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Mainline Modeler Magazine

Delayed Gratification

Delayed Gratification

Hal was on a trip away from home. Far enough to know that no one, meaning his wife, could possibly find out he was having the time of his life. The drinks were being charged to his new company expense account and for the first time ever - in a place like this – he was a hit. He was buying for two drop dead gorgeous women in spaghetti-strap dresses barely concealing their very obvious charms. They were pressing their breasts against his arms from either side and laughing in stereo at everything he said. He knew it was the money he was laying on the bar, but he didn’t care. He had earned it and it was what set him apart from other men. Tonight he was celebrating his appointment to Western Sales Manager. Top Dog, number one on the left coast and starting tonight he intended to upgrade his lifestyle to reflect it.

He raised his glass in a silent salute to the doctor-type glowering at him from the other end of the bar. Eat your heart out, Chump, he grinned to himself, now they are with me.

He threw his head back like Bogie in Casablanca and downed a shot of Makers Mark in one gulp. It burned all the way down and brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to grab his water chaser, but he wanted to impress the two women more so he kept his cool and looked at them in the mirror and gave them a wink. The one on the left was blonde. A Sharon Stone look alike and each time she pulled on his arm to whisper in his ear, he leaned over and snuck a peek down the front of her dress. Her breasts were perfect. Round and firm with her nipples protruding through the thin fabric like peanut M&Ms on softballs. He laughed and nodded as if he were listening, but all he could think about was touching her. He was sure that she could not possibly be wearing anything underneath her dress and images of her tanned, lithe, naked body kept synapsing across his brain like the midnight fireworks at Disneyland. He pulled his handkerchief and dabbed at the little beads of perspiration gathering on his upper lip. He had never been close to this before. Desire began to well up inside him. He wanted to run his hands all over her body - both of their bodies!

The brunette was every bit as tasty as her companion. Each time she looked up through her lashes at him or ran her tongue across her teeth he knew she thought him only as attractive as his money, but he didn’t care. He laid another hundred dollar bill on the bar and they both laughed. She bit her lower lip like the sexy models in the commercials and leaned in even closer putting her hand on his thigh. Her touch was at once both sensuous and electric. An indescribable thrill ran through him. Hal had never “scored” before, but he knew this was it. The kind of night he had only rarely dared fantasize about knowing it could never happen to someone like him. But tonight the world was different. Tonight he knew he couldn’t lose. It was good to be King.

The two women had been with the yuppie down the bar when Hal had come in flashing his bankroll and a new pinkie ring worth more than a new Cadillac. He had immediately taken over giving instructions like he owned the place and once the bartender got a look at the wad of hundred dollar bills he anticipated Hal’s every need and doted on him like royalty. Hal was thrilled, but tried to act as if he expected this kind of treatment. Like he

did this kind of thing every day – walked into trendy bars and picked up the best looking women in the place. He made sure his tips were frequent and generous enough to insure the bartender’s devotion. The women were obviously impressed.

Fortified with self-importance fueled by the combination of bourbon and attention, he looked around the room at the dark wood, etched glass and brass. Ties everywhere, beautiful women dripping with expensive jewelry, a tuxedoed trio playing Tre’-hip Jazz Fusion. The whole place reeked of money, sex and power. Not long ago Hal would have been too intimidated to even set foot in a place like this, but not tonight. Tonight he was carrying a bankroll the size of a Coke can and he was looking for some world class fun to spend it on. What else was money for?

Hal made a lot of money – more than anyone in this place, he was sure. Almost a half million so far this year. How many men in this room could say that? He looked around through half-closed lids with barely concealed contempt. Stockbrokers, Lawyers, Insurance Salesmen, what a bunch of losers, worker bees going nowhere fast. In a couple of years, he thought, I’ll be a multimillionaire. In another ten – who knows? Not like these guys grinding away every month to make the house payment and pay for the kid’s braces.

It had not always been this way. In fact, for most of his life a night like this had been no more than an unreachable fantasy. The kind of thing that happened to other guys. Handsome, charming, successful guys, not him. Hal had not had a single date in high school. He never played sports or belonged to a club. He was not invited to any parties and nobody but Hal’s mother noticed when his Senior picture ended up in the Junior class section of his high school yearbook.

Three months after graduation his grandparents set him up with a woman from their church who was seven years his senior and rented the studio apartment above their garage. It was the first date for both of them and they were married just over a year later.

For the next few years Hal paid his dues. He bounced around from one cheesy job to another. Life was a struggle then, living month to month, barely able to make ends meet, supporting a wife and three kids. If the car broke down or the washing machine went, it constituted a major financial crisis. It was a time of cheap clothes, shabby thrift store furniture and bill collectors. They bought day-old bread, powdered milk and whatever meat was on sale. His wife used to say life was like a shit sandwich and every morning she’d push him out of bed with the admonition to get up and take another bite!

Those were hard times. Hal toughed it out, though, finally landing at Valley Power, putting in an eight year stint as a meter reader. It was a hell of a grind. He had walked the streets with his little metal clipboard in all types of weather, dodging cars, kids on bikes, skateboarders and angry dogs, tediously recording the meters. He hung in through thick and thin – and at night he studied, determined to make something of himself. Determined to break out and become somebody.

For five long years he read diligently and took tests by correspondence to become licensed as a Certified Financial Planner. Meter reader by day – student by night. It had not been easy. He had to sacrifice. He had missed being with his family and dropped out of the church. After a while his friends had stopped inviting him places because he never had time or money to spend. He stuck with it, though, and in the end it paid off. Finally he was an official Certified Financial Planner.

Instead of studying at night he was now out selling life insurance and mutual funds. He worked at it five nights a week and all day Saturday and Sunday. Slowly it began to pay off and one great day he was able to walk away from Valley Power and go fulltime as a Financial Planner. It wasn’t long before he found out he was good at it. Really good.

His reputation grew. He started picking up bigger and bigger clients. His income jumped. He took up golf, bought his first brand new car and joined the Lions Club. He started shopping at exclusive mens shops and sported a Rolex. His increasing success brought him to the attention of his employer. Recognized as a top producer he was given special accounts and a liberal expense account. He was becoming important. People listened to him when he spoke. For Hal this was heady stuff. For the first time in his life he was experiencing what it was like to be a big shot.

But even as his business expanded his small circle of old friends diminished. This was not seen as a big issue for Hal. He simply considered it a tradeoff. Old life for new, in fact, he hardly missed them because he had found a new drug – respect – and he was mainlining it every day - all day long, at the office. Respect from the very people he used to hold in awe. Everywhere he went within the company he got it and made the most of it. He reveled in his new status and could not help emphasizing his contributions to the company success at the slightest opportunity.

He understood numbers and could recognize trends. He knew the investment markets, how to increase yields, avoid taxes and make his clients millions of bucks, but tonight on the eve of his promotion he was celebrating alone. Not one person offered to celebrate with him tonight.

He shrugged that thought off with another shot of Makers and laughed to himself. Just wait, Assholes. This year number one on the West coast – next year I’ll be number in the whole company! Then they will have to stand in line to invite me out. Out to dinner, to the Theatre, company paid vacations in Hawaii. Then it will be, “Hal meet the wife”. “How about a round of golf, Hal”? It will be, “Scoot over boys and make room for old Hal’. His time in the sun was coming and it couldn’t arrive too soon for Hal.

He looked again at his reflection in the mirror across the bar. Flanked by two world class babes he mused on how far he had already come. Not bad for a red headed nerd who never even had a date in high school. It was true he was no longer young. However, along with his new wealth he had acquired confidence and style. He wore contacts now instead of those old Poindexter glasses. He had his teeth bonded, his hair styled and he was sporting a close cropped beard that squared off his otherwise weak chin. His suits were tailored and he had a personal trainer to keep him in shape. The new image brought with it a new attitude. He had even studied old Carey Grant and Errol Flynn movies to mimic how they walked, sat, held a fork and lit a cigarette. Now his every move declared him a man of substance and power. This evening he was determined to have the kind of night a man of his stature deserved. Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes!

He knocked back another two fingers of bourbon and gave a final salute to the yuppie-doctor-jerkoff at the end of the bar, I win you lose, Kildare. He surveyed the room once more in the mirror. Veni, Vedi, Vici, just like Julius Caesar. Tonight he had come in and established himself as the top dog in this joint. The Alpha male. He was king of the coolest bar in town and he liked the feeling. He decided to make it a habit. He would make up for all that lost time and he would start tonight. Right here, right now. It was the beginning of a new era where he would treat himself to everything he deserved. And, he chuckled to himself, a threesome with two magazine cover beauties will be a good start.

The two of them were driving him wild. The blond kept touching his wrist, playing with his gold bracelet, tracing the links with long graceful fingers. The brunette relentlessly caressed his leg. The more they laughed and pressed themselves against him the more his libido strained at the crotch of his trousers. His intoxication was increased by the scent and touch of such beautiful women. Brushing his ear with their warm, full lips, pressing their breasts against him promising the fulfillment of his long cherished fantasies was almost more than Hal could bear. He kept looking at their breasts. He wanted to reach inside their dresses and pull them out and hold them in his hands. They knew he was looking and liked it. He could tell by the way they were all over him that they wanted it as bad as he did.

He wanted desperately to close the deal – to go somewhere with them, but he had never gotten this far before and he didn’t know what to do. The brunette suddenly suggested they go to her room for a nightcap. As she said it she slid her hand up his leg and gently pressed his crotch. Hal responded by putting his on her leg and sliding it up under dress. When she smiled Hal said, “That would be fun, I’m sure”. He tried to sound elegant, but it came out in a hoarse whisper like the pervert on Laugh-In. The three of them laughed and Hal took them by the elbow and somewhat unsteadily, led them out leaving a conspicuous pile of cash on the bar. He dropped another twenty in the band’s tip jar on the way stopping only long enough for one more triumphant look over his shoulder at

the vanquished yuppie.

Once in the car the brunette began kissing his neck and openly rubbed the lump in his pants. He drove with one hand, sliding his other under her dress again. She spread her legs and moaned in his ear. He drove crazily, weaving all over the road trying to get his hand in her panties, clumsily straining to get his fingers under that tiny strip of lace and stay on the road at the same time. From the back seat came a squeal from the blond, “Save some for me”! And they all laughed again when Hal answered “There’s plenty for everybody”!

Then they were there. It was an upscale Mediterranean style place with arched doorways, palm trees and mosaic tiles. The parking lot was full of BMWs, Lincolns and Jags. The three of them staggered into the room in a panting tangle. The brunette closed the door and immediately began loosening Hal’s tie while she pushed herself against him and undulated slowly while she smiled, “You look so uncomfortable in that suit. Take it off and let’s get comfortable”. She undid a half a dozen buttons and pulled open his shirt and kissed his chest. He ran his fingers down her back and pulled her tight. He had never been pressed up against any other woman in his whole life except his wife and she didn’t look or feel anything like this. He was so hard it hurt. He ground himself against the brunette in delirious ecstasy. They both moaned with pleasure.

Suddenly the blond thrust a drink in his face. “Makers Mark, right”? Hal took it reluctantly releasing half of the brunette’s ass. The brunette kept one hand inside Hal’s shirt and took her drink in the other. She pinched his nipple and cooed, “Why don’t you enjoy your drink and get comfortable and give us a couple of minutes to prepare”? She hooked a finger in his belt and tugged gently as she backed away. The two of them sashayed into the bathroom and closed the door.

Hal downed his drink, kicked off his shoes and fumbled with his belt buckle. He was determined to be ready when they came out. He stripped to his shorts and stopped. Should he keep them on or take them off? He looked at himself in the mirror. He quickly decided to leave them on and jump under the covers and strike a pose. He looked down and laughed. He was pitching a major tent. He patted it and promised it a night of immersion in total bliss. Hal felt good. Really good. Hell, he felt great! In fact, he had never felt this good in his entire life. Every cell in his body seemed to be singing. He snuggled down into the covers. He was so warm and cozy –drifting - and then he was asleep.

His eyes had been open for awhile staring at the white metal ceiling before he realized he was awake and began wondering where he was. He could tell he was moving. A sudden jolt sent a stabbing pain through his right side. He screamed in agony and tried to reach down, but his hands were strapped to the rails of the bed. Instantly there was a hand on his chest and a man in a white coat leaned over and said, “It’s Okay, you are going to be fine. Just take it easy. You are in an ambulance on the way to County Hospital. We’ll have you patched up in no time”. As he spoke the ambulance hit another bump and pain caused him to cry out again. He struggled to ask what happened, but his words came out in unintelligible gasps. The man in white patted his shoulder and told him not to talk. Then he gave Hal an injection and he drifted off again.

When awoke again he was in a hospital bed. The pain was still there though apparently muted by drugs. His hands were still tied to the railing. For a moment sheer terror racked his body. “Where am I”, he screamed, “What is happening”? Two men appeared at his bedside and began to untie his hands. : “It’s Okay, you’re fine. Just a second and we’ll have your hands free. Didn’t want you tearing at your stitches in your sleep”. The speaker was the older of the two. Heavyset, red faced and rumpled. The second was younger, shorthaired and buff. In jeans, tie and tweed jacket – obviously Cops.

“Don’t try to talk yet. You are still pretty drugged up”. He went on, “The maid found you this morning when she came in to clean up. The good news is the Doctor says they didn’t do too bad of a job. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of infection and you should be out of here in a couple of days. The bad news they took your left Kidney. It’s a Hell of a racket. You are the third one this summer. Same M.O. Pick you up in a bar, get you drunk, take you to a room rented with a stolen card, drug you and cut out your kidney. Fetches thirty or forty thousand on the black market. They’re not amateurs either, the Doc said it looked like they knew what they were doing. Lucky for you. We’ve seen some real hack jobs…..…”.

The old Cop droned on, but Hal was not listening anymore. He was aware only of the awful pain and a need for sleep. Just before he passed out he asked himself how this could happen to the number one man on the West coast, the Alpha male, the……..

About the Author

B D Fenton is a freelance writer living in Southern California

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