I Should Have Listened to my Mother

I had completely forgotten that it was the one (of two) day a month my cleaning lady comes in. When I walked in the front door at home, I was thinking about the previous night and remembering that I had some things to tidy up...I open the door and saw the beautifully cleaned living room, that Lysol mopping smell. . . I did that gasping and holding my hand over my mouth thing...only I wasn't laughing. I slowly opened my bedroom door and the room was immaculate. Bed made, tables dusted, throw-pillows all arranged nice and pretty...3 dildos nicely cleaned and folded in a freshly washed towel..."OH MY FUCKING God!" I about fainted from embarrassment! Silvia has been cleaning my house for probably 5 years now. NEVER before has something like this happened. I've ALWAYS tidied up after nights like that as soon as I caught my breath...

Silvia NOR I have ever said a word about it. The very first time I saw her after this happened I was just completely embarrassed, but she, being the professional she is, made me feel completely at easy and never hinted at the incident.

Can I get a Witness?

And you have a witness do you? Well, here's the thing about witnesses: Most are usually unreliable. Not for 'what they saw', but rather what they think they saw. Unless the person is a truly keen observer of people, I can usually destroy their testimony. Most good attorneys can. I'm not interested in what they saw; I'm interested in why they saw it. What they were doing when they witnessed what ever it is that they witnessed. What they were thinking about, what time of day was it? Questions like that leading up to questioning like this:

"Now, please if you will, turn your head to the direction of the jury. Perfect. Now shut your eyes tight. Good. Now, Mr. Smith: what color tie is the judge wearing? What color blouse am I wearing? What color is the fabric of the chair you are sitting in? And usually, depending on how they answered the questions, I can turn them into unreliable worthless pieces of crap. Hey, it's part of my job, it's what I do.

Noticed I said "most". That kind of questioning is unheard of for a cop you have on the stand. OR a fellow attorney. I think I told you earlier that I've been trained in the techniques of human body language and it's relevance in deception. Most cops that I know have had the same training and depending on what their job is, have had even more training. (Have you seen the TV series "Lie To Me"? You'd be surprised at how accurate a lot of what's told on there is. But . . . you put a person like me on the stand as a witness; my testimony will be solid as a rock. I shall demonstrate with the following story. A completely true and accurate accounting of what I witnessed on the 4^th of July, 2005.

It was a standard American backyard barbeque celebration. It was at one of the managing partner's house, and no expense was spared. Not super elaborate at all. Lots of bbq, beer, music, swimming, laughing and when sundown came, there were fireworks from the park about a quarter of a mile away. A truly fun party. Lot's of co-workers and their families and friends. Lots of drunks. For those who enjoyed a little pot, there was a section of the pool house that was set up for that.

After the fireworks, people started heading out. Soon only adults were there. Somebody brought up "poker" and it was on. An impromptu Texas Hold Em' tournament started. It began with 3 tables full of players and their chips. It ended 2 hours later with one winner take all and a second tournament began. Not everybody was playing poker. Some were still swimming in the magnificent pool, some were sitting around a table drinking and telling lawyer stories...some were hidden away doing nasty things. . .

I went "all in" and lost. I was done. Another hundred bucks down. No big deal, we were having a blast. (I had come to the party 'stag' – no date) I was out and I was happy. I HAD to PEE something fierce! I left the table and went to the pool room to use the bathroom. It was occupied. I went to the one inside the main house. It was taken. The third one had no toilet paper. I was dying now. About to burst! I asked a woman I didn't know who I found in the kitchen if she knew where another bathroom might be and she gave me directions. I went down a short flight of stairs and turned left when I should have turned right. I saw the door and rushed into the bathroom. Only it wasn't the bathroom. It was the laundry room. I reached in where the light switch would normally be and sure enough the light lit up the small room sure as you please. That's when I realized it was the laundry room.

The latch on this particular door was sloppy and didn't do a good job at all in latching. If you were inside and shut the door and locked it; you'd better give it a tug before you assume it's secured. It was locked, but unfortunately it was NOT secured. One push from me and the door flew open.

Inside I saw a married co-worker and fellow attorney Robert Shaw and his wife Rita. They'd been married 10 years and have two children. Both these little ones, I later found out, were out cold on the sofa in the rec-room directly outside the laundry room. Robert (he hates "Bob") and Rita are fine church going Christians. They don't drink or smoke and look down their noses at those who do. It's not that I don't like Robert and Rita; it's that they're just not my sort of people. Not somebody I'd be friends with. We're always friendly and cordial at work and pretty much never socialize. But we were at this party together. And Robert and Rita had stolen away for some nasty time late at night when they thought nobody would catch them. Well, Jackie Fox caught them. (I'll tell you one more really interesting thing about Robert in a second)

Here is what I witnessed that night: There was a Jasmine Gold Canyon Candle burning on the shelf above the head of Robert Shaw. He was sitting completely nude on the top of an avocado colored Kenmore washer (same model as mine). His legs were being held very high and very wide by another man who was slowly fucking him in the ass! Yes, Robert and Rita had snuck off with a third person. Who was this third person? I have no idea. I saw him earlier in the evening in his swim suit and notice his stunning body. A very tall and handsome man with rather long black hair. Fourty-ish. Clean shaven and very chiseled masculine features. About a 4 days growth of beard. I never talked to him. I assumed he was here with another woman I saw him talking with. He seemed a warm and intriguing fellow. I remember thinking "I'd fuck him." I never did once talk to him or see him even look my way. Further more, I never talked to anybody about him. To me, he was a complete mystery.

Rita. Where was Rita? She was sitting on a white cheap bar stool from the set in the adjoining rec-room. It was pulled up close next to the two men and she was completely nude (as well as Mr. Mystery). Her legs were wide open and with one hand she was feverishly masturbating and with her other she was squeezing the hell out of Mr. Mystery's left butt cheek. (A magnificent butt this mystery man had I might add!) There was a large jar of Vaseline Petroleum Jelly sitting on the top of the dryer. Its lid was off and laying next to it. Roberts's lips, chin and neck were wet and shiny and appeared to have a gooey substance on them. Mr. Mystery was standing on some sort of makeshift platform of some sort. All I noticed was it was un-painted and made of plywood and about six inches high.

"I am SO SORRY! I thought this was a bathroom, carry on!" and I clicked off the light and shut the door. Behind me about 15 feet was the door I'd been looking for. I rushed to it and once again burst in and turned on the light. It was indeed the bathroom. I sat and did my business and started uncontrollably laughing. Not the out loud kind, but the silent, shaking all over, squeezing your eyes shut and crying laughing. How embarrassing!? Oh my GOD! And I am thinking to myself <first thoughts mind you> "I own that hypocritical son-of-a-bitch now!" (Second thoughts) "No. 'Show some class' as mother would have told me. Put yourself in their position, would you want people knowing a secret like that about you?!"

Here's that other thing I wanted to tell you about Robert Shaw. In the 8 years I have know him I have heard him talking shit about homosexuals on numerous occasions! I mean really talking shit! Hypocritical? Oh hell yes! His friends would dis-own him in a New York second if they ever found out about something like this! "Why would you EVER want to do something like that to someone Jessie" I heard in my head. "Keep your mouth shut, you didn't see anything!" I told myself. I agreed with that and had decided I would keep quiet. I half expected a knock on the door while I was peeing. One of them making some sort of plea or something. Didn't happen.

When I exited the bathroom I saw their two children still out cold, asleep on the sofa. The door to the laundry room was still shut. I crept over and leaned forward to listen. Robert was still getting fucked. I turned and left. I went and rejoined the poker game as a spectator. Lots of loud merry making at the patio table converted to poker table. The reality of it was that I was really watching the house and kitchen area. That's where the Shaw's would be exiting once they finished with their kinky deeds. All sorts of mean thoughts poured through my head. That demon and angel on my shoulders kind of stuff. My two invisible characters came to an agreement. I COULD NOT resist.

Almost thirty minutes had passed. "Here they come!" I told myself, standing around the table with my friends. Both men were carrying a child. Rita was carrying a diaper bag and her purse and was fumbling for her keys in it as they walked to the gate to leave. The hosts had been in the kitchen as they prepared to depart. I watched as they kissed and hugged their goodbyes. Mr. Mystery appeared to be leaving with them. I nudged my friend to my left and asked "Who's that hunk-a-lisous man with the Shaw's?"

"His name is Bill, or Bob, something like that. I think he's a friend of Roberts from college. He's visiting. Did you hit on him?! He is a hottie! I'd fuck him!" she replied.

"No, I didn't hit on him. I didn't even talk to him. Stood by him during the fireworks but he didn't even look my way. Must not be his type." I said and almost burst our laughing.

"Seriously though, what's his name?!" I asked again and took a sip of my beer. They were about to walk out.

"I don't know...Bill, or Bob...something like that!" she repeated. As the five of them walked down the path to the gate I called out "Good night Robert and Rita! Good night Bill or Bob or whatever your name is!"

Mr. Mystery turned and called back "It's Phil! Good night Jessie Fox! It was fun meeting you! We'll talk next time, huh!?" Robert was standing there holding his daughter and looking like he was about to faint, waiting for a bombshell to be called out. Bombshell never happened. I just wanted to make Robert squirm.

"OK! Next time! We'll talk! . . . Can't wait!" I called out. The Shaw's and Phil walked out the gate, loaded their kids up and left. Robert was NOT walking funny. I checked. LMAO. As the gate latched shut I nudged my friend, "Bill or Bob?!?!" I asked.

She shrugged, laughed and said "Yeah, something common like that...PHIL!"

"You drunken idiot!" I said and nudged her again and she almost fell over.

What I witnessed took all of five seconds, tops. From door swinging open, to door swinging shut. That Visa commercial / ad comes to mind: "Fireworks show – Free. Booze – Free. Jar of Vaseline - $6 (but you had to buy that for your kid anyway!) Seeing your homo-phobic and very hypocritical co-working getting fucked in the ass by another man, with his mouth and chin covered in semen? – priceless!"

The very next work day (it was a Wednesday. The forth was on a Monday and we all took Tuesday off), first thing when I walked in I hear a beep on my intercom. It was my secretary. "Mr. Shaw would like to have a word with you in his office when you get a chance." She said.

"OK. Tell him to give me 10 minutes and I'll be with him." I answered. I put my brief case down on my desk and headed to the kitchen area for a cup of coffee. Robert's secretary told me to go on in, and there at his desk was Mr. Shaw. All professionally dressed and looking handsome. He smiled and invited me to have a seat.

"Good morning Jessie, thanks for meeting with me. This shouldn't take long." He said as he stared at his desk top, not making eye contact with me. He looked rather haggard. Like he didn't get much sleep the last couple of nights. Maybe he'd been crying (?)

"What you saw the other night . . . I just don't know what to say here. . ." and he sat there slowly shaking his head "no".

"Well, why don't you just sit there and say nothing and listen to me." I could see tears welling up in his eyes and his lip began to quiver.

"What I saw was a husband and wife having some kinky fun. Period. So-fuckin'-what? I'm pretty sure most couples get freaky now and then. I know me and my boyfriends sure have. I have no reason what so ever to embarrass you OR your wife. From what I know about you, you're a happily married man who's a great husband and father. You're always pleasant and seem to really love what you do for a living. The only flaw I see in you is when you talk shit about gays. Seems a little hypocritical now, you know, me seeing what I saw and all...." He was shaking his head "yes" now. His eyes were shut and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He was crying tears of relief.

"So, even if you don't stop talking shit about gays I'm STILL not going to say a single word about what I saw! It's just not any of my business what you and your wife get off on! OK?" and I stood up. (I had lots of work to get after). "Now stand up and give me a hug and get your ass back to work and stop bugging me, alright?!" We hugged and he thanked me profusely. We went our separate ways. I never spoke with him again. A little over a month later Robert and Rita Shaw and one of their children were killed by a drunk driver. Their other child survived the crash. When he recovered, Rita's sister took custody.

It was pretty fun telling that story. Right up to that last detail. God, does life just suck sometimes or what!?!? Can I get a witness!? . . .

Exceptional Sex too!

And he was 55 years old. I was 29. He was 26 when I was born. OK, that's kind of weird. I'm a very open person when it comes to sex; I'm up and agreeable to pretty much anything. But the age thing – men or women just kind of makes me creeped out somewhat. Although, it didn't have that effect on me when James walked into my office. Oh my God, he was just so handsome! I mean Sean Connery (in Hunt for Red October) handsome! (James didn't actually have a beard like Sean, I'm just sayin' – pretty much any normal woman my age would think this way about Mr. Connery's character in that movie!)

It was just another divorce case. A previous client of mine recommended me to him. James had caught his wife red handed cheating on him. His capture of her adultery happened 2 days after their 30th wedding anniversary. He had suspected something was up and hired a private investigator to find something out. The P.I. found something alright, and taped it through a partially open portion of drapery. Two minutes and thirty three seconds of his wife and her boyfriend having sex in a cheap motel.

James and I talked about his situation for quite some time. At one point he broke down crying. He was completely distraught. As I sat and listened and heard his anguish, I too began to cry. He began his crying shortly after he and I had watched the surveillance footage. When I began to cry I stood up and walked around my desk to give him a hug and to fetch us some tissues. Situations like this require some relief and James gave me an opening when he referred to his wife as "a common whore!" I corrected him with "Actually James, the correct legal term would be 'common slut!. She didn't charge him; she gave it away for free...common slut is the correct legal term." We both of us began that laughing crying thing and the tension was broken.

"I stand corrected councilor!" he quickly retorted with a chuckle in his crying snort.

We blew our noses, laughed a little bit, wiped our eyes and continued.

When James had confronted his wife with the tape a huge argument ensued. James said it was the closest he had ever come to striking a woman. She had said some horribly mean things to him. He began to tear up again, I adjourned our meeting. We set up another appointment for two days later and said our goodbyes and parted with a hug. He was a very sweet and charming man. (Did I mention how drop dead handsome he was?!)

That night, eating Chinese carry out alone in my kitchen, I pondered James's situation. He and his wife wanted a divorce. She wanted pretty much everything; he didn't want to give her Jack-Shit. He seemed like such a nice man. He owns and operates many very successful businesses, multi millionaire, provided a very nice lifestyle for his family.

Their two children were grown and living their own lives. He has 5 grandchildren. James swore to God that in all their time together he had never once cheated on his wife. I believed him. He told me that he and his wife's sex life was down to two or three times a year. And his wife, all I knew of her was from what James had told me and what I saw on the tape. Speaking of which; his wife (Lydia, 51, a very beautiful woman), was in the classic doggie position and thrashing about while her boyfriend was trying to penetrate her anally. You could tell by the faces she was making. (It was obvious!) Boyfriend finally penetrated and Lydia let out a deep groan and some indistinguishable words were spoken between the two and a nasty, smutty grin came to her face as her boyfriend began pumping her. Pointing angrily at the TV screen, James yells at me "That fucking slut hasn't let me ass fuck her since probably before you were born! (Excuse my language)"

"No need for me to excuse you James . . . don't worry about it, I've heard worse." I told him.

(Thanks for that image DAD! Jeeze!) Yeah, he was old enough to be my father. Here I was watching this man in his anguish thinking to myself "Yeah, I'd let him ass fuck me. . . ."

That night while thinking myself to sleep, I couldn't help thinking about how handsome James was. Rationed to sex two or three times a year turns some people into animals when they finally get to unleash their pent up passion. My fingers found their mark and soon my head was filled with my own nasty little video. "I might just have to do something about this come Thursday" I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

Our next meeting was right on schedule. 3pm Thursday afternoon. Our first meeting, James was wearing a suit, today was casual. A polo shirt and a pair of jeans. Immaculately groomed, he smelled as though he had just come from the barber. We hugged as he came into my office and kissed each other on the cheek. I invited him to sit and we began our second meeting. I poured us both a double scotch on the rocks and we sipped and talked. After two such drinks James really began to open up. I felt more like his shrink than his attorney.

I was listening intently and James started sounding like Charlie Browns dad. You know "Whaa whaa whaa, ahwah ahwah. . . ."