Temporary Boyfriend Ch. 09

Boston in the summer is a wonderful place to be. I was feeling full of love and gratitude as I jogged along the wide sidewalk on the Cambridge side of the Charles River I chuckled because the river was named in honor of King Charles I in 1614. The previous summer, the coronation of King Charles III had taken place. Different king and different era, yet neither king seemed to have been liked all that much.

I cut across the river by the Harvard Bridge, and started back on the Boston side. I completed the ten-mile run running seven-minute miles. Not bad.

Taylor and Charlotte both pointed for me to go immediately to the bathroom for a shower. I obeyed. Happy wife, happy life, and that applied doubly so with two wives. We weren't married, but we were acting like it, at least physically and romantically.

As part of our collective New Year's Resolutions, we decided that Monday and Thursday evenings, possibly including dinner, were our discussion nights. Our talks were to address some feature of our burgeoning threesome with the goal of drawing us closer together and adjusting expectations. We made a list of the many agenda items that we should talk about, wrote each on a slip of paper, folded each, and put them in a bowl. New ones could also be added, or even preemptively put on our agenda. We'd mix them up and one of us would draw the topics for the evening or even for the week or more, if it was a complex topic.

The first topic that we talked about started in the second week of January was family planning. That term was short-hand for how many kids, if any, and then about child rearing.

I'd had a generally absent or uncaring or unmotivated father, so I was swayed highly in the other direction. I not only wanted children, I wanted to be significantly involved in their rearing and steering. We talked about my own experiences, and then I heard how both Don and Faye had been involved in raising the twins.

The conclusion was that as a family we wanted up to four children -- possibly two each for Taylor and Charlotte. There was a lot of discussion about raising them in the rapidly down-turning climate and political environment. We also discussed the when to start a family, and decided that we'd do five years without kids and then change over to the other family model.

The family planning discussion led to talking about living quarters and even school systems. Each of us thought that we should move to the suburbs to a house to raise any children. That discussion suggested that we keep our eyes and ears open for any good real estate deals, initially without active searching.

The next topic of conversation was meatier for us: conflict resolution. As we started talking, I printed off three copies of the conflict resolution strategies matrix, so that led to us talking about the five possibilities: avoiding, accommodating, competing, collaborating, and compromising.

That discussion led the three of us to thinking styles. The three of us seemed to be balanced between problem-solving, critical-thinking, and creative-thinking skills. In terms of our relationship, I seemed more analytic and structured. This was interesting because Charlotte had to use those skills all day in her job. I had to be a little more creative in how to approach various aspects of my job. Taylor was in-between.

I liked to toss out possible scenarios for our contemplation, plus I could often have a wild imagination. We decided we each had to think up a conflict situation and present it one of the others for consideration. Our seating arrangement, meant that I had to give Charlotte a situation within the next twenty-four hours.

I thought up a story where the three of us were out dancing as we'd done on New Year's Eve, but she became enthralled with one of the young men that asked her to dance -- so much so, that she went off with him for the rest of the night. She had to think about how Taylor and I would think about that, and what we'd do.

Taylor gave me a situation where she was in a car accident when she was home visiting her parents. She wanted to see how her spouses -- Charlotte and I would handle that.

Charlotte gave Taylor the situation of a social party at work where she was expected to bring her 'significant other'. She wanted us to think about how we'd react to that situation. I actually knew that we'd be facing exactly that situation in about a month when my company would hold their summer barbecue for all staff and their families. I planned on bringing both of them; not even an issue in my head.

Our response to the latter situation was to talk to the host ahead of time for guidance. We could also opt to not go, or go as a full family. I would only go for the last option.

The car accident four-hundred miles from home provoked more creative responses. I was able to argue that I could be there for her, despite her parents' proximity, because so much of my work could be done remotely. That made me think about why I actually went into the office as much as I did. Hmmmmm.

Charlotte would have trouble being away from her new job, but would invoke the firm's family emergency policy, so that she could be away for an extended period of time.

My 'cheating' situation for Charlotte resulted in all of us vowing to not put ourselves in harm's way, first by not drinking so much that we made bad decisions. We also made a pledge of fidelity to each other that would limit our roaming to family only. None of us wanted to fracture the relationship we had with the other two.

I reminded the girls that I was more likely to be the one propositioned by one of my old fuck buddies. I asked to be taken into 'protective custody' if it looked like such a situation was emerging. I reminded them of Marcia's come-on at New Years.

The following week we didn't draw out of the hat, but we did talk about the traditional vows in a marriage, how to discipline children, coping with kiddie temper tantrums, birth control (Would I ever consider a vasectomy?), and career advancement.

The last part of that inspired me to go see Harrison the following Monday. Basically, I asked him what I could do to promote myself in the company and to earn more money. He seemed to know that I was serious about Taylor and even here sister. That was a surprise, but I was hardly surprised knowing the kind of stuff that our company did.

Harrison asked, "We can try you more regularly on some of our external data collection situations. If a few of those work out, I'm willing to split your time with what you're doing and the P.I. side of our business. You'll have to get licensed."

I accepted the deal. I checked on the qualifications for a private investigator license. I needed certification from three reputable citizens of the state who'd known me for over three years, and never been convicted of a felony. That was easy. I got letters from Harrison, Jay Stark -- my college friend and landlord, and Charlotte Reeves of Fidelity Investments on letterhead. I filed those with the state police with $100, and a month later I had my license.

I also signed up for twice-a-week martial arts training. I exercised and could run better than most people, but I had not been a fighter. Harrison volunteered that the company would pay for six months of my self-defence classes.

The classes were Tuesday evening and Saturday morning. After ten of them, I finally felt that I was making some progress. I wasn't spending as much time on the mats as I had to start with.

With my P.I. license in hand and a modicum of self-defence skills, Harrison assigned me to a simple surveillance case -- possible cheating wife, follow, take pictures, etc. His last admonishment to me was, "And stay out of trouble."

Surveillance mostly involved hours of being bored, yet trying to remain vigilant to catch thirty-seconds of possibly incriminating activities. My mark was named Carol. Eventually, I called her Careless Carol. She was probably cocksure that her husband had no clue she was stepping out on him, and was self-assured that no one would ever follow her. I also knew that a pre-nup was involved.

Follow her, I did; and I got really lucky. Carol drove from her house in Lexington, to another in Wilmington, Massachusetts. I'd tagged her car with a tracker, so I didn't even need to be right behind her as she drove -- a sure-fire way to get spotted. She was just getting out of her car when I drove past the house she was visiting. I had been ignored, so I parked and pulled out the telephoto camera. I got several shots as a guy about her age welcomed her into the house. They started a kiss just before the door closed all the way.

I kept the camera focused on the house, particularly the windows. My luck not only held, it became extraordinary. Five minutes later, I caught some motion in one of the upstairs windows. Carol stepped in front of the darkened window and she was naked. My pictures started clicking off at the rate of four per second, plus hi-res video was also being recorded. My big success was when the man -- also naked -- stepped up behind her and surrounded her body with his hands until he was holding her breasts as he nuzzled and kissed into her neck.

Carol turned and the pair crushed their nude bodies together in a passionate embrace. The pair then left the window, probably for the bed in the room. I gave them a few more minutes, but there no further sign of activity.

I made a slow walk past Carol's car and retrieved the tracker, and then drove back to the office. I established the identity of the man in the house quite easily from the license plate on the car in the driveway and as the owner of the house that Carol had entered.

I compiled a report detailing the surveillance and what I saw and photographed. Some of the pictures were attached after I printed them out. Of course, I indicated that I had other corroborating photos as well as related video that also showed the couple at the window.

Copies were made, and the next day at nine a.m., I met with Carol's husband -- or future ex-husband. He seemed pleased with our work. Harrison was there for the meeting. I walked the man through the report and he left. I can't say he was a happy man, but he was a satisfied man. His instincts had been proven accurate.

Harrison gave me another surveillance operation, this one trailing a possibly errant husband. I read through the dossier and then did my own research over the Internet. After some stealth research I had his credit cards and bank information, so I went there for the details that his wife apparently didn't have access to. I also got other photos of him beyond what had been in his folder.

Clive Livingston was well off, but if he cheated, he lost access to the source of his well-being -- his wife's money. He was a partner in a large law firm, and based on his American Express account, he entertained a lot, mostly lunches and dinners at some of Boston's nicer restaurants.

Clive's Visa account, however, contained routine charges at just about every mid-priced hotel in Boston. I mapped them out looking for a pattern and found one. He rotated through four of them. Wednesdays seemed to be his favorite time. I speculated that he'd be at the Onyx Hotel the next day.

One-hundred dollars well spent with the desk clerk, and she told me that he was a 'monthly regular' that checked in around mid-day for one night. I thanked her and left her my new business card. She knew what was going on and I had a new friend that appreciated the C-note.

I staked out the lobby the next morning starting about eleven a.m. I had my cellphone set for high-resolution photos and videos. I got lucky again. Clive and an unknown woman came into the registration area just after noon. I was taking photos and video, but not looking directly at the couple, or Clive as he registered and prepaid for the room. Despite the lack of significant luggage beyond briefcases, the couple disappeared in the elevator. I maintained my surveillance from a new seat into the afternoon, moving to where I could see the elevators better. I also put on a wind-breaker and baseball hat so that I looked somewhat different.

Around four o'clock, the elevators dinged, announcing their arrival on the ground floor. Every time that had happened, my camera was recording the opening of the doors. The afternoon was slow, and I counted. Forty-three down elevators later, Clive and the mystery lady appeared. My video as the elevator doors opened on their arrival proved that they were kissing in a romantic way.

Bingo!

I went back to the office, and off-loaded all the useful data on my phone. I particularly focused on the pictures that I could expand that showed a clear picture of the woman Clive had been with. It took me three tries with my artificial intelligence program and our data bases before I had my answer: Maria Dabbert Fleming, wife of Donald Fleming and mother of two. She resided in the town of Reading, didn't work but was a volunteer at the library and a thrift shop, and, significantly, she'd worked previously for the same law firm that Clive did.

The next day, I staked out Maria Fleming. She seemed to be a stay-at-home mom. She went out in late morning while her kids were in school. She met another woman in a coffee shop and they had chatted for a bit. I took pictures, just in case.

Eventually, the other woman left, leaving Fleming alone. I took a chance, and went over to her. "Excuse me, but aren't you Maria Fleming? I used to work at GBK and I kind of remember you from there."

She smiled up at me. "Yes, and you are. Sorry, I'm Jim Hendricks. I was an associate for a year there, but ... well, I decided I wanted a smaller firm. I did have a good experience while I was there, however. You were in the admin area, as I recall."

"Yes, I was in the finance and accounting area, mostly on the expense-tracking side."

I made the leap to see how she reacted, "Did you ever know Clive Livingston? He was really a good guy and gave me a few pointers while I was there. I don't remember too many other names."

She shuddered slightly, "Yes, I know Clive. He is a helpful person." I noted the use of the present tense.

"Do you see any of the people from there these days?"

"No. No. I'm a mom now and don't get into town all that much." She had become nervous in her lie.

I smiled and said, "Well, if you see any of them, hail them for me. I'm on my way out for now. Take care." I turned and strolled casually away from her table and out the door.

I left the shop slowly, and did observe her texting somebody. I would have bet it was old Clive.

I left the case for almost a week. I didn't see any likelihood of a further worthwhile event if my predictions were accurate. Harrison agreed, so I went back to vetting executives moving into senior positions. I did extend my work-up on Clive Livingston, too.

Wednesday morning, I was at the Hilton Hotel eager to see whether Clive would stick to his previous pattern of hotels. I had a modest disguise on, too; specifically, a long-hair wig, a metallic band t-shirt, and shredded blue jeans with sandals. I had a guitar that I'd borrowed, too.

I checked in with the desk clerk. This time $150 bought me not only confirmation that Clive would be checking in, but that his room would be 431. I called in reinforcements from my company, and for another $300 'honorarium' we got a quick look at the room that Clive would be assigned. Coincidently, a digital recorder capable of holding twenty-four hours of conversation happened to get planted underneath the center bedside table. We didn't have enough time to set up for video.

I sat and watched the elevator. I also arranged my cellphone so that I could shoot hi-res video across the top of my guitar as I feigned lightly stroking the strings.

Clive and Maria arrived at twelve-twenty. They were holding hands and looking horny as fuck. I followed the scene through their check-in, and into the elevator, where, damn, I got a glimpse of them kissing again. Neither one of them so much as glanced in my direction. The couple were in the room until four o'clock, when they left together. I was on the phone, it would appear, next to the soda vending machine.

I retrieved the digital recorder about ten minutes later, and then left for the office. I stayed late a few minutes to listen to some of the playback and backup the recording. Taylor came and listened, too.

The recording was incriminating. I asked Harrison whether we really needed more information for Mrs. Livingston to initiate whatever action she wanted to take. My assumption proved accurate. The recording and the few lovey-dovey pictures of the couple were all that she needed. I spent the rest of Thursday preparing the investigative report. Harrison and I met with the unhappy woman on Friday.

I'd put off introducing Charlotte and Taylor to my parents for no particular reason. As far as they knew, I'd had no change of status in my life. In their eyes I was still a free-wheeling bachelor enjoying a robust social life in Boston. Occasionally, in our infrequent calls, one would ask who my girl of week was.

I eventually explained about them to the twins. My parents were swingers and had been for their whole thirty-year marriage.

The twins took the news with prurient interest and wanted lots of details. I'd been in the dark until I came home unexpectedly from what was to have been an overnight and found a twenty-person fuck party going on at my home. I was fourteen.

I was too shocked to make a scene. There were naked people everywhere -- at that point, a group of people in their mid-to-late-thirties, some pretty hot. I went to my bedroom and jerked off about six times. I'd just caught-on about free Internet porn, so seeing live action was a big treat.

My parents consequently explained to me about their 'hobby' and 'social life' choices, and I just took it all in at face value. I had learned a new vocabulary about 'recreational sex' and love. Not once was there any hint of interaction with my parents that wasn't straight and traditional upbringing.

Taylor, Charlotte, and I flew to Florida to visit them over the long Memorial Day weekend. We were welcomed, the girls especially, since I'd already explained to Kate and Bill that I was in a 'serious relationship' with two sisters.

My father fell all over himself trying to wait on the girls and impress them. Despite being fifty or so, I think he had visions of bedding both of them. My mother watched with visible humor over his somewhat embarrassing and transparent actions.

The twins conspired to tease him without mercy. They each had a Wicked Weasel bathing suit that left nothing to the imagination. They wore those the first day around the pool. I was ready to sexually assault both of them myself. My father did everything short of drooling over them to keep them happy.

Mom wore her favorite bikini, and that did impress me that at her age she looked as good as she did. She had that all-over tan look, too; although we never saw anything inappropriate -- unlike the twins.

Mom bonded with Taylor and Charlotte and they had some long discussions, no doubt about me growing up. Our last day there, my mother pulled me aside and impressed upon me the need to take action to 'lock in the two best things that would ever happen in my life'.

I had been living within my means until I had to buy TWO engagement rings. Mass Jewelers had a generous financing program that allowed me to pay back part of the expenditure over the next two years.

The girls' birthday was June 21, the summer solstice. We flew out to Rochester to be with her parents for the event. They were turning twenty-eight.

A week before the birthdays, I'd had a surveillance operation that took me to Saratoga Springs, New York. Although it took a lot of driving in a rental car, after I'd collected my intelligence, I drove deep into the night so that I was waiting at Don and Kaye Reeve's home at seven a.m. I slept in the car in their driveway for a few hours.