Lennie And Samantha Ch 03

Please read chapters 1 and 2 first or this won't make much sense. Sorry for the delay releasing new chapters, I guess it takes longer than I thought to get approved. Understandable because there are so many new stories here every day. I will release the next chapter as soon as I see the previous one posted.

A big thanks for your support and feel free to leave a comment. Feed back is definitely appreciated, especially being new to this.

****

She said "a few days." That would have meant returning Thursday or Friday. Here is was, early Saturday night, and not even a text. Lennie's attitude had definitely soured from the Tuesday evening before. Earlier in the afternoon he had left a message on her phone. "Cindy, I've been thinking about you, please call me when you get this, take care sweetie." Then he realized he called Cindy's phone, but she was Samantha since Wednesday morning, not Cindy, and wouldn't get the message.

It was like that damned elephant in the room just shit on him. He wanted to get an intelligent perspective on his problem. And he wanted to drink, heavily. 'Looks like another trip to Goldfinch's', he reasoned. He needed a worthy analysis, and that meant talking with Greg.

It was still early and the crowd was sparse. There were no conventions in town. It wasn't a bar with live music or entertainment except for a piano player with a baby grand on the weekends that wouldn't start for another hour, so it stayed fairly slow.

"Greg, you have to help me. I'm so messed up right now."

Greg looked at his true friend. "Let me guess, woman problems, Lennie?" It was like Greg could read minds. No, he couldn't read minds, only faces and body language.

"Yeah. I've been seeing Samantha." Lennie knew not to use Cindy's real name.

"Wait, I didn't think you were much for that kind of girl, Lennie. I know you have the money, but....." Then Greg realized the truth. He wasn't the smartest bartender in Seattle for nothing. Thirty years, and he could read faces like others read the sports section of the Seattle Times.

"You're not "dating" her", using his fingers to make air quotes, "you're dating her, like for real, right?"

Lennie nodded. Nothing came out of his mouth. His puppy dog eyes told Greg everything he needed to know. He leaned over the bar toward Lennie, and whispered, "Can we talk frankly?"

"Why do you think I'm here, Greg? Oh, and before I forget, can you call over and reserve me a room? I'm getting hammered tonight. No port for me, pour me a Buffalo Trace. Make it a double, on the rocks."

Greg dropped a single large chunk of ice in a glass, pouring and serving the smooth Kentucky bourbon to his friend. Lennie said in a low voice, "Look, you know what she does for work, right?" Greg nodded silently.

"How can I get closer to her, when I know she is with other men, doing what she does? Look, I know how fucking stupid I must look here. I'm dating one of the most expensive escorts in Seattle, probably the West Coast, who says she's crazy for me and I'm crazy about her. She knows things about me that I don't even know about myself. She has this special way to look inside me that opens up my heart. I never thought I would ever feel this way again."

Greg nodded. "Ahh, love. Doesn't matter how young or old you are, when it hits, it hits. Don't deny your own feelings. Look, there are issues that you two have to work out, but let's start with the basics. She hasn't lied to you or purposely misled you, has she?"

"No, Greg. That's just it, she has been honest about it, completely honest, but never once tried to rub it in my face. I think she knows how I feel about it and she is having her own issues how to deal with it or more like dealing with me, while she does what she is good at. I don't want to look like some stupid remake of Pretty Woman, when Richard Gere saves Julia Roberts, and they live happily ever after. It's chickenshit on my part, I knew what she did that first evening I met her. You know, it was here at your bar."

Greg nodded and recalled that evening well. "Yep, she's a Cosmo girl." Greg categorized everyone by their favorite drink. In his mind, what one ordered reflected a bit about who they were. His Cosmopolitans were feminine and classy, just like her.

"Look Lennie, I can't say exactly what you should do. I will tell you that there is one very important thing, and that is communicate with her. Sounds like she is looking to work with you, not work against you. She has her own life and history long before she met you. I'd just say to take her to a place somewhere that you can to not be disturbed, a nice place, and just be honest with her. Try to understand her, beyond what she does. Maybe going down that path first will give her, and you, a better way to talk about what she does. She's a big girl, I think she can work with you as long as you both try."

"Why does she still escort, anyway?", Lennie asked out loud, not necessarily for Greg's benefit. "She owns a Lake Washington waterfront condo in Kirkland worth a few million at least. She has a portfolio of investments in the stock market, millions of dollars worth. That night she was here when we met her, she made twenty grand in 24 hours with two appointments. And then another ten grand the next evening. Geezuz, Greg, that's a lot of fucking money to get laid, you know? People who throw around that kind of coin are in a different league. How can I even compete with their lifestyle?"

"You're kidding, right?" Lennie stared. "Look at yourself, you're worth millions. And with that company you started you'll be backing up the truck to deposit that money in your bank account until you turn senile and forget how to spend it."

Greg paused and stared directly at Lennie. "That's got to be maybe two years, three years tops." He kept a straight face as he delivered the line.

Lennie saw through the senile old man reference and laughed, breaking the tension. "Fuck you, barkeep!", Lennie chuckled as his attitude lightened up. Greg was indeed the finest and smartest bartender he knew.

"Anyway, you're a good guy, and she seems to be a good person in addition to being one of the most beautiful women ever to have graced my bar, so cheer up and think positive. Look it's a corny saying, but my dear departed Granny said it so you'd better not dis' my late Granny, "Where there's the will, there's a way." The question is, do you have the will to work through this with her?"

That was Greg for you, he thought. Always cutting through the BS and getting to what's important. It changed his attitude, and Lennie held up his empty glass and pointed at it to Greg, who was now at the other end of the bar, serving another customer. Tonight, he was going to be a happy drunk and tomorrow a man with a hangover.

When Lennie woke up, his head was pounding. Afternoon sunshine filtered through the window. The clock said 1:16. "Hmmm, this is a hotel bed, I'm downtown", he thought to himself. They knew him so well at the front desk that they just automatically gave him a late checkout. He looked over to the table next to the bed in his room, and there was a bottle of water and two small packs of Tylenol. "Thanks Greg, you da man", he thought to himself. Greg had made sure the water and tablets would be there. Greg knew his customers.

That reminded him, he was going to get Greg and his bride a long vacation week at Rosario resort on Orcas Island in the San Juans. Only accessible by boat or by air, it was a mansion built by an early Seattle mayor who was a rich shipbuilder over a century ago. Now it's a hotel resort with a great chef and deluxe service. And a round trip on a Kenmore Air sea plane, they had those sea planes that took off from Lake Union in Seattle and landed right at the dock in Eastsound. Yeah, Greg will impress his bride of 30 years, Lennie thought. He'd order and pay for the trip later today when he got home.

He reached over and picked up his phone. No calls or texts from her. His attitude soured, but then he remembered what Greg said. Did he did have the will to work it out with her? That got him to thinking. She was worth millions in that condo alone. And she sure can generate a lot of cash, quickly. She had money stashed away, lots of it. So why did she still escort? If it wasn't the money, did she just like to screw strange men? Lennie shuddered. He would have to wait until he saw her next. Why doesn't she call? Ideas in his mind swirled 'round and 'round. Crap, he thought to himself, he sounded like a fucking schoolgirl.

****

It was 8:30 on Sunday night. Lennie hadn't heard anything from Cindy. Not even a text. The void of any communication was eating at his confidence. He was home and intended to stay there instead of going out. The hangover lingered, he needed to eat something. A local bar had great burgers, so instead of driving he walked the mile down the road to a small retail strip. Upon arriving, he sat at the bar. Bob "don't call me Roberto" was the bartender and owner. Seeing Lennie walk in the door, he slid Lennie's favorite draft beer to him as he was sitting down on the bar stool.

Bob had owned the bar for nearly 20 years. It was his life's dream come true. Arriving from Mexico as a kid, working the lettuce and strawberry fields in central California and the hops harvests of the Yakima Valley in Washington, he had later joined the Army for four years, got his green card and later his citizenship. Bob did it the right way, and if you wanted to hear someone swear at the millions coming over the border illegally, just ask him what he thought of uncontrolled immigration. Bob was for anyone that wasn't a thug or a drug dealer to come to America but he was a stickler for doing it legally. He also couldn't understand why Congress and the President refused to write a law for so many years that made sense for all. It didn't matter which side was in power, they all seemed to screw it up royally.

Bob was another exceptional barkeep; he knew his customers like Greg did at his bar. Except Bob poured beer and hard liquor, forget those fruity drinks that Greg made. Nope, Bob was proud he couldn't mix more than the occasional Margarita and he served his whiskies one of two ways, rocks or neat. The beer was ice cold, poured in frozen mugs. The 15 lines that ran the beer from the keg to the tap were cleaned out every month. If a beer didn't sell enough and the keg sat for too long, he would change it out for another brand. The beer always tasted perfect from one of Bob's taps. He took pride in his establishment, and it showed.

"You are looking sad, my friend," Bob said quietly in his accent that revealed where he was originally from. "Tell me, what is wrong?"

Lennie sipped from the frozen beer mug. He liked Bob for so many reasons. "Bob, I'm an idiot. And an old one to boot. I met a beautiful younger woman and am falling for her."

"That sounds like a problem worth having, my friend", Bob answered, a look of curiosity on his face. "There must be more to the story."

"Yes there is." The bar was slow for a Sunday night. Lennie looked left, then right, and leaned forward. "There's no easy way to say this, other than just to say it. She's a high-priced escort."

"Oh my friend, you've told me you see working ladies a few times a year, but you fell for one? You have money to pay for one, but I can't believe you would do that."

"That's just it. I met her at a bar downtown, and I didn't figure it out at first, but she was working and waiting for a client. Afterwards, she came back to the bar, we got into a conversation, she revealed what she did, and then asked

me

out for a date. Not an encounter, but a regular date. She even told me her real name. And oh my, she is so beautiful. Here, look."

Lennie held up his phone and found a picture of her from the day they ate fish and chips at the beach. She was flashing a huge smile while her sunglasses were on the top of her head, the photo revealing her beautiful blue eyes and the curled lockets of long brown hair that framed her face and made Bob do a double take. He flipped his finger across the screen and showed Bob the next two pictures of her body featuring most of her body including her boobs, bare abs, and her legs to the knee.

"Whoa! She looks incredible! How could you not like THAT?"

"That's just it, Bob. She told me up front what she did, and we enjoyed time at the bar anyway. When she asked me out, I thought it was for one of her dates with a client. No, she said she thought I was cute and wanted a normal date."

"You? Cute? Was she wearing thick glasses? Is she blind as a bat?", Bob snickered. Lennie smiled.

"Exactly. What could she see in me? We had a couple of dates, and on our second one between a dancing lesson and dinner, we stopped at her place for her to grab something and I went in. I thought she was going to change her outfit, instead she came out in the raw. Completely nude. And we had some amazing sex. Possibly the best of my life. We never made it do dinner."

"Sounds good so far, my friend."

"And then as I was leaving her place she told me she was going to be out of town for a few days. We both knew what that meant, and it was hard enough for me to think about that. But I expected her back Thursday night or Friday at the latest. Here it is now Sunday evening, and still no contact, no calls, no texts, nothing."

"Ahhh." Bob said nothing as he slightly nodded a few times. "I see your dilemma. You are falling for her, and since she told you up front what she did for a living, you are a dick if you mention you want her to stop and be with you exclusively. Yes, I see your problem. If you knew she was a call girl Lennie, why did you continue to contact her?"

He just looked at the beer taps in front of him, with a hazy look in his eyes. Bob's question was indeed the right one.

A men's over-forty soccer team that finished their match arrived, sitting at four tables on the side as they did every Sunday evening during the summer. Always rowdy but never out of control or intimidating to other customers, their bill was usually equal to the rest of the entire evening's sales. And they were good guys as well. Bob looked at Lennie and said, "Think about that while I serve those guys. I'll be back soon and you're going to answer that."

'Bob was right, how she treated me and what she thought about me was the important thing, and I'm fucking everything up', Lennie sulked. When Bob returned and stared at him, he responded from his heart. "She makes me feel special, like I've never felt before. And she is so kind and fun to be with. She has this way of being engaging no matter what she says. Even though we have only known each other for a few weeks, she makes me feel like I've known her for my entire life. It's like we are together on our own plane of consciousness. I've never experienced anything like it."

Then it hit him. What he didn't like was that he would always have to share. Share the most intimate moments between lovers, except hers were with strangers who paid for her.

"Hmmm", Bob responded. "Yeah, that's love Lennie. You've been hit by the Thunderbolt, and you've got it bad." Bob had been watching old movies and just finished watching the original "Godfather". In it, there was a scene where a young Al Pacino, previously not involved with the family business, had murdered mobsters in New York and hid in Italy with old family relatives. One day he was walking the fields and spotted a young beautiful local woman walking by. He was stunned at her beauty. The bodyguards with him said "you've been hit by the Thunderbolt." Lennie immediately recognized the movie reference and nodded. Robert nailed it.

The delicious cold beer was already nearly empty. Lennie pointed at his mug and Bob pulled another glass from the under counter refrigerator unit and poured him a fresh one. "You know, I've been married now to my only girl for 19 years now. Now if you listen to relationship advice from me, you are stupid. But what has kept Isabella and me together is being able to talk about anything. I hate to sound like one of those women's daytime TV shows, but open communication is the only way you'll get through this."

Lennie stayed until closing time, which was midnight on Sundays. He had five beers and a large burger, leaving two Benjamins on the bar. "SENOR! THAT'S TOO MUCH!" Lennie waved at him as he pushed the door open to leave and make the 20 minute walk home. "Bob, you're advice is worth twice as much. Thank you my friend for being there."

Lennie passed through the doors onto the sidewalk and started his mile walk home. After a couple of blocks or so, a shiny new metallic white Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet convertible with the top up slowed next to him, matching his walking speed. The passenger window came down and a familiar voice yelled, "There you are, I've been looking all over for you!"

"Lori? Is that you?"

"YES, it's ME, Lennie!" she shouted. Hop in and let me give you a ride.'

"No, Lori, I'm just going to walk home, it isn't far. Thanks anyway."

"Lennie, get in my car

now! "

It sounded more like an order than an ask. "I need to be with you tonight!"

"Why, Lori?"

"Just get in and I can explain." Her voice softened to a feminine request. "Please Lennie, hop in."

Lennie didn't want to be with anyone, and figured the easiest way to get rid of her was to comply to her wish. He opened the passenger door and hopped in the vehicle with the smells of leather and new car. It was nice. Really nice. He didn't know it but he was the first person to sit in the passenger seat.

"Nice car, Lori. Now explain."

"Thanks Lennie, I just got it last week. Tell me where to go."

He directed her to turn left at the intersection where she drove about a mile until they were turning into a long driveway with an iron gate. The car stopped at the keypad. Lennie rolled down his window, typed in the code and the gate opened. Lori pulled up to the right side of the circular driveway of the 9,500 sq.ft., recently built three-story home. Following Lennie' direction pointing to the pavement going up the hill to the right, she followed the driveway up the hilly large lot, around the side and up to the front door on the middle level lot that had room for four cars, turning off the engine. It was built on a property just over one acre. The driveway led to the side of the house that stopped in front of the main doors on the second story. All three floors had expansive views of Puget Sound. As it was built on a hilly area, there were no close neighbors and good privacy.

"Nice place Lennie", she said with admiration as she stared at the house. He touched the keypad a few times and the door opened. They walked inside.

"Okay Lori, now explain why you were trying to find me. You don't even live down here in this part of the county."

"Lennie, I'm going to stay with you tonight. All night. Cindy can't be here and she doesn't want you to be alone. She called me earlier this afternoon. She feels bad that she has not been around and asked me to keep you company."

Lennie shook his head with a hurt feeling on his face. "Why would you do that, Lori? That makes no sense. And if it is so important to Cindy, why didn't she call me?"

Lori paused for a moment, and then remembered Cindy told her to be honest about their backgrounds.

"She's out of the country with her best clients and they wanted her to extend her stay. She felt bad that she couldn't be with you this weekend and didn't want you to be alone. I really can't tell you any more details about her, you'll have to ask her yourself. So I'm your bed-warming pinch-hitter, so to speak." She pro-offered a half-smile as she said it.

"Clients? As in plural? Geezuz Lori."

"It's not what you think Lennie. I can't tell you any more than that. You have to hear the details from her. Now let's go sit down and talk."