NosyDon51: not as good as my tongue either
SBmomof2: ur not helping
NosyDon51: wanna go parking in ur van
SBmomof2: embarrassed to say what i want to do
NosyDon51: what
A pop-up appeared. “SBmomof2 wants to open video chat window. Click to accept.”
I clicked, and after a moment, Sarah appeared on my screen. “Don’t talk loud. I don’t know how high I have to turn the volume.
“Okay,” I whispered. “How’s that?”
“You can talk. Just keep it down.”
“Like this?” I asked in a tone I would have used if she were on the next pillow.
“Just like that,” she said. “That’s nice.”
“Is everyone else asleep?”
“Oh heavens, yes,” Sarah answered. “I’m in my half of the home office, on the other side of the house from our bedroom, and I can still hear Tim snoring.
“We can video-chat from work, you know. In fact, that’s probably a pretty good idea for when I want to consult with you about something or if I can offer you any business.”
Even in the dim lighting in Sarah’s study, I could see her pretty face blush. “I wasn’t exactly thinking of video-conferencing with you, silly.”
“What were you thinking of?” I asked.
As she opened her robe, she said, “Pull your pants down, Don.” Conservative Mrs. Blevins put on quite a show for me that night, and she saw how much I appreciated it.
We decided to go to see Owens one last time before I left on Friday, to make sure we hadn’t missed anything. He was his usual overly-cheery self when we got there, but came storming into the conference room just before lunch.
“What the hell are you people doing?” he bellowed. “You talked to my neighbor?”
Sarah calmly got up from her chair, walked over to him, and got in his face. “Not only did we talk to your neighbor, you miserable scum, we visited that illegal back-alley abortion clinic you help to finance, and met the parents of your little playmate. Well, let me tell you, sleazy Mr. Bill Owens, for your sake, you’d better hope you can still afford to make all those payments when your wife’s attorney is done with you. I don’t know how you see the money you’re spending, but those people see it as hush money.”
I stood up too, gathering my belongings, since it was time to leave. “I’m no lawyer, but I imagine you could have some liability for any injuries caused by the quacks in that clinic. You might want to think about what your criminal culpability is there. Oh, and I assume you know that the statute of limitations on what you did to that little girl is twelve years in this state, and they don’t start counting until the victim turns eighteen. By that time, the son you fathered would be sixteen years old – big enough to give you the ass-kicking you deserve.”
“Get out!” Owens yelled. “Get out now! I will not stand for this invasion of my privacy! You have no damn right to treat me this way!”
Sarah packed up her materials. “We have every damn right to treat you this way, Mr. Owens. Every damn right in the world. But don’t worry. We’re leaving. I’m feeling a little ill just being around you!”
In the car on the way back to my hotel, Sarah asked, “When do you have to catch your plane?”
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