Anson Forrester
He was seventy-eight years old and time was now his enemy. The energy was still there; he had aged well giving the appearance of a retired actor with chiseled features, a bit bent but still ruggedly handsome. Strangely, after all of his years as a casino owner in the dryness and heat of Nevada, he craved a slower pace; he wanted rain and a beautiful snow-capped mountain. He wanted trees; a density of trees thick enough to call them a forest.
He found that slower pace in Spurlock, a suburb of a larger city just south and west of Seattle, in Washington State. In the quiet of Spurlock, Forrester found his mountain. There it was, fully visible every day—gorgeous, magnificent Mount Rainier. The majestic mountain, surrounded by luxuriant pine trees stretched for miles in every direction. All of that beauty within a 30-minute drive of the small town of Spurlock.
Apart from the rain, the mountain and the forests, Forrester wanted to continue to be a casino owner and his sale of his casino in Greenwell provided him with 45 million dollars. Forrester used a portion of his millions to buy a five-acre plot of ground occupied by the Emporium Motel in Spurlock. The motel had fallen on hard times and the owner was eager to sell. The owner, Oren Masters, accepted Forrester’s offer of $750,000. Masters believed the building would be razed but Anson Forrester had other ideas. The hidden bones of the Emporium Motel were good. The former motel could be renovated into a magnificent multi-storied hotel and casino. The new setting was perfect, allowing Forrester the outdoor beauty he craved while continuing to enjoy the business he’d grown to love.
He also knew Spurlock and environs was home to 63,000 retirees between the ages of 63 and 85. All of them with annual incomes of $85,000 or more. Spurlock was the perfect setting for Forrester to spend the remaining years of his life.
Seven months after the purchase of the five acres, a beautiful edifice stood 4 stories high simply awaiting machines, tables and a name. Machines and tables were easy. The name was not.
Casino Mastabatorium
The name he chose for the casino created controversy at every level of the small community of Spurlock, Casino Mastabatorium! Forrester wanted the association of the words winning, passion and sex to join together to elevate the ecstasy of winning. Forrester’s arsenal of those three words, and a single reason explained why he chose Casino Mastabatorium as the name of his new Spurlock casino.
Forrester, watching players win, and watching the reactions of players around the winners feeling vicariously what those winners were feeling; older players who had long forgotten any hint of an erotic sensation—were vividly reminded of that sexuality through winning or being around winning. All of this related to those same customers returning to Casino Mastabatorium over and over again.
He carried this profound knowledge to his new casino where the largest concentration of potential gamblers in the 63 to 85 age range, lived within the confines and nearby environs of Spurlock, Washington.
Gambling! Winning, passion, sex—Casino Mastabatorium!
Name Controversy
Casino Mastabatorium?
Was he out of his mind? Yes, it was 2023 and nationally people were ready to acknowledge that sex existed! And in many forms! But naming a business after a veiled solitary sexual act? Once the intended name became known—instant censure arose from many sources.
Spurlock’s City Council searched for legal ways to prevent Forrester from naming his new casino Casino Mastabatorium. A popular radio station with a daily talk show, railed against the name. Spurlock’s weekly newspaper ran humorous columns lampooning Forrester, calling him mentally impaired and implied that his intent was not serious. In other words, the name was a publicity stunt.
But Forrester was deadly serious about two things, each related to the other—money and the business with which to create money. Without the legal measures to stop him, his gambling establishment became Casino Mastabatorium.
A lavish apartment was built for Anson Forrester on the fourth floor of Casino Mastabatorium. Two bedrooms, each with a bath, a large kitchen, a spacious living room with a floor to ceiling bay window.
In the distance, on a good day, was that majestic snow-covered mountain.
Welcome to Casino Mastabatorium
Once inside only a few feet separate potential winners from the waltz that long ago they knew as passion, a memory of a pleasure more easily achieved in a shower, a bath—a toy and a cream—and a dexterous subtle movement—inspiring moisture and joy, begetting a pulsating completion. They are where the loneliest and the lowest, the broke and the broken—can find a Pavlovian pleasure, a transitory release.
Rapture conceals the disguised promise of success, of winning! And a broken body, an overweight shell of a man or woman is now in possession of a veiled promise of pending pleasure. In truth the hint of a promise exists, provided by the rhythmic pressure of a hand—not to a body part but to a machine.
Lights flash, bells ring, joy abounds!
The music of victory fills all space at Casino Mastabatorium.
Lisa Tando
Lisa Tando was immediately recognizable. Late-twenties , earthy, and obviously a woman who had won some and lost some at the game of love. Her smile said hello—but beware. She was perfect for the work she did at Greenwell Casino. With seven years of experience, Lisa was comfortable dealing blackjack to players who bet $500 a hand and played 3 or 4 hands at a time or, at the other extreme, she could banter with players she called money renters—players she knew were playing with money that was not their own. She knew when to speak and when to be quiet; she knew when to dispense lighthearted humor or a subdued groan at a big loss.
The players she liked dealing to most were couples. Regardless of whether they were married or not couples were almost always joyful; they were there for a good time win or lose. She listened to their life stories and told her own, laughing at their foibles of getting through all their days and nights. She winked at strategic times, roared at hilarious quips and almost always sent them away with smiles on their faces. And the next day or night those same people would be back at her table, trading money with her, and loving the few days away from their everyday lives back in Oregon or Montana. Lisa related so well with them—because she had been one of them. Her father and employer, the casino magnate Anson Forrester, was proud of his blackjack dealing daughter.
Her journey from mid-teens to early twenties had been adventuresome. Her mother died of breast cancer when Lisa was fifteen. Julia Forrester was the only stability Lisa could rely on. Her father was wholly consumed with creating Greenwell Casino to be one of Nevada’s most successful, and he was unable to provide the attention needed by a teenage daughter, especially one who had just lost the only stable relationship she could depend on.
Lisa rebelled! She refused to attend school, began to associate with older teens who had chosen their own paths. She turned her back on the affluence her father could provide, stayed away from home for weeks, sometimes months at a time. She partook in the easy sex, smoked dope, moved from one couch to another and, when all else failed, depended on theft for essentials needed to live the bare bones existence that had become her way of life.
When Lisa began her rebellion, her father didn’t know what to do. He knew her defiance of authority was partially due to the loss of her mother. His own past was the other part. Anson Forrester, in his youth, had been the typical bad boy. In Forrester’s early to late teenage years, any parent of a teenage girl hearing his name spoken by their daughter, immediately thought of the words speed, alcohol, drugs and sex. Those words inspired immediate awareness and were followed by acutely enhanced supervision of their daughter.
Lisa was her father’s daughter and Forrester knew his early years were part of the chemistry that made him the man he’d become. He took pride in his character and discipline, recognizing them as the driving forces of his success. He wanted his daughter to possess the same strengths. Rebellion was a part of the equation that had made him who he was. He elected to allow Lisa to rebel to her heart’s content.
Lisa realized the latitude her father was giving her involved the words trust and love. It didn’t slow her down. The rebellion was still there. But her quick mind and her father’s admonitions allowed her to avoid serious harm.
Her next visit stretched into six months. Her father hoped she would stay this time. They discussed college and Lisa was adamant, ‘No more school!’ She wanted to make it on her own. She wanted to work menial jobs and spend time with riff-raff as she described those barely above the poverty line. She told her dad, ‘Down the road who knows? Give me some time and I may come back and sit on your knee!’
Lisa continued to visit her father at random times. She slept in her own bed for a week or two, exchanged viewpoints with him and then went back to her adventuresome lifestyle. It was her way of letting her father know that she was fine. Not fully safe, but fine! An admonition here and there and she was off again.
She was seventeen! And when she left this time, she was gone for nine years.
In the middle of those nine years, she married a youth in his early twenties named Michael Tando. Their hand to mouth existence came to an end after two years when Michael cheated on her. She split his lip with one swing, gathered some clothes and smiled as she walked out the door. It wasn’t her first failed relationship and the three before had failed because she had cheated.
She was her father’s equal in all except possessions. But what was his would one day be hers.
Her father waited. As he knew she would, eventually Lisa returned home.
She returned to Greenwell a well-rounded, worldly woman who knew exactly who she was.
Suddenly the Greenwell Casino had a new blackjack dealer. A mysterious mid-twenties young woman who got to know people without revealing her past. Single, wonderful sense of humor, unusually attractive, and the players she dealt cards to, loved her. Local blackjack addicts sought her out but her special talent was relating to the new cast of players who appeared each week from random parts of the country.
For one reason or the other Lisa Tando was special.
Guy Bertoni
Progression toward the casino entrance was slow and laborious for Guy Bertoni. He’d made this short journey many times and with each labored stride he remembered another time in his life when his movements were fluid, smooth. He remembered the brief but electrical moments when easily attained young women were eager to share his celebrity for just a few minutes, or an hour. He’d roamed a couple of major-league outfields before spending six years as a utility outfielder for the Seattle Mariners. A last year with the Reds and then a final trade to the White Sox. Just one year with the Sox and it was over. All teams knew about his problem with the curve ball!
In past days Bertoni had been svelte, muscled and devilishly handsome; he’d enjoyed the women and the lifestyle of a major league ballplayer. But that lifestyle was curtailed by his inability to hit a curve ball. Good field, no hit they called Guy Bertoni. His sojourn with the White Sox ended when he failed to hit above the Mendoza line. He played a couple more seasons in Triple A but never hit above .210. He was in his early thirties when he was released for the last time. The belly had begun to hang over his belt and, in his final minor league years, his face was lined from the late-night travels to different small-town ballparks.
The spark, the excitement didn’t end all at once but finally it was over. No more fielding of dying quails, no more flailing at unhittable curve balls. He left the game with a substantial bank account, one that he watched over carefully.
He worked construction, tended bar, enjoyed the occasional one-night stand. But the years went by and the belly continued to protrude and the lines became deeper, the hair thinned and suddenly he looked ten years older than his actual age of thirty-five. The early years of chasing down all of those long fly balls, and diving headlong to catch line drives before they touched the ground, had taken their toll. His gait now was slow and he favored his left leg. He spent those final minor league seasons in Tacoma, Washington playing for the Tacoma Rainiers. In the last year of his contract with Tacoma, he discovered gambling as a way of passing his leisure time. His favorite casino became Casino Mastabatorium. One visit and he was captured! The atmosphere was positive, upbeat and exciting. He returned often.
As Guy Bertoni progressed toward the entrance to Casino Mastabatorium he began to think about his future. His health and his physical appearance concerned him. He’d gained weight and his left knee had become stiff and painful. He experienced shortness of breath when he walked more than 100 feet. Having been the athlete of his younger years, he’d envisioned himself as a better physical specimen in his middle years. The ball playing was long over with. All those games, all those cities and all those women; it was time for a change. He wanted a long-term relationship and he had a prospect in mind. But his appearance had to change. He needed to take off the weight, gain some stamina and become sartorial! Recapture some of that elan of the younger Guy Bertoni and then he’d make a run at the thirtyish blackjack dealer, the one with the knowing, confident good looks about her!
Feelings for a woman he’d never met? Bertoni had watched her deal her cards. He had heard the salty, earthy, give and take between Lisa Tando and her Blackjack obsessed visitors! He didn’t know her yet but he was interested in knowing her. And he had a plan!
To aptly prepare to meet the comely blackjack dealer, he joined a gym and worked under a physical trainer. The excess weight came off in a couple of months. The lines in his face were not that easy until he realized their origin was from erratic sleep patterns. He stopped watching television until 3 in the morning three times a week before going to bed. He began to retire each evening between 11:30 and 12: P.M. The thinning hair? He shaved his head and discovered a perfectly rounded scalp beneath the sparse fuzz remaining at his hairline.
His next step in his preparation to meet the thirtyish blackjack dealer was to buy a copy of Basic Strategy: Blackjack. Many of the stratagems in the book were complex. He studied them over and over again until each move became second nature. Splitting cards, doubling down, when to hit and when to stay; he became familiar with each nuance that might arise and what action to take that ultimately would create a positive result. Learning basic strategy assured him of reducing the house advantage to a minimum of three percent.
Ten days of intense study was all Bertoni needed to learn Basic Strategy: Blackjack! He memorized all of the basic rules and tested what he’d learned over and over until he made the right decisions without having to think about it. He didn’t split 10’s, he didn’t take hits when the dealer had between a 3 and a 6 showing, and always followed the other subtlety nuanced rules allowing him to appear to be an excellent basic strategy player. Successful decisions, smart play and the ultimate respect that followed—might lead Lisa Tando to consider an interest in this handsome and trim man beyond the realm of blackjack!
A Home Run!
Lisa Tando was aware of the bald but handsome man passing her table from time to time. After asking around, she’d learned he was not a blackjack player. More of a slots guy! Lisa was aware of the 2 or 3 seconds his eyes played upon her as he passed her table. She was usually fully focused on dealing but her table was not always full and the small amount of time a player needed to make a decision gave Lisa a few seconds to view her surroundings. She sensed his interest and she waited.
When would the handsome ex-ballplayer act on his interest? When would he be ready to play a few hands?
Then, finally, after a brief absence of over a week, he appeared. He stood behind a woman seated in the fourth chair of Lisa Tando’s table. Unobtrusive, he watched as the woman asked for a card by brushing the cards in her hand on the table or, if she did not want a card, slipping the two cards under her wager. Adept, practiced, Bertoni watched as the woman competed with Tando by taking cards or standing and hoping the dealer would break. Tando was aware of Bertoni’s presence in the background but simply continued dealing to her players without any obvious notice of him. After four straight losing hands the woman Bertoni was watching smiled at the dealer and said, ‘You’re too good for me!’ She tipped LIsa three dollars and left the table. Bertoni, without fanfare of any kind, immediately took her seat.
Lisa thought to herself, ‘I’ve been waiting, Cowboy—pony up!’
But what she actually said when her new customer handed her a $100 bill was, ‘Welcome and good luck!’ She smiled and gave him his chips. Exchanges between players and an occasional riposte from Tando followed. The new player played his hands without comment—and he won! He had a streak of 4 wins playing $25 a hand. He doubled down with 11 against a 5 and won that hand too. He passed Tando a $25 chip, smiled and, without saying anything, he left the table.
He would be back with blackjack as a secondary reason for his return.
Tando/Bertoni Dance to a Romantic Conclusion
Even an exceptionally popular Blackjack dealer has an empty table on occasion. Guy Bertoni, early to the casino on a Tuesday evening, saw that Lisa was waiting for her first player to sit down. This was his opportunity. He was quick to act.
‘Good evening, Lisa!’ Guy had sauntered over to the first base position at her table.
‘First base! I’d still be playing if I’d reached first base more often back in my playing days.’
‘Hello Guy!’
She thought, ‘Raconteur of the baseball world! Are we going to hear another Yogi Berra quote? ‘If you come to a fork in the road, take it!’
She liked Guy and was hoping he’d get around to asking her out. With the help of a book and her advice, he’d become a really good Blackjack player.
He’d done all the things necessary to make this a successful moment. He’d lost weight, shaved his head to the totally bald look, improved his wardrobe and learned to play a good basic strategy. He remembered the great-looking outfielder of his younger, more athletic days. He was feeling that good about himself.
They had become friendly during the five or six times he’d played at her table. Being the practiced dealer she’d become, Lisa had learned Guy’s complete story. Where he’d grown up, each city he’d played in, all about his success—limited though it was, and the reason his career had ended abruptly.
Guy knew little about Lisa, not because he didn’t ask, but because she had a way of answering questions by revealing little or nothing. Guy wanted to know more and a dinner date would allow him to ask pointed questions. He could tell when a woman was interested. Lisa was interested.
There’s more to life than baseball and blackjack! I’d love to buy you dinner! I promise; I won’t talk about baseball even once!
‘Can we do that? You pick the night!’
Bertoni Smitten
Guy Bertoni was smitten with the dark-haired Blackjack dealer before he’d spoken a single word to her. Once he’d played at her table and listened to her trade witticisms with both the refined and the disheveled, obviously enjoying the repartee with both, the earthy humor of the woman made her even more attractive. For Bertoni it was love! And it was Casino Mastabatorium, unseemly as the name was, that brought his soulmate to him.
Magic abounded within Casino Mastabatorium! Anson Forrester’s intent was simply to create a successful casino in the small, picturesque village of Spurlock. He was aware of the good fortune of his daughter Lisa Tando and her burgeoning romance with ex-ballplayer Guy Bertoni! He’d observed the embryonic kindling of obvious interest from the security surveillance of the camera room above; a room necessary to every casino where management and security observers watched screens to catch the inevitably of cheaters. Forrester’s favorite camera was focused on Lisa’s blackjack table. He’d watched as Bertoni charmed his daughter with light humor and self-deprecation. He saw Lisa respond with subtle sarcasm and successful pretense that disguised the knowledge that the handsome ex-major leaguer was flirting with her.
Forrester Researches Bertoni
Anson Forrester was aware; his time was coming. He was seventy-eight years old and he needed to prepare his daughter for her future role as his replacement. Lisa had learned the intricacies of all the table games, he’d made certain of that. She was no longer just a Blackjack dealer. She was knowledgeable, somewhat war-hardened from her teen years on the streets. But for many reasons, Forrester knew she needed a man, a partner to complement her; the right man!
Security surveillance from the camera room above the casino floor allowed Forrester to observe the kindling of mutual interest between the ex-ball player and his daughter Lisa. He’d watched as Bertoni charmed his daughter with light humor and self-deprecation. He saw Lisa respond with subtle sarcasm disguising her awareness; the handsome ex-major leaguer was flirting with her.
During the beginning stages of the romance between Lisa and Bertoni, Forrester had taken the time to research Bertoni’s past. He discovered Bertoni had earned a Master’s Degree in Business by returning to USC during the first 3 off seasons of his baseball career prior to reaching the major leagues. Forrester needed to know if his after-hours playing was restricted to the casual entertainment of gambling; he hired a private detective to find out. The detective, after ten days of surveillance and another 3 days of computer tracking, revealed no women other than a cleaning lady who visited every Thursday. And criminally? Not even a traffic ticket!
Tando/Bertoni Dance to a Romantic Conclusion
Even an exceptionally popular Blackjack dealer has an empty table on occasion. Guy Bertoni, early to the casino on a Tuesday evening, saw that Lisa was waiting for her first player to sit down. This was his opportunity. He was quick to act.
‘Good evening, Lisa!’ Guy had sauntered over to the first base position at her table.
‘First base! I’d still be playing if I’d reached first base more often back in my playing days.’
‘Hello Guy!’
She thought, ‘Raconteur of the baseball world! Are we going to hear another Yogi Berra quote? She remembered the last one, ‘If you come to a fork in the road, take it!’
She liked Guy and was hoping he’d get around to asking her out. With the help of a book and her advice, he’d become a really good Blackjack player.
He’d done all the things necessary to make this a successful moment. He’d lost weight, shaved his head to the totally bald look, improved his wardrobe and learned to play a good basic strategy. He remembered the great-looking outfielder of his younger, more athletic days. He was feeling good about himself.
Lisa Tando and Guy Bertoni had become friendly during the five or six times he’d played at her table. Being a polished dealer, a practiced dealer, one who knew her regular customers, she had learned Guy’s complete story. Where he’d grown up, each city he’d played in, all about his success—limited though it was, and the reason his career had ended abruptly.
Guy knew little about Lisa, not because he didn’t ask, but because she had a way of answering questions by revealing little or nothing.
Guy wanted to know more and a dinner date would allow him to ask pointed questions. He could tell when a woman was interested. Lisa was interested.
‘There’s more to life than baseball and blackjack! I’d love to buy you dinner! I promise; I won’t talk about baseball even once!
‘Can we do that? You pick the night!’
Anna Badham
Anna was thirty-six, never married, never in a relationship of any kind. She was well-acquainted with the second word of this new casino’s name. The solitary activity implied in the word Mastabatorium had served her well for the previous twenty-five years of her life. Now she was determined to expand her experience through an encounter with a man. She’d chosen an unlikely place to quietly seek a liaison that would liberate her from the word so embarrassing to her.
She suspected that a man could look at her once and know!
She was haunted by the word.
Virgin!
She never imagined herself to be more than she was. She saw herself as insecure, lacking composure, withdrawn, virtually invisible. However, blooming late as they say, applying makeup, choosing new styles of clothes, clothes that revealed a bit more skin; her physical appearance had changed; she had blossomed. While not approaching hot she had begun to notice elongated glances from males in random places.
Her courage bolstered, she decided to go where people gathered in circumstances where conversations could begin comfortably. Hence, not knowing the advanced age range of the gamers at Casino Mastabatorium—she chose to seek her release from the act implied within the casino’s name. She went to Casino Mastabatorium!
With her usually forbidding countenance replaced with the hint of a smile, she slowly began threading her way through serpentine paths strategically orchestrated to capture attention. She ignored the machines while searching for men of a certain appearance. Late thirties, early forties, slender, well-dressed and free of tattoos.
Anna was on a mission she was not prepared for. But the right man could lead the way and she would gain experience. Anson Forrester had provided 3 stories of hotel rooms above the casino. Anna Badham had reserved one of those rooms for two nights. She would likely need the room for just the one night, given her determination to win as all the signage within the casino said she would.
Anna threaded the aisles at a casual pace, as if looking for a slot machine she could be comfortable with. She saw many men playing many machines but, each was eliminated because of either age, appearance or multiple tattoos. She continued her search for another twenty minutes, more men and similar results.
And then, finally, there he was! Not slender but not heavy either. Not late thirties but early thirties. Wearing glasses and the personification of innocuous. No visible tattoos! She smiled as she inserted her twenty-dollar bill into the machine next to him. Lines connected and four dollars in credits were added to the twenty dollars already in the machine.
“Well, aren’t you the lucky one!” he said.
Anna replied, “Not always!” She then looked over at the man playing next to her. Inspired with confidence based on his appearance, she smiled at the man. Not in a flirtatious way. Just an innocent smile but her words had intent as she held the smile.
“But I’m hoping I will get lucky tonight.” He held her gaze for just a moment then looked away.
Anna, bereft of what it took to play the game; to do the preliminary dance required before both understood the objective, said, “I have a room upstairs! Would you like to go there with me?”
He hesitated, somewhat shocked. He introduced himself. “My name is Mark!” He smiled, “That is quite the offer! Can I trust you to behave yourself?”
Feeling just a little more comfortable, Anna said, “Maybe! Maybe not! You aren’t dangerous, are you?”
“No, are you?”
“No, not at all! But I owe you an explanation and I’ll give it to you over a couple of glasses of wine in my room. I know this is unusual but, I can assure you, there is nothing sinister going on. I am a woman with a mission and I believe you’re the perfect man to help me accomplish my simple goal.
Then it occurred to her! ‘Are you married? Is your wife just around the corner at another machine?’
“No, no wife. No girlfriend and a glass of wine and a bit of conversation sounds good. I believe I can guess the goal! At least I’m hoping I can guess the goal.”
Anna, nonplussed, tried her hand at humor. “We’ll start with an arm-wrestling contest!”
He laughed. “Let’s find an elevator!”
Paul Sanders
He was everyman! Except he wasn’t! Paul Sanders had grown up poor. He was raised kindly by his mother and not so kindly by a succession of stepfathers.
His strength during all of those formative years was coping. He walked the line! Adhering to rules, allowing his mother and her verbally abusive third husband to work out their own problems, Paul played some sports, completed his schoolwork as best he could and ignored the rants and rages in the small home with two feuding adults.
After completing two years of community college Paul began to use menial clerical jobs as stepping stones, eventually he became an office manager. With a staff of fourteen under his direction, he was content to do his work well and had no desire to achieve a higher executive position. He spent his twenties working, buying a home and dating a few attractive women. For Paul, long-term relationships were few. He was open to marriage but just hadn’t found the right one.
For mindless recreation he gambled a little. Low stakes, slots mostly.
His favorite gambling establishment was Casino Mastabatorium. He soon discovered the average age of the casino’s customers was around seventy! He wasn’t there to find a relationship; he just wanted a few hours of mindless entertainment.
And then he met Anna Badham!
Badham/Sanders
Paul Sanders had never been aggressive. He waited, always, for that green light. He was that nice-looking everyman! He was never without female companionship and occasionally dated two or three women at a time. Over the years, the office manager had had several long-term relationships but none had matured into anything serious. And always, in the background, there were those two or three women—available by phone whenever he chose to call them. Life was good for Paul!
Life got better when he met Anna Badham!
Paul was a small stakes gambler. His casino of choice was Casino Mastabatorium. He played slots and a little Blackjack. His slots game of choice was Lucky Lemmings and invariably, a woman would sit at the Lemmings machine next to his. Rarely was there any conversation as each player became engrossed in the machine’s journey to a bonus round. But, occasionally, his female at the neighboring machine would begin an exchange with Paul, and he would respond.
It was that way with Anna Badham! Except the nature of her interaction with Paul was different than he’d ever heard before!
The third sentence out of her mouth was, “But I’m hoping I will get lucky tonight.” Paul, always attentive for that green light, immediately understood the veiled intent of her words. Then, “I have a room upstairs! Would you like to go there with me?”
The hesitation, previously mentioned, an immediate assessment of her physical features determined a stunning presence, conservatively dressed and an absence of what concerned him; there was no hint of the craziness he was sure would be there. She appeared normal but then, who knows? Roughly mid-thirties, well-proportioned.
Paul’s gambling was slots, not women. But this time all the odds seemed to be in his favor. They exchanged first names and, at Paul’s suggestion, they went looking for an elevator. The lift was short to the second floor and Room 207. Anna had promised to explain and once inside Room 207 they sat down on the bed.
“I’m a virgin! I’m hoping, Paul, that you are what you appear to be! A nice guy! I was immediately attracted to you not because you look harmless because no man is harmless. I was attracted to you because you appear to blend a sexual look with that boy next door appearance—after the boy next door has grown up!
She thought to herself, ‘Does that equate to harmless? I’m unsure!’
Paul didn’t interrupt but he still didn’t fully understand his role? Was he about to be used? He knew absolutely that Anna’s intent was to use him but, was her intent positive. If he agreed, would Anna have achieved a positive result?
She explained further—exhibiting what Paul had discerned earlier, a finely tuned sense of humor, “No, I haven’t been in a nunnery. My circumstances were close to those of a nunnery. My chances of ridding myself of my virginal status were better in a nunnery than where I was!
‘My mother, Alice, was wonderful raising me to the age of eighteen. When I was eighteen she fell ill with not one but four medical issues. She required my presence twenty-four hours a day for the following eighteen years. I gave her what she had given me!
‘Eighteen years given freely, without regret.
‘I had zero exposure to men; well, doctors and delivery boys—but that was it! My mother passed three weeks ago, and here I am, overly burdened and looking for a nice guy! I’m hoping, Paul, that you are that boy next door grown up—and will agree to help me lift the burden!”
“I will!’ He added, ‘And I’ll do it with total concern for your……’ and here he hesitated because he didn’t know what to say next; finally, he finished with “sense of decorum.” Awkward words but he was in an awkward situation.
He wanted to put Anna at ease!
And Anna wanted her boy next door to be at ease too! ‘We’ll get through it! And thank you!’
Paul had never been thanked before but was aware enough to not say, ‘My pleasure!’
Paul knew about slow, gentle and awareness! He took his time and Anna responded accordingly. He prepared her physically and then, verbally in low volume. The process was alternately pleasurable and painful for Anna but Paul sensed, thankfully, the pleasure was greater than the pain.
Afterward there was no urgency to get dressed! Neither seemed self-conscious about their nakedness. They were totally comfortable! No expiation for Anna and Paul.
So involved in his journey to a successful conclusion, Paul had not taken a second look at his partner. When he did, he again saw that she was gorgeous, but not in a hot way, not movie star gorgeous; she was wholesome gorgeous in the way a television sit-com mom would be gorgeous. He could imagine her in a house-dress making coffee and breakfast. He sensed something different about Anna, something other than her sexuality. Internally, he felt the need to stay in Room 207 and protect Anna! From what? She was safe! There was nothing threatening her! But, the need to stay, the need to give her comfort, to protect her was somewhere in the recesses of his soul. And stay he would, if she would let him.
This was the unusual beginning of a long-term commitment between Paul and Anna! Their marriage would result in three children, two boys and a girl. Paul never looked for green lights again and Anna— one grown up boy next door was everything she needed.
They would revisit Casino Mastabatorium from time to time and always cherished the fond memories!
(Could this fit somewhere in the Sells ‘Utopian/Celestial’ viewpoint?)
One last question that comes from me…nowhere else…This question has to do with the ultimate of being punished for not believing in God or, for not adhering to a belief concept that will allow entrance into heaven, or not living according to the principles of God and thereby being denied entrance to ‘Paradise’….if I am a small mass of something bouncing around in the universe somewhere…and God plucks me from my wanderings..and creates me as a ‘man’…giving me the option of conforming to his concept of ‘correctness’ in order that I can, upon death, ascend to the next treasured level….remember, I was a simple mass of matter content in my universe…before being converted into a man….and possibly being condemned to Hell…everlastingly…where is the justice in that….?
Forrester Learns: Persuasion or Sex? Or Was it Both?
Upon entering Suite 312 Anson Forrester first noticed the two empty wine bottles. His eyes then turned to Stella Stone. Stone was sober. Not tipsy, sober! Many of the talents developed in her lengthy role as Christina were now available to Stella.
Change the wine bottles to the last visit…Also, check Spirit and children???
Forrester asked, ‘He’s still determined, isn’t he? Damn!’
She replied, ‘Ye, of so little faith! Dr. Sells…well, Terry as I now know him, is no longer suicidal! Our discussion in the first meeting totaled three hours. Those three hours were laced with animus, full on disagreement as I searched for something, anything—that I could use to convince him that he needed to finish his selfless natural existence among friends, children’ and laughing she said, ‘his dog—Spirit.’
She said after the second visit she felt they had reached a miniscule degree of accord!
‘A miniscule degree of accord?’ Forrester asked.
‘Yes, Anson, we did find some middle ground. I asked him a question he couldn’t answer! The question was, ‘How did he know he came to earth without giving his consent? I asked him, ‘How do you know your existence prior to coming to earth was tranquil? How do you know you existed at all?”
‘He had no answer!’
‘What about your quotations?’ asked Forrester.
The quotations? Well, I had discovered he owned a cherished pet, a dog named ‘Spirit’. Before giving him the first written quotation, I said, Dr. Sells I’m going to give you two reasons why suicide is wrong for you!’
‘Dogs exist! Spirit exists! Who is going to care for a despondent ‘Spirit’ once you’re gone?
Then a quote from Dorothy Parker: “Razors pain you, Rivers are damp, Acids stain you, and Drugs cause cramps, Guns aren’t lawful, Nooses give, Gas smells awful-You might as well live.”
‘Then I gave him the second quote. This one from Bill Maher: ‘Suicide is man’s way of telling God, ‘You can’t fire me – I quit.’
Forrester laughed out loud. He was sure Dr. Sells had been convinced by the tandem of Stella Stone and Christina. Who deserved the greater part of the credit for saving Dr. Sells, Stella or Christina—he didn’t know.
Forrester was happy! His friend Dr. Sells had needed something in his life to provide a greater meaning, something that would replace the dicey objective of a celestial tranquility
Did the equation Sells and Stone reached involve romance? Forrester didn’t know and didn’t care. Stella’s description of the arrangement they’d reached was somewhat veiled. Alluding to affection indirectly but emphasizing, dwelling on—physical attraction. Forrester guessed that Christina had become part of that equation.
All was well! A void in Stella’s life had been filled. And Dr. Sells was now earthbound.
Anson Forrester went outside the casino and walked to a grassy area roughly thirty-five yards from the entrance to the gambling palace. He turned around and beaming at the huge sign that announced Casino Mastabatorium. He said aloud, ‘Well done!’
Biting the bullet she asks, ‘Has Anson filled you in on my former occupational pursuits? I am not secretive or embarrassed by either of them, though I wish that movie thing had worked out better!’
Stella, the former Christina, measures the task before her. Forrester believes she is the one person he knows with a chance to dissuade Sells of his intent to be in control of his orchestrated demise.
Perhaps it was true of all of us? Had we all derived from atop some cloud, or from some divine gossamer entity somewhere in the universe? A place where we had access to all that heaven allowed?
Heaven is her word. Sells does not believe in heaven but he does believe he existed celestially prior to being delivered to earth.
Forrester continued to explain. ‘Sells, once his intense study of religions and philosophy was done, had consulted psychiatrists, psychics, mental health specialists of all kinds—to hear their reasons against his decision. He listened to them without feeling depression or any other kind of mental anguish. His mind was open to knowing any intelligent reason to alter his plan of self-destruction.’
What Stella Stone actually possessed was some watered-down common sense and two quotations. If the coalescence of a simple basic philosophy and two quotes—failed, then Dr. Sells would continue on the path of his questionable solution.
Stella Stone
Few knew Stella Stone’s actual surname of Cosgrove. Cosgrove became Stone when the teenaged Stella won her first major beauty contest and became Miss Wyoming. She would soon follow the well-traveled path to Hollywood and have the standard 13-year career of bit parts and occasional starring roles in horror movies.
Stella smoked, drank and partied throughout her twenties. Roles of any kind ended when she entered her thirtieth year. Lines around the eyes and a slight puffiness in her cheeks added a subtle hardness to her features. Her time in the sunshine of Hollywood was over.
Her beauty was gone but Stella was still attractive, and with the practiced dexterity she’d learned in her nocturnal wanderings throughout the morass of sexual athleticism in the City of Angels, Stella became Christina. She’d studied and practiced every pleasure giving sexual activity known to humanity. Some came to Christina with sexual afflictions and left magically healed. Some came sexually whole and left awash in the memory of pleasure.
The name Stella Stone had never reached the rarified air shared by executives of major movie studios. Her success as Christina far exceeded her middling career as an actress.
Her new name was never more than a whisper and was politely shared among both sexes within the film industry. Through messages passed in hushed tones, many of these men and women became aware of Christina!
There was never a link from Stella Stone to Christina.
Her work was performed with minimal attire. She wore a mask to obscure her face. In the many years following her thirty-third year, no one ever recognized her as Stella Stone.
Her practice as a gifted woman of all things sexual was not unique to Hollywood. Many women had preceded her. Some had become well-known and their notoriety led to a list that diminished in direct proportion to their names becoming known among their peers.
Christina practiced an acumen that made each of her clients anonymous. Even if, in some way, she knew the identity of a client, he or she was anonymous. It was Christina’s way of practicing discretion.
Her clients wore no veils but to Christina they were veiled; not disembodied but without a recognizable presence! Her discipline of pleasure was extreme and always in place. They had names outside Christina’s palace of pleasure but inside, they were bodies given over to Christina’s art form.
She enjoyed her work and her clientele list grew to include men and women of wealth from all parts of the country. After reaching her late thirties, Christina began to give her attention to those patrons capable of paying her extraordinarily large amounts. She lessened the numbers on her client list. There were hints, barely noticeable, of a loss of strength. Soon it would become obvious to her clients. She exercised vigorously in an attempt to rebuild the muscle tone in her arms and legs. The exercise, while making her stronger, decreased the smooth lines of her physical form. As the problems with her strength and physical form increased, Stella came to accept that her lucrative role as Christina would soon end.
She had become weary, troubled. Age had become her enemy. Her physical acumen had begun to fail. The magical gifts, once available to her and thus to others, began to weaken. But only Stella was aware of these initial changes. She knew others would soon sense the nuance of change, and the perfection she was innately proud of—would turn to humiliation.
She confided in Anson Forrester, a former client and now a close friend. Forrester suspected Christina would find it difficult to leave the excitement of her former life behind. To assuage the lifestyle change he suggested she follow him to Spurlock. And as a buffer to the shock of downgrading from Christina to Stella Stone, he offered her an executive position within Casino Matabatorium.
She was secure financially and, in addition to the malady of her left-hand, the excitement of her life as Christina had begun to wane. It was time for a change, a slower pace! Forrester’s offer of a position within his casino was something she would consider. But what of Spurlock, Washington? Could she adjust to small-town existence after her three decades of craziness in the Los Angeles jungle?
‘Well, if I can successfully become Stella Stone again—after being Christina, adjusting to Spurlock should be a pleasant walk through a rose garden. Hadn’t Marlon Brando and Wally Cox been roommates before they were movie stars? Contrast can be a good thing!’
She visited Spurlock and the surrounding beauty captured her. The quiet, solitude was an immense departure from her former existence as Christina. She immediately began searching for a place to live and settled on a luxurious condominium in a gated-community.
She returned to Los Angeles and packed her personal belongings. What she didn’t take with her she gave to a charitable organization. Christina then took a flight to the State of Washington, and became once again, Stella Stone.
Dr. Terrance Sells
‘Terry’ Sells, Dr. Terrance Sells, had practiced medicine morally and in accordance with the Hippocratic Oath for twenty years. He intended to depart from that unassailable history of helping his fellow man in the next year. He intended to depart from the Oath in the most dramatic of ways. Only one person knew of his intent and that man was his friend Anson Forrester.
Forrester had met Sells when he needed some minor surgery performed. After Forrester’s three visits to Sells, he and the doctor were on a first name basis. Their immediate rapport led to several meetings for lunch and dinner. The connection between the two men related to a common interest. Both men were voracious readers. The subject material for Forrester was eclectic but none of it was light reading. Classic literature, physics, mathematics, memoirs, history, whatever challenged him at the moment.
Dr. Sells read with a purpose in mind. He had questions about the origin of man, and he had questions about his own origin. He read philosophy and philosophers, he read about every imaginable religion, spiritualism of any ilk he could find; he studied all with intensity and with an acute sense of reason. The tenets of some were accepted, others based on that same sense of reason, were rejected.
The good doctor was spiritual throughout his being. Every belief he held had been given an immense amount of thought over all of his adult years. They were not beliefs driven into him through men and women of God at regular Sunday services; his beliefs were derived after intense study of varied religious and philosophical conclusions of great thinkers, throughout time. All of those conclusions were then considered, sifted, evaluated before they were accepted as a belief of Dr.Sells.
One night he encountered a book titled ‘Atlas Shrugged’ by Ayn Rand. Upon reading ‘Shrugged’ Sells immediately realized something! Rand’s writings encapsulated everything he’d chosen to believe. He stopped searching and adopted her well-written words on objectivism.
He discovered Rand’s atheism was her only departure from what he believed. In contrast to Rand, Sells believed he had existed in some form before he was delivered to earth. And he believed he would exist in some form after he left the earth.
Both Sells and Forrester were thoughtful, articulate men. They discussed everything though philosophy and religion dominated their conversations. They rarely agreed. Their conversations were a bit contentious but with a wealth of shared humor thrown in, all opposing viewpoints ended in laughter.
Dr. Terry Sells confided in Anson Forrester! He’d made a decision, a radical decision, about his future.
But before Dr. Sells acted on his decision, Forrester wanted him to meet someone who might change his mind.
Anson Forrester/Stella Stone
Stella waits in Suite 312 for Anson Forrester.
She is splendid in an A Line skirt, gathered at the waist and ending abruptly at mid-thigh. The skirt is complemented by a black and white long-sleeved sweater, the black separated from the white by a diagonal line. Stella, boasting a clear complexion and no facial lines, is approaching forty but appears to be no more than thirty-two.
An unsmiling Forrester arrives at Suite 312. Stella begins, ‘Is this going to be unpleasant? Why are you looking so serious Anson?’
Forrester is stylishly dressed in a black double-breasted suit.
He hesitates, ‘Unpleasant? I’ll admit upfront Stella—what I’m going to ask of you will be complicated and unfair.’
He looks at her intently, ‘Obviously you may choose not to do as I ask.’
Somewhat relieved Stella replies, ‘Tell me what is unfair?’
He put her at ease regarding Christina. He laughed, ‘I’m not going to ask you to become Christina again! I may ask you, as Stella Stone, to revisit some of Christina’s persuasive powers but, no more than that. ‘This is about a friend of mine, a good friend. His name is Dr. Terrance Sells.
Forrester sighs, ‘Let me explain. You’ve never heard anything like it!’
‘Yes, explain, please!
‘Let me begin by giving you some background on Dr. Sells. He grew up poor but he coped well. Athletic, he excelled at sports, he worked a dozen part time jobs for spending money, spent what spare time he had studying and graduated with honors. He received scholarship offers from several universities, chose Stanford and again graduated with honors. He then borrowed money to attend med-school and followed that by fulfilling his residency requirement at University of Washington Medical Center.
‘Dr. Sells is fifty-four years old.
‘He’s been a busy surgeon in both Seattle and Tacoma for the last 22 years. ‘When you hear the rest of this, you’ll think Dr. Terrance Sells is unbalanced. Everything I’ve told you up to this point describes a disciplined achievement-oriented man! I haven’t given you any reason to believe otherwise. Here comes the bizarre element to the story.
‘Early on, something within Sells insisted he search for an acceptable concept regarding the origin of his existence. Mentally he came to believe he’d been plucked from a celestial utopia and was then thrust into an impoverished circumstance here on earth, seemingly by happenstance. He believes chance brought him here!’
He waited a moment while Stella mulled over what he’d just said.
‘He is a man, Stella, who is not content to accept a total lack of control over his destiny. He may sound somewhat deranged to you as he did for me when we first met. But once you know him, you’ll perceive him correctly. He is a man of acute intellect, a man of in-depth accumulated knowledge and a man of immense wit and humor.’
Forrester sighs with relief as he says, ‘‘There is nothing desultory about him!
‘He has made a decision that would suggest depression, melancholia, despondence! You won’t see any hint of such maladies in Dr. Terry Sells! He will overwhelm you with buoyance, ebullience, joy…yes, you’ll entertain his mien as a contradiction at first but that will subside as you get to know him.’
Looking serious, concerned, Forrester says, ‘I want you to prevent my good friend, Dr. Terence Sells from committing suicide!’
Stella Stone
Suicide! Are you serious? My God!
Stella recalls a passage from Jane Eyre:
‘One lies there who will soon be beyond the war of the earthly
elements. Whither will that spirit—now struggling to quit its
material tenement—flit when at length released?’
Suite 312 Dr. Terrence Sells and Stella Stone
She waited patiently in Suite 312 for Sells knock on the door. When it came, Stella walked to the door and opened it. When she opened the door, she was confronted by a man of no more than forty-two and he was movie star-handsome!
‘Hello! You must be Stella Stone! I am Terrence Sells…. may I come in?’
Stunned by the discrepancy in age and appearance, Stella said, ‘Yes, please come in.’
They sat down at the same marble table she and Forrester had sat at earlier.
Each smiled at the other. Stella began, ‘I am most happy to meet you, Dr. Sells!’
Sells didn’t respond but continued to smile.
‘I am pleasantly surprised! I expected an older man! And I expected someone with a pedestrian appearance—you have that chiseled look typical of a handsome character actor. The thought occurred to me that you and Anson may have set me up. As her smile reappeared, she said, ‘You’re not from a modeling agency or an actor’s guild, are you?’
‘No, I am a doctor. And setup? No Stella, I am here for one reason only and that is to quell the anxiety Anson is feeling in regard to my, as they called it during my army service days, new deployment! Myself, I am fully comfortable with, as I like to describe it, ascending. Anson suggested, quite strongly, that I talk with you.’ A short laugh emanated from the doctor, more of a snort than a laugh. ‘He thinks I’m crazy. He hasn’t come out and said it but I’m sure he believes it. I assure you; my sanity is intact.’
Sells was impressed! Stella Stone had put him totally at ease. A mysterious woman! Beautiful, and totally aware of who she is. He liked her! Thank you, Anson Forrester!
Now it was time for Stella to challenge Dr. Sells concept of his future. She is genuinely curious! How is he going to answer her first stark question?
‘I ask you Dr. Sells, how do you know? By what mental acuity allows you to determine that your self-inflicted death will return you to your pre-earth physical form? If there was such a form? And what mental acuity allows you to determine the location within your imagined universe where you were able to gambol unharnessed at will? Also, if there is actually such a location? What rapier like dagger, loosened from your imagined celestial paradise, delivered this obscure and untenable message to you?
With all of his reading, with all of his beliefs mined from the minds of pundits throughout time, not one of them had condensed the questions of origin and destiny as succinctly into one paragraph as had Stella Stone. Again, he was impressed!
‘Stella, you are asking me to explain beliefs arrived at after reading a thousand books! Beliefs arrived at after thousands of hours of thought! Prior to all of those books were thoughts instinctual to my nature that I neither can or will try to explain. As Anson has likely told you, I have definitive views unrelated to the immense study I’ve done, views related to my origin and my destiny. Chances are the source of these views are atavistic, related to some ancestor from many generations back in time. I don’t question my conclusions. I trust them! And discussing them with you will accomplish nothing.
‘However, we are here because of Anson’s concern for my future! Or, specifically, my intent to change the location of my existence. The word we’re speaking of is suicide! I don’t relate the word to death because I do not relate the word to our society’s concept of death. My choice to leave this earth is not a choice to end my existence; it’s a choice to elevate to a different existence.
Sells said, ‘I can best explain by reading you a quote of a French avant-garde artist—
If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself, but to put myself back together again. Suicide will be for me only one means of violently reconquering myself, of brutally invading my being, of anticipating the unpredictable approaches of God. By suicide, I reintroduce my design in nature, I shall for the first time give things the shape of my will. Antonin Artaud
‘Though I would describe my viewpoint somewhat differently, Artaud’s famous quote describes my feelings accurately. The key phrase within his quote is ‘I want to reintroduce my design of nature!’
Quietly he challenged her, ‘Do I have a right to question my origin. Do I have a right to question my destiny?
‘Convince me otherwise!’
Stella and Dr. Sells went back and forth for the next three hours. Thousands of words were exchanged between them. Discussion of ending a man’s life, seemingly without good reason, was dire. But there was levity too. They laughed a great deal as they enjoyed the diverse humor of their conflicting comments.
Oddly, at first Stella Stone wallowed in negative viewpoints while the self-condemned Dr. Sells provided a wealth of optimism. At the beginning of their discussion each was gently unyielding but, as the conversation progressed, the former courtesan and the cerebral doctor, disagreed less and less; intractable viewpoints began to reach a comfortable middle-ground.
After a third meeting, anyone observing the conversant couple could sense a rapport begin to grow between Sells and Stella Stone. This third meeting brought Sells and Stone closer to agreement. Children, the unknowns of the celestial paradise Sells was seeking and the two bottles of Twomey Pinot Noir Wine Sells discovered in a small cabinet—that comfortable middle ground became substantial.
Success began to lean toward Stella Stone.
They are moderate in their intake of the wine. The wine is sweet! Each in turn, makes a concession to the other. Stone decries the pain and suffering Sells death will cause his children. She learns that Sells owns a beloved dog named Spirit. She beseeches him, ‘How will Spirit get on once you are gone?’
‘Dr. Sells, pay attention to this quote and be cautious, ‘Dogs exist! Spirit exists!’
Sells laughs, but he is visibly impacted! Is it the wine, the quote or, perhaps, it is the wine, the quote and this beautiful woman imploring that he become less rigid?
Another dynamic had been achieved between Stella Stone and Dr. Terrence Sells! Three meetings with Stella Stone had not, in that short time, created the magic of love. But an agreed upon bond between Sells and the former courtesan, one that defied description, had been forged!
After the third meeting in Suite 312, Sells and Stone met a fifth and sixth time. Each time Stone dwelt on the selfless life Dr. Sells had led. Again, she spoke of his two children who would be deprived of their father’s last years. She assured Dr. Sells that she, Stella, would miss him greatly because she had become fond of him and knew for a fact, she would not be able to find him in that celestial paradise he was going to—and, laughing— would not be able to continue the embryonic relationship they had forged.
With each meeting Stella impressed upon Sells that he was being selfish, and ultimately Stella was able to discern that his suicidal intent had weakened. She told him he would eventually elevate to that celestial paradise, if one existed, when natural causes allowed him to escape.
More laughter.
To her great surprise Stella Stone succeeded! Sells, promised, actually swore that he would not make any further arrangements to end his life. Ending it prematurely would be selfish—and disappointing to many, one of them being Stella Stone!
Lastly before they parted, Stella gave Sells her final quote.
‘Suicide is man’s way of telling God, ‘You can’t fire me – I quit!’ Bill Maher
Dr. Terrence Sells was laughing as he left.
Stella Stone
Few knew Stella Stone’s actual surname of Cosgrove. Cosgrove became Stone when the teenaged Stella won her first major beauty contest and became Miss Wyoming. She would soon follow the well-traveled path to Hollywood and have the standard 13-year career of bit parts and occasional starring roles in horror movies.
Stella smoked, drank and partied throughout her twenties. Roles of any kind ended when she entered her thirtieth year. Lines around the eyes and a slight puffiness in her cheeks added a subtle hardness to her features. Her time in the sunshine of Hollywood was over.
Her beauty was gone but Stella was still attractive, and with the practiced dexterity she’d learned in her nocturnal wanderings throughout the morass of sexual athleticism in the City of Angels, Stella became Christina. She’d studied and practiced every pleasure giving sexual activity known to humanity. Some came to Christina with sexual afflictions and left magically healed. Some came sexually whole and left awash in the memory of pleasure.
The name Stella Stone had never reached the rarified air shared by executives of major movie studios. Her success as Christina far exceeded her middling career as an actress.
Her new name was never more than a whisper and was politely shared among both sexes within the film industry. Through messages passed in hushed tones, many of these men and women became aware of Christina!
There was never a link from Stella Stone to Christina.
Her work was performed with minimal attire. She wore a mask to obscure her face. In the many years following her thirty-third year, no one ever recognized her as Stella Stone.
Her practice as a gifted woman of all things sexual was not unique to Hollywood. Many women had preceded her. Some had become well-known and their notoriety led to a list that diminished in direct proportion to their names becoming known among their peers.
Christina practiced an acumen that made each of her clients anonymous. Even if, in some way, she knew the identity of a client, he or she was anonymous. It was Christina’s way of practicing discretion.
Her clients wore no veils but to Christina they were veiled; not disembodied but without a recognizable presence! Her discipline of pleasure was extreme and always in place. They had names outside Christina’s palace of pleasure but inside, they were bodies given over to Christina’s art form.
She enjoyed her work and her clientele list grew to include men and women of wealth from all parts of the country. After reaching her late thirties, Christina began to give her attention to those patrons capable of paying her extraordinarily large amounts. She lessened the numbers on her client list. There were hints, barely noticeable, of a loss of strength. Soon it would become obvious to her clients. She exercised vigorously in an attempt to rebuild the muscle tone in her arms and legs. The exercise, while making her stronger, decreased the smooth lines of her physical form. As the problems with her strength and physical form increased, Stella came to accept that her lucrative role as Christina would soon end.
She had become weary, troubled. Age had become her enemy. Her physical acumen had begun to fail. The magical gifts, once available to her and thus to others, began to weaken. But only Stella was aware of these initial changes. She knew others would soon sense the nuance of change, and the perfection she was innately proud of—would turn to humiliation.
She confided in Anson Forrester, a former client and now a close friend. Forrester suspected Christina would find it difficult to leave the excitement of her former life behind. To assuage the lifestyle change he suggested she follow him to Spurlock. And as a buffer to the shock of downgrading from Christina to Stella Stone, he offered her an executive position within Casino Matabatorium.
She was secure financially and, in addition to the malady of her left-hand, the excitement of her life as Christina had begun to wane. It was time for a change, a slower pace! Forrester’s offer of a position within his casino was something she would consider. But what of Spurlock, Washington? Could she adjust to small-town existence after her three decades of craziness in the Los Angeles jungle?
‘Well, if I can successfully become Stella Stone again—after being Christina, adjusting to Spurlock should be a pleasant walk through a rose garden. Hadn’t Marlon Brando and Wally Cox been roommates before they were movie stars? Contrast can be a good thing!’
She visited Spurlock and the surrounding beauty captured her. The quiet, solitude was an immense departure from her former existence as Christina. She immediately began searching for a place to live and settled on a luxurious condominium in a gated-community.
She returned to Los Angeles and packed her personal belongings. What she didn’t take with her she gave to a charitable organization. Christina then took a flight to the State of Washington, and became once again, Stella Stone.
Guy Bertoni
Progression toward the casino entrance was slow and laborious for Guy Bertoni. He’d made this short journey many times and with each labored stride he remembered another time in his life when his movements were fluid, smooth. He remembered the brief but electrical moments when easily attained young women were eager to share his celebrity for just a few minutes, or an hour. He’d roamed a couple of major-league outfields spending ten years as a utility outfielder for the Seattle Mariners. A last cup of coffee with the Reds and then a final trade to the White Sox. He was nearing the end of his career as a major leaguer.
In past days Bertoni had been svelte, muscled and devilishly handsome; he’d enjoyed the women and the lifestyle of a major league ballplayer. But that lifestyle was curtailed by his inability to hit a curve ball. Good field, no hit they called Guy Bertoni. His sojourn with the White Sox ended when he failed to hit above the Mendoza line. He played a couple more seasons in Triple A but never hit above .210. He was in his early thirties when he was released for the last time. The belly had begun to hang over his belt and, in his final minor league years, his face was lined from the late-night travels to different small-town ballparks.
The spark, the excitement didn’t end all at once but, finally it was over. No more fielding of dying quails, no more flailing at unhittable curve balls. He left the game with a substantial bank account, one that he watched over carefully.
He worked construction, tended bar, enjoyed the occasional one-night stand. But the years went by and the belly continued to protrude and the lines became deeper, the hair thinned and suddenly he looked ten years older than his actual age of forty-one. The early years of chasing down all of those long fly balls, and diving headlong to catch line drives before they touched the ground, had taken their toll. His gait now was slow and he favored his left leg. He spent those final minor league seasons in Tacoma, Washington playing for the Tacoma Rainiers. In the last year of his contract with Tacoma, he discovered gambling as a way of passing his leisure time. His favorite casino became Casino Mastabatorium. One visit and he was captured! The atmosphere was positive, upbeat and exciting. He returned often.
On another day when Guy Bertoni walked haltingly toward the entrance to Casino Mastabatorium he began to think about his future. His health and his physical appearance concerned him. He’d gained weight and his left knee had become stiff and painful. He experienced shortness of breath when he walked more than 100 feet. Having been the athlete of his younger years, he’d envisioned himself as a better physical specimen in his middle years. The ball playing was long over with. All those games, all those cities and all those women; it was time for a change. He wanted a long-term relationship and he had a prospect in mind to have that relationship with.
But his appearance had to change. He needed to take off the weight, gain some stamina and become sartorial! Recapture some of that elan of the younger Guy Bertoni and then he’d make a run at the thirtyish blackjack dealer, the one with the knowing, confident good looks about her!
Feelings for a woman he’d never met? Bertoni had watched her deal her cards. He’d heard the salty, earthy give and take between Lisa Tando and her Blackjack obsessed visitors! He didn’t know her yet but he was interested in knowing her. And he had a plan!
To prepare to meet the comely blackjack dealer, he joined a gym and worked under a physical trainer. The excess weight came off in a couple of months. The lines in his face were not that easy until he realized their origin was from erratic sleep patterns. He stopped watching television until 3 in the morning three times a week before going to bed. He began to retire each evening between 11:30 and 12: P.M. The thinning hair? He shaved his head and discovered a perfectly rounded scalp beneath the sparse fuzz remaining at his hairline.
His next step in his preparation to meet the thirtyish Lisa Tando was to buy a copy of Basic Strategy: Blackjack. Many of the stratagems in the book were complex. He studied them over and over again until each move became second nature. Splitting cards, doubling down, when to hit and when to stay; he became familiar with each nuance that might arise and what action to take that would ultimately create a positive result. Learning basic strategy assured him of reducing the house advantage to a minimum of three percent.
Ten days of intense study was all Bertoni needed to learn Basic Strategy: Blackjack! He memorized all of the basic rules and tested what he’d learned over and over until he made the right decisions without having to think about it. He didn’t split 10’s, he didn’t take hits when the dealer had between a 3 and a 6 showing, and always followed the other subtlety nuanced rules allowing him to appear to be an excellent basic strategy player. Successful decisions, smart play and the ultimate respect that followed—might lead Lisa Tando to consider an interest in this handsome and trim man beyond the realm of blackjack!
A Home Run!
Lisa Tando was aware of the bald but handsome man passing her table from time to time. After asking around, she’d learned that he was not a blackjack player. More of a slots guy! Lisa was aware of the 2 or 3 seconds his eyes played upon her as he passed her table. She was usually fully focused on dealing but her table was not always full and the small amount of time a player needed to make a decision gave Lisa a few seconds to view her surroundings. He was interested! When would the handsome ex-ballplayer act on his interest? When would he be ready to play a few hands?
Finally, after a brief absence of over a week, he appeared. He stood behind a woman seated in the fourth chair of Lisa Tando’s table. Unobtrusive, he watched as the woman asked for a card by brushing the cards in her hand on the table or, if she did not want a card, slipping the two cards under her wager. Adept, practiced, Bertoni watched as the woman competed with Tando by taking cards or standing and hoping the dealer would break. Tando was aware of Bertoni’s presence in the background but simply continued dealing to her players without any obvious notice of him. After four straight losing hands the woman Bertoni was watching smiled at the dealer and said, ‘You’re too good for me!’ She tipped LIsa three dollars and left the table.
Bertoni, without fanfare of any kind, immediately took her seat.
Lisa thought to herself, ‘I’ve been waiting, Cowboy—pony up!’
But what she actually said when her new customer handed her a $100 bill was, ‘Welcome and good luck!’ She smiled and gave him his chips. Exchanges between players and an occasional riposte from Tando followed. The new player played his hands without comment—and he won! He had a streak of 4 wins playing $25 a hand. He doubled down with 11 against a 5 and won that hand too. He passed Tando a $25 chip, smiled and, without saying anything, he left the table.
He would be back with blackjack as a secondary reason for his return.
Bertoni did return to Lisa’s table frequently over the next few weeks. With each visit Lisa, in her inimitable way, learned a great deal about Guy Bertoni! As she was learning a great deal about Bertoni, he was learning little about her. But he was even more impressed with her ability to trade witticisms with both the refined and the disheveled, and she obviously enjoyed the repartee with both; the earthy humor of the woman made her even more attractive. For Bertoni it was love! But apart from her jocular give and take at the Blackjack table, he knew virtually nothing about her.
That would change soon!
Forrester Researches Bertoni
Anson Forrester was aware; his time was coming. He was seventy-eight years old and he needed to prepare his daughter for her future role as his replacement. He’d made certain that Lisa learned the intricacies of all the table games. She was no longer just a Blackjack dealer. She was knowledgeable, somewhat war-hardened from her teen years on the streets. But for many reasons, Forrester knew she needed a man, a partner to complement her; the right man!
Security surveillance from the camera room above the casino floor allowed Forrester to observe the kindling of mutual interest between the ex-ball player and his daughter Lisa. He’d watched as Bertoni charmed his daughter with light humor and self-deprecation. He saw Lisa respond with subtle sarcasm disguising her awareness that the handsome ex-major leaguer was flirting with her.
During the beginning stages of the romance between Lisa and Bertoni, Forrester had taken the time to research Bertoni’s past. He discovered that Bertoni had earned a Master’s Degree in Business by returning to USC during the first 3 off seasons of his baseball career prior to reaching the major leagues. Forrester needed to know if his after-hours playing was restricted to the casual entertainment of gambling; he hired a private detective to find out. The detective, after ten days of surveillance and another 3 days of computer tracking, revealed no women other than a cleaning lady who visited every Thursday. And criminally? Not even a traffic ticket!
Bertoni and Tando: A Night to Remember
Bertoni’s goal was to learn as much as he could about Lisa Tando on their first dinner date. He was casual, careful not to seem as if he was prying.
Lisa, comfortable in her surroundings, told him everything about her troubled teen years; the loss of her mother when she was fifteen, leaving the affluence she’d grown up enjoying, and the unique freedom her father allowed her during this wild child period of time. She told him, ‘I was on my own during those years.’
She returned home on occasion but soon left again. Her father gave her nothing when she left, not money, not a car or food; just admonished her to be careful.
She told Bertoni about her short-lived marriage and how it ended.
Bertoni, as he listened to the emotional turmoil Lisa had gone through, comparing her adolescence to his, felt actual pain, knowing his normalcy, his athleticism, had spared him a lot of misery.
She went on to describe the years of menial jobs; a gradual lessening of drug use. And better choices due to experience and maturity. And finally, a return home to her father. She didn’t apologize to her father for all of the angst her restless years had caused him. For Anson Forrester’s part, he simply accepted the new Lisa and embraced her well-earned maturity.
For good reasons, Lisa, with practiced subtlety, avoided telling Bertoni anything that was relevant about her father.
Bertoni asked how she had come to be a Blackjack dealer at Casino Mastabatrorium?
She knew that the time when she would have to tell Bertoni the complete truth about Anson Forrester, was approaching. Her hesitance was simply explained. How would he handle it? He thought she was living on a small minimum wage and tips! Her father intended to gift the casino to her without any financial encumbrances at all.
In just months she would be a millionairess many times over.
After he was told, would he still feel the same way about her? Would he feel deceived? Would he view her circumstances as an opportunity? Would he be willing to put that Masters he’d earned in Business to work? Those questions were the good reasons to explain why she hadn’t told him yet.
Was Bertoni the kind of man who would see her circumstances as a ready-made playground complete with the woman he wanted and an inexhaustible mountain of money to play with. She thought she knew! But did she?
Immediately after she and Bertoni had begun to see each other, she had an in-depth conversation about the potential dilemma. With what he’d learned through his research of Bertoni, Anson told his daughter that he believed Guy Bertoni was of excellent character. He told her he believed the weaknesses of Bertoni’s early manhood were behind him. ‘Take a chance!’ he said.
She would, soon! There was no avoiding it.
Tando
There was so much to consider. Had Guy ever given a thought to her bank account? If he had he probably would estimate her balance at around sixteen hundred dollars. Blackjack dealers weren’t considered to be rich! Did he care whether she had more than sixteen hundred dollars in her account? She didn’t think he cared! He gave her no reason to think he cared. He occasionally made reference to his own savings from his playing days, $250 to $300,000. He wasn’t working but Lisa was aware of his MA Business Degree. She knew he could find a good paying job any time he wanted to. He’d said so several times.
She was concerned that he would react badly when she finally told him the reality of her relationship with the casino and Anson Forrester, her father. She wondered? Would he understand why she hadn’t told him? Would her potential circumstances as a millionairess many times over emasculate him?
She was meeting Bertoni in the casino lounge at nine o’clock. Yes, she was tough! She’d been down some bad roads! But the strength of her feelings for Guy Bertoni made her vulnerable, all the way to her soul. He’d revealed everything about himself to her. She’d withheld her father’s name! She’d been vague and misleading about other substantial circumstances taking place in and around her.
She’d been waiting for someone like Guy Bertoni to enter her life. She loved him!
She asked herself, ‘Could good fortune—coming from another direction, dictate the loss of her soulmate?
Bertoni
He’d become a different person! Justifiably proud of his former physical presence; he had not been proud of his lifestyle when he was not between the lines. He’d changed some things. She’d changed other things. Life was different for Bertoni now. His reality couldn’t be if it did not include the reality of Lisa Tando. Did she know that? They were meeting in the lounge at 9 o’clock. He knew this meeting was not casual entertainment. She had something to tell him; something heavy.
Her ability to be less than definitive about aspects of her past was virtually an art form. Was she going to clarify vagaries not made clear about her past? If so, Bertoni could put her mind at ease immediately. He didn’t care! If she was concerned financially, she could rest easy. He didn’t care!
Whatever it was would never lessen what he felt for her. Nothing in her past or future could change his need to be with Lisa Tando for the rest of his life! He was certain she felt just as strongly about him. He looked forward to this meeting. Whatever it was, huge or small, they would clear the path to their future together.
They were meant to be together. Each had said so!
He looked forward to the meeting. Afterward, they would embrace and walk into that future arm in arm, smiling! She was the one!
Tando/Bertoni Reveal
He entered the lounge just a few minutes after nine smiling. Lisa rose from the booth and they embraced.
He said, ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day! You look great!’
She did look good, she always looked good but Lisa decided to be deprecating, ‘I have to make an effort to look good for the best athlete in my life! I cheated a little! I freshened up a bit after my shift.’ She laughed, ‘New clothes, fresh makeup and I lost ten pounds.’
He said, ‘All that in ten minutes after work? You’re incredible!’
‘I have my ways!’ she said.
Bertoni was aware of the tension; it was in her eyes, her smile was forced and gone too soon.
He ordered his usual drink. A bit of small talk was exchanged between them while they were waiting for the server to deliver his rum and coke.
He sensed that Lisa was not as relaxed as she usually was. That was a rare occurrence for Lisa. He asked, ‘Are you okay? You seem just a bit off center. Is something bothering you?’
‘You ae perceptive, aren’t you? She hesitated then said, ‘Yes, Guy, there is something I need to talk to you about.’
She smiled, wanting to decrease the tension, and said, now laughing, ‘I’m pregnant!’
Her laughter gave her away. She was joking.
He laughed too! ‘Well, let’s choose names!’
When the laughter subsided, she said, ‘I need to assure you of something and I need your assurance in return. Serious stuff, huh?’
He said, ‘This is beginning to sound like a couple of teenagers discussing their new found feelings for each other. Hey, so far, it’s kinda fun.’
‘I wish it could continue as fun but it’s going to get serious! I apologize!’
The apology wasn’t necessary! Or he hoped what she had to say wouldn’t necessitate an apology. He would know soon.
She took a deep breath to eliminate some of the tension. Was her confidence in this man justified? Was she right about him? Was her father right about him?
Again, she tried to lighten the mood. ‘Am I just the last in a long line of Blackjack dealers you’ve seduced?’
She was hesitating, somewhat unsure of how to proceed. Bertoni was fully aware of her reluctance to continue. He waited and finally she began.
‘Guy, I love you! Do you feel the same way about me?’
‘I’ve told you I love you many times! You know I do!’
‘I know. I just need that reassurance before I tell you something! I haven’t been fully honest with you.’
Her voice had lowered but the tension, the hesitance was there. She asked, ‘Do you know the name of the man who owns this casino?’
‘Vaguely. I believe it’s Forrester.’
‘Yes, his name is Forrester! Anson Forrester! He is the owner of this casino.’ I am Anson Forrester’s daughter.
Bertoni was silent for a moment, then, ‘Your father is the owner of this casino?’
‘Yes.’ She waited.
More silence from Bertoni!
Then, ‘Jesus! And you didn’t tell me? For God’s sake Lisa! Why didn’t you tell me?’ Somewhat confused, Bertoni quickly sorted his feelings. He didn’t care that her father was the owner of the casino. What hurt him was what seemed to be a betrayal on her part for not telling him! Why would she withhold such huge information from him?
Another hesitation from Lisa.
‘I want to make this clear to you, Guy! I believe my reasons were good!
He had a scornful look on his face. His earlier decision that nothing would stand in the way of their relationship, became obscure, questionable. What was coming next? How would she explain?
‘Before we’d ever met, I was aware of you as you passed by my table. It was obvious; you were passing by more than was necessary. It was obvious that you were sort of measuring me, kind of a veiled flirtation process. I liked your looks! I liked that you weren’t overt—unlike most guys, your flirting was easily recognized, but was—well, veiled. Soft. Nice. I liked it! I knew it would take some time but I was certain you would get around to playing some hands at my table. And you did! What a lift it was when it happened! Finally!’
‘You weren’t pushy, you took your time. No pressure—and then you asked me out—and here we are!
‘I’m convinced that if I had told you I was the casino owner’s daughter, we would not be here today. I would have been suspicious that you were pursuing me because of my relationship to my father! I didn’t know you! I didn’t know your character! I would have been suspicious of any man who knew my circumstances. I wanted to be sure there were no ulterior motives. I had to be sure! And now I am! I know it’s me and not my, admittedly, favorable circumstances!
‘Please understand!’ We depend on your understanding!’ She prayed for his understanding! She hoped for a smile and the words, ‘I understand.’
He didn’t smile and he didn’t say he understood. He reached for a napkin and removed a pen from an inside coat pocket and began to write on the napkin.
He asked, ‘What is your father’s first name
When finished, he handed it to her.
Written on the napkin was, to clarify to Lisa Tando and ‘Anson Forrester, owner of Casino Mastabatorium:
Until what is written here can be put down in formalized legal terms, let what is written on this napkin suffice:
My name is Guy Bertoni. Let it be known that I hereby give up any claim to any part of Casino
Mastabatorium prior to or after my marriage to Lisa Tando.
My marriage (to Lisa Tando), divorce (from Lisa Tando (if a divorce should occur) or death will not impact/
alter my above written intent to never own any part of Casino Mastabatorium.
Should Anson Forrester and Lisa Tando predecease me, any portion of Casino Mastabatorium that would
accrue to me (Guy Bertoni) will be given to a worthy charitable cause to be named by either Lisa Tando or
Anson Forrester.
The rudimentary document was then signed by Guy and witnessed by the server!
He handed it to Lisa Tando and said, ‘Let’s get married!’ After reading it she kissed him and repeated, ‘Let’s get married!’
‘But first I want to meet your father!’
Guy Bertoni met Anson Forrester and Bertoni became the son Forrester never had.
The casino became the property of Lisa Tando seven months into the future when Anson Forrester turned eighty years old. Added to the terms written above was an addendum stating that Guy Bertoni would have an executive position within Casino Mastabatorium in any and all years that he was married to Lisa Bertoni. The position would pay him $100,000 annually.
All was well at Casino Mastabatorium!
Tando/Bertoni Reveal
They were meeting that evening after Lisa finished her shift at nine o’clock. Lisa would finally reveal her relationship with casino owner, her father, Anson Forrester
Tando and Bertoni had been dating for more than two months. Bertoni’s physical and emotional attraction for Lisa had been there from the beginning. Lisa had felt an initial spark immediately; the spark was now a flame, she loved him!
Lisa knew Guy never had a thought about her bank account. He had a nice nest egg from his playing days and an MA Degree in business if it was required.
Now what? She was soon to be a wealthy woman. She’d never hinted that her circumstances reflected any income apart from her work as a Blackjack dealer. She didn’t want her potential wealth to have any sway, positive or negative, regarding Bertoni’s emotional attachment to her.
Would he be offended because she had not told him of her relationship to Anson Forrester?
Again, there was no avoiding it! Tonight, she would tell him and hope for the best.
He entered the lounge just a few minutes after nine smiling. Lisa rose from the booth and they embraced.
He said, ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day! You look great!’
‘I have to make an effort to look good for the best athlete in my life! I cheated a little! I freshened up a bit after my shift.’ She laughed, ‘New clothes, fresh makeup and I lost ten pounds.’
He said, ‘All that in ten minutes after work? You’re incredible!’
‘I have my ways!’ she said.
He ordered his usual drink, a rum and coke. A bit of small talk was exchanged between them while they were waiting for the server to deliver his drink.
Bertoni sensed that Lisa was as relaxed as she usually was. That was a rare occurrence for Lisa. He asked, ‘Are you okay? You seem just a bit off center. Is something bothering you?’
‘You ae perceptive, aren’t you? She hesitated then said, ‘Yes, Guy, there is something I need to talk to you about.’ She smiled, wanting to decrease the tension, and said, now laughing, ‘I’m pregnant!’
The laughter ensured that she was joking. He laughed too! ‘Well, let’s choose names!’
After the laughter subsided, she said, ‘There is something serious I need to discuss with you, but first I need to assure you of something and I need your assurance in return. Serious stuff, huh?’
He said, ‘Yes, this is beginning to sound like a couple of teenagers discussing their new found feelings for each other. Hey, so far, it’s kinda fun.’
‘Well, I wish it could continue as fun but it’s going to get serious! I apologize!’
She followed with, ‘Guy, I love you! Do you feel the same way about me?’
‘I’ve told you I love you many times! You know I do!’
‘I know you have. I just need that reassurance before I tell you something you need to know.’ Her voice had lowered but he heard the tension in her voice.
She asked, ‘Do you know the name of the man who owns this casino?’
He hesitated and the, ‘Vaguely. I believe it’s Forrester.’
‘I apologize! I’ve never revealed what my name was before my abbreviated marriage. My maiden name was Forrester. I am Anson Forrester’s daughter. He is the owner of this casino.’
Bertoni was silent for a moment, then, ‘Your father is the owner of this casino?’
‘Yes.’
More silence from Bertoni!
‘Jesus! And you didn’t tell me? For God’s sake Lisa! Why didn’t you tell me?’
Another hesitation from Lisa. ‘I want to make this clear to you, Guy! I believe my reasons were good! Hopefully, you’ll agree! Be patient until you understand my reasoning!
It was obvious to Lisa that Guy was upset. He had a scornful look on his face.
‘Before we’d ever met, I was aware of you as you passed by my table. It was obvious that you were passing by more than was necessary. It was obvious that you were sort of measuring me, kind of a veiled flirtation process. I liked your looks! I liked that you weren’t overt—unlike most guys your flirting was easily recognized, but was, well veiled. Soft. Nice. I liked it!
‘I knew it would take some time but I was certain you would get around to playing some hands at my table. And you did! What a lift it was when it happened! Finally! You weren’t pushy, you took your time. No pressure—and then you asked me out—and here we are!’
‘I’m convinced that if I had told you I was the casino owner’s daughter, we would not be here today. I would have been suspicious that you were pursuing me because of relationship to my father! As I would have been suspicious of any man who knew my circumstances. I wanted to be sure there were no ulterior motives. I didn’t know you! I didn’t know your character! I had to be sure! And now I am! I know it’s me and not my, admittedly, favorable circumstances! Please understand!’
Anna Badham
Anna was thirty-six, never married, never in a relationship of any kind. She was well-acquainted with the second word of this new casino’s name. The solitary activity implied in the word Mastabatorium had served her well for the previous twenty-five years of her life. Now she was determined to expand her experience through an encounter with a man. She’d chosen an unlikely place to quietly seek a liaison that would liberate her from the word so embarrassing to her.
She suspected that a man could look at her once and know!
She was haunted by the word.
Virgin!
She never imagined herself to be more than she was. She saw herself as insecure, lacking composure, withdrawn, virtually invisible. However, blooming late as they say, applying makeup, choosing new styles of clothes, clothes that revealed a bit more skin; her physical appearance had changed; she had blossomed. While not approaching hot she had begun to notice elongated glances from males in random places.
Her courage bolstered, she decided to go where people gathered in circumstances where conversations could begin comfortably. Hence, not knowing the advanced age range of the gamers at Casino Mastabatorium—she chose to seek her release from the act implied within the casino’s name.
With her usually forbidding countenance replaced with the hint of a smile, she slowly began threading her way through serpentine paths strategically orchestrated to capture attention. She ignored the machines while searching for men of a certain appearance. Late thirties, early forties, slender, well-dressed and free of tattoos.
Anna was on a mission she was not prepared for. But the right man could lead the way and she would gain experience. Anson Forrester had provided 3 stories of hotel rooms above the casino. Anna Badham had reserved one of those rooms for two nights. She would likely need the room for just the one night, given her determination to win as all the signage within the casino said she would.
And there he was! Not slender but not heavy either. Not late thirties but early thirties. Wearing glasses and the personification of innocuous. No visible tattoos! She smiled as she inserted her twenty-dollar bill into the machine next to him. Lines connected and four dollars in credits were added to the twenty dollars already in the machine.
“Well, aren’t you the lucky one!” he said.
Anna replied, “Not always!” She then looked over at the man playing next to her. Inspired with confidence based on his appearance, she smiled at the man. Not in a flirtatious way. Just an innocent smile but her words had intent as she held the smile.
“But I’m hoping I will get lucky tonight.” He held her gaze for just a moment then looked away.
Anna, bereft of what it took to play the game, to do the preliminary dance required before both understood the objective, said, “I have a room upstairs! Would you like to go there with me?”
He hesitated, somewhat shocked. He introduced himself. “My name is Mark!” He smiled, “That is quite the offer! Can I trust you to behave yourself?”
Feeling just a little more comfortable, Anna said, “Maybe! Maybe not! You aren’t dangerous, are you?”
“No, are you?”
“No, not at all! But I owe you an explanation and I’ll give it to you over a couple of glasses of wine in my room. I know this is unusual but, I can assure you, there is nothing sinister going on. I am a woman with a mission and I believe you’re the perfect man to help me accomplish my simple goal.
Then it occurred to her! ‘Are you married? Is your wife just around the corner at another machine?’
“No, no wife. No girlfriend and a glass of wine and a bit of conversation sounds good. I believe I can guess the goal! At least I’m hoping I can guess the goal.”
Anna, nonplussed, tried her hand at humor. “We’ll start with an arm-wrestling contest!”
He laughed. “Let’s find an elevator!”
This encounter needs to end in marital commitment or commitment of some kind…elaborate!
Paul Sanders
He was everyman! Except he wasn’t! Paul Sanders had grown up poor. He was raised kindly by his mother and not so kindly by a succession of stepfathers.
His strength during all of those formative years was coping. He walked the line! Adhering to rules, allowing his mother and her verbally abusive third husband to work out their own problems, Paul played some sports, completed his schoolwork as best he could and ignored the rants and rages in the small home with two feuding adults.
After completing two years of community college Paul began to use menial clerical jobs as stepping stones, eventually he became an office manager. With a staff of fourteen under his direction, he was content to do his work well and had no desire to achieve a higher executive position. He spent his twenties working, buying a home and dating a few attractive women. For Paul, long-term relationships were few. He was open to marriage but just hadn’t found the right one.
For mindless recreation he gambled a little. Low stakes, slots mostly.
His favorite gambling establishment was Casino Mastabatorium. He didn’t care that the average age of the casino’s customer was sixty-five or more; he wasn’t there to find a relationship. He just wanted a few hours of mindless entertainment.
And then he met Anna Badham!
Badham/Sanders
Paul Sanders had never been aggressive. He waited, always, for that green light. He was that nice-looking everyman! He was never without female companionship and occasionally dated two or three women at a time. Over the years, the office manager had several long-term relationships but always, in the background, there were those two or three available by phone whenever he chose to call them. Life was good for Paul!
Life got better when he met Anna Badham!
Paul was a small stakes gambler. His casino of choice was Casino Mastabatorium. He played slots and a little Blackjack. His slots game of choice was Lucky Lemmings and invariably, a woman would sit at the Lemmings machine next to his. Rarely was there any conversation as each player became engrossed in the machine’s journey to a bonus round. But, occasionally, his female at the neighboring machine would begin an exchange with Paul, and he would respond.
It was that way with Anna Badham! Except the nature of her interaction with Paul was different than he’d ever heard before!
The third sentence out of her mouth was, “But I’m hoping I will get lucky tonight.” Paul, always attentive for that green light, immediately understood the veiled intent of her words. Then, “I have a room upstairs! Would you like to go there with me?”
The hesitation, previously mentioned, an immediate assessment of her physical features determined a stunning presence, conservatively dressed and an absence of what concerned him; there was no hint of the craziness he was sure would be there. She appeared normal but then, who knows? Roughly mid-thirties, well-proportioned.
Paul’s gambling was slots, not women. But this time all the odds seemed to be in his favor. They exchanged first names and, at Paul’s suggestion, they went looking for an elevator. The lift was short to the second floor and Room 207. Anna had promised to explain and once inside Room 207 they sat down on the bed.
“I’m a virgin! I’m hoping, Paul, that you are what you appear to be! A nice guy! I was immediately attracted to you not because you look harmless because no man is harmless. I was attracted to you because you appear to blend a sexual look with that boy next door appearance—after the boy next door has grown up! Hmm…does that equate to harmless? I’m unsure of that!
Paul didn’t interrupt but he still didn’t fully understand his role? Was he about to be used? He knew absolutely that Anna’s intent was to use him but, was her intent positive. If he agreed, would Anna have achieved a positive result?
She explained further—exhibiting what Paul had discerned earlier, a finely tuned sense of humor, “No, I haven’t been in a nunnery. My circumstances were close to those of a nunnery. My chances of ridding myself of my virginal status were better than where I was!
My mother, Alice, was wonderful raising me to the age of eighteen. When I was eighteen she fell ill with not one but four medical issues. She required my presence twenty-four hours a day for those eighteen years. I gave her what she had given me, eighteen years given freely, without regret.
I had zero exposure to men. Well doctors and delivery boys—but that was it! My mother passed three weeks ago, and here I am, overly burdened and looking for a nice guy! I’m hoping, Paul, that you are that boy next door grown up—and will agree to help me lift the burden!”
“I will!’ He added, ‘And I’ll do it with total concern for your” and here he hesitated because he didn’t know what to say next; finally, he finished with “sense of decorum.” Awkward words but he was in an awkward situation.
He wanted to put Anna at ease!
And Anna wanted her boy next door to be at ease too!
‘We’ll get through it! And thank you! Paul had never been thanked before but was aware enough to not say, ‘My pleasure!’
Paul knew about slow, gentle and awareness! He took his time and Anna responded accordingly. He prepared her physically and then, verbally in low volume. The process was alternately pleasurable and painful for Anna but pleasantly the pleasure was greater than the pain.
Afterward there was no urgency to get dressed! Neither seemed self-conscious about their nakedness. They were totally comfortable! No expiation for Anna and Paul.
So involved in his journey to a successful conclusion, Paul had not taken a second look at his partner. When he did, he again saw that she was gorgeous, but not in a hot way, not movie star gorgeous; she was wholesome gorgeous in the way a television sit-com mom would be gorgeous. He could imagine her in a house-dress making coffee and breakfast. He sensed that there was something different about Anna, something other than her sexuality. Internally, he felt the need to stay in Room 207 and protect Anna! From what? She was safe! There was nothing threatening her! But, the need to stay, the need to give her comfort, to protect her was somewhere in the recesses of his soul. And stay he would, if she would let him.
This was the unusual beginning of a long-term commitment between Paul and Anna! Their marriage would result in three children, two boys and a girl. Paul never looked for green lights again and Anna— one grown up boy next door was everything she needed.
They would revisit Casino Mastabatorium from time to time and always cherished the fond memories!
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