Chapter 13

Dom

I had to give my wife to be credit. She had outdone herself. While I had managed to gather the evidence and have Satterly seized for felonies from which he couldn’t escape, she was the one who had truly and literally unclothed the residence of The Avalon. We’ll never know whether the resident on the sixty-ninth floor was in attendance. Not only did no one know what they looked like, but in a state of total undress, it became hard to keep track of who was with whom. I’d never seen anything like it in my entire life and surely it out did anything that took place, even at the club.

My wife-to-be was a creative and strategic genius. I was especially impressed when she escorted me into my own office later that morning and with the click of a button, the displays that banked my walls were filled with the images of copulating couples throughout the party scene. Anyone who was anyone now felt the golden guillotine of guilt hanging over their heads.

With the possible exception of Satterly, none of that data would be used, but word would spread that I possessed it. I could pretty much write my ticket if I wanted to be that kind of guy. My fiancé, however, had taught me that restraint was the most effective method of winning the war. I loved her so.

The fallout began the very next day. As hangovers began to wear off and bodies were washed of semen trails and lipstick marks, the residence of The Avalon began to consider their individual positions. Samantha had asked George to quietly let it out that every inch of our apartment was under camera surveillance and we let our guests of the night before draw their own conclusions. In the midst of New York City, there was a dead silence reigning over The Avalon. A literal barrage of mammoth bouquets of flowers was delivered, tiny white cards secreted among the petals. Although varying in their wording, the guests each thanked us for the invitation, for the entertainments and hoped that they could rely on our discretion. George let it be known that the discretion was understood in advance.

I learned one thing about billionaires and that was that their greatest pleasure in their wealth was in letting other people know they had it. Therefore, billionaires lorded it over millionaires and collectively, they provided an excellent database for my dating service. My clientele skyrocketed, so much so that I had to quadruple my server space, at the same time quadrupling the rates for membership. I was now extraordinarily expensive, and therefore all the more desirable. Magazines and even television media flocked toward me for interviews and although no names were ever released, it went without saying that Sodom and Gomorrah had been resurrected in The Avalon that night. The public was intrigued in learning of the billionaires who had taken part, and some of these men hinted at such when it was appropriate. Their reputations were selectively admired.

The only person who was perhaps less than thrilled with the evening was Mr. Satterly. He had been arrested, booked and was presently waiting without bond in a New York City jail. He would be turned over to the federal authorities and I was providing the evidence they needed. My long hours of observation and investigation had uncovered pockets of incriminating information that Satterly couldn’t deny. I wasn’t sure which gentlemen’s prison he’d end up inhabiting, but I did know we’d never again see his face. It was only an additional small comfort that when the net was closed, Eric and his father-in-law were also caught. I received a brief text from Penny, saying only, “Thank you.”

Samantha and I engaged the services of a reputable real estate agent and spent the next three weeks looking at properties in the more prestigious communities outside New York City. Although we knew that the eccentric tastes of millionaires did not end with the revolving doors of The Avalon, at least we could separate ourselves from them with a few thousand acres.

We found a property of approximately that size that ended on the shores of the Atlantic. The house sat high on the bluff and in the distance, we could hear the foghorn of a lighthouse on stormy nights. It was a large estate, intentionally so. Samantha and I wanted to have a large family and we wanted to be assured that our privacy would be respected.

We were married on a Saturday afternoon while the sun stayed long enough to supervise. Samantha had invited a childhood girlfriend to be her maid of honor. George stood as my best man. Samantha’s friend, Natalie, was equally as innocent as Samantha had been. It provided the unexpected opportunity for me to observe what Samantha must have been like as a younger girl, compared to the woman she’d become.

The wedding was held on the grounds of our estate and while the guest list was short, it was classic simplicity at its best. Still slender in her pregnancy, Samantha was breathtaking in a slim fitting white satin sheath, or so she told me it was called. She wore a circlet of white roses upon her head and even though I tried, she wouldn’t accept anything more than a thin gold band to accompany the emerald ring already on her left hand. I’d begun to appreciate her dislike of the ostentatious and I was glad that she would instill those humble values in our children.

Our twenty-odd guests sat in white chairs dotting a green slope that led to a small private lake stocked with fish and swans. Peacocks wandered along its banks; their noisy socializing making it difficult to hear as we exchanged our vows. Very much unlike the party she had thrown earlier, our wedding reception took on the tone of an English tea party. Everything was very proper, very floral, and very tastefully presented.

Samantha and I decided to honeymoon in Europe. My jet took us to Paris, London, Edinburgh, Rome, and yes, even to Athens. In fact, we ended our trip there, spending one night in a bed-and-breakfast where we could see the decaying columns of the Parthenon in the distance. We flew home the next day and I could tell by the look on her face that Samantha was beginning to feel the tinges of morning sickness.

We finally entered the time of our life when we did what all normal people did. We toured the preschools and academies within twenty miles of our estate, choosing the best for our child. Samantha decorated and decorated and decorated and I was content to let her express herself. She had excellent taste. After all, she married me, hadn’t she?

As she grew more rounded in appearance, it made her only look more cuddly to me. I couldn’t get enough of lying with her and though our lovemaking was gentler and slower, in some ways it was even more fulfilling. We spent time together, walking the estate and making plans for our future. I bought her a red Mercedes convertible and she loved to put the top down and drive the curving highways along the coast.

As her time grew near, I hired a nurse to be on hand. Although Samantha ultimately gave birth at the hospital, it was only a matter of a day before the nursery was occupied and the nurse was in charge.

Juliet Elizabeth North was born at seven o’clock in the morning. She was already rising early for a busy day. I held my daughter who had luckily inherited her mother’s unbelievable eyes and at that moment I no longer lived for myself or for Samantha. I’d already begun to worry about boys who appeared too close or the day she’d get her driver’s license. I knew all parents worried about such things, and somehow it gave me a feeling of security to know that I’d be among them.

Samantha came through the birth perfectly and once she felt her normal self again, we resumed our former enveloping sex life. When Juliet was old enough, we flew to locations around the planet, each one more unique and interesting than the last. I wanted to show them both the world.

David was born fourteen months after Juliet and he was followed by three more children: Beth Anne, Lila, and little Thomas. Samantha became the best mother anyone could ask for and I watched her in awe. I remembered the young girl, innocent of the ways of the world and I counted my blessings that I’d been allowed to open her eyes gently.

I sold my millionaire dating site to a holding company that represented the tenant on the sixty-ninth floor. I never did get a name, but that hardly mattered. I was glad to get rid of it. It carried too many reminders of life in a place with which I no longer wanted to be involved. From time to time, when I was in the city, I stopped by and chatted briefly with George. I invited him out to the estate, but he politely refused. “It’s just not where I belong, sir. This is my estate,” he’d say, sweeping his arm wide to indicate the building overhead. He was content, and I had to respect that peace of mind came in different packages for different people.

Satterly died in federal prison. He’d gotten frisky with the wrong man and a jealous lover had left him dead, his cock castrated and stuffed into his mouth. Dead men tell no tails.

Shit! Did I just say that?

Once in a while, Samantha and I would go into the city for a long weekend. We’d take in whatever plays were sold out, dining in rooftop restaurants and Samantha would allow herself a shopping spree. Gradually, over the years, I loosened her up enough to spend money, although she continually argued that the simpler it was, the happier she was.

She’d proven that to me. In our little town of Perthshire, she made it her business to build a small community theater. There were plenty of women and men who joined in to help, but Samantha was recognized as the founder. It was one very proud night when all the children, dressed in their best, sat next to me in the front row and watched as she took center stage in the lead role. She’d written the play herself, knowing fully well that she would give herself that lead. That night I saw the comedian in my wife and watched the way her eyes glowed and heard the tinkle of her laughter as her happiness fell upon the audience like a cloud of confetti. She received a standing ovation and this time the red roses were thrown at her. Samantha was my star from the very beginning.

Our children matured and one by one brought home their loves and little ones. Samantha reigned like a fairy queen over the lot of them. I like to think that my life had sparkle and enchantment simply because she was in it. For the first time in my life, I felt complete.

THE END