a way to thank you two.” I paused. He must have sensed more because he didn’t say anything. “Sir, she… Ms. Warner… she said I should dress conservatively and be careful.”
“You need to do everything she says. Karen, I want you to do everything she says for me.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“I’ve told Ms. Warner to get this expedited. Whatever it takes. I’ve also instructed her to be the bitch I know she can be when she needs to. You’ll be okay, Karen.” This time he paused and I waited. “Are you still using the headphones Sarah gave you?” I assured him I was. “Good, they might be very helpful during this time.”
They certainly have made a difference so far. I saw no reason to stop now. Of course, I will need to move my clothes around in the closet, again. Hopefully, Mr. Baldwin will be right and this will get resolved quickly. I wonder what got into Gerald? Just when my life was getting interesting….