Dear Ann,
I have a successful teaching career, a decent home in the NYC suburbs, a decent car in the driveway, along with one for my wife and an old "should have traded it years ago" model that my two oldest kids take turns borrowing. I have an excellent retirement plan, plus contribute heavily to an annuity. My wife is also a teacher, with an identical pension plan.
My problem is that I had no spending discipline when younger, I've had to pay ridiculous medical bills for my youngest son who has special needs and significant health issues, and we are struggling to pay college bills for the older kids. I'm 49 years old, and have a good 10-16 years left to teach. A colleague at school recommended you as a whiz who could help me plan my last steps to retirement. Is there hope for me?
Sincerely,
Jon Moore
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Dear Jon,
Of course there is hope for you! You have taken important steps already by ensuring retirement security. Let's meet as soon as possible so I can get some specifics. Most of my clients who are teachers prefer to meet for lunch. Give me a call so we can set something up.
Sincerely,
Ann Jensen
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So it began. It was as innocent as it could be. Who could suspect that this simple e-mail exchange could put such strong and passionate forces on convergent paths? Who could suspect that a simple meeting of a prospective client with a financial planner could set in motion a chain of events that would turn our world on end?
I had the proverbial good life totally in hand. Two kids were grown and in colleges, already exploring prospective careers. My youngest was a tough one, but he too was moving towards independence. I had a loving wife, lived in a great town, and even had a white picket fence. What more could a guy want?
Well, there was Ann.
I first met her that Friday for lunch. My waitress showed me to the table, where Ann was waiting. She was dressed very conservatively, as a good financial professional should be. She had a smartly tailored suit, in banker's blue, with a just-over-the knee skirt and sensible pumps. Her suit jacket was worn over a silky white shell, which though being constructed of a very sexy "touch me" fabric covered her chest in a "remember why we're here" way. This was all tied together by a simple necklace built around a rather heavy stone that held the fabric securely in place on her chest. She was all buttoned down and ready for business.
So why did I find Ann sexy? You couldn't really see her figure through the camouflage of the suit, which also means she certainly didn't catch my eye with her flair for fashion. Her hair was smartly done, but again nothing was so stylish to catch the eye. She was confident and outgoing, which is certainly attractive, and may even contribute to a person's overall "sexy" quotient, but on its own doesn't exactly stir the soup. Her face was pretty, but enough to be the first woman to grab my attention that way? No.
I guess it was something in her eyes. They were truly beautiful, and combined with her confident attitude she used them to hold my attention. At time I felt they were even holding me captive.
I passed her the envelope I had brought containing all of our financial information. There were copies of everything from life insurance policies and tax returns to pension plans and savings account balances. She perused our situation as we ate lunch, speaking intermittently as she quickly became familiar with my financial state.
I became aware that I was staring at her. Each time her head came up from the paperwork and she turned to speak, it jolted me from deep thought. I don't believe she noticed how distracted I was because she was so intent on exploring my money world as full as possible in this brief encounter. When we stood to go, I realized that I had become slightly aroused during the meeting, and found myself having to pause while paying the check, to let the effects of that arousal soften a bit before walking to the cars.
We stopped beside her car, and she looked at me. Her eyes stuck on mine for a moment. Had I said something or done something to warrant this? Or had she somehow noticed why I was walking "stiffly" when we left our table. No, it was all business. She told me that she would look over my numbers in depth, and asked if we could meet again Monday at the same time and place.
I couldn't shake the image of her eyes from my mind. All afternoon, my students caught me in various states of distraction. I left school as soon possible. Friday afternoon traffic was usually the most miserable encounter of my week, but today it afforded me plenty of time to be alone with my thoughts, alone with that image of Ann's eyes burned into my memory.
I envisioned meeting her again Monday. In my mind her skirt was a bit shorter. Well, more than a bit. Her suit was considerably tighter, and that shell beneath was considerably more low-cut, so now her necklace dangled between the two luscious breasts forming that amazing cleavageβ¦.DAMN!
I stopped just short of the car in front of me. If I wasn't careful, I could wind up fired for daydreaming in class, or worse in the hospital after rear ending someone in traffic. And then there was this problem that was increasingly cropping up between my legs. I felt like I was a sixteen year old again, with an erection building at the mere sight of a cute girl. But Ann was more than a cute high school girl, and I was more than a drooling, hormone driven sixteen year old.
Apparently I was a drooling, hormone driven forty-nine year old. A drooling forty nine year old that was now home, with a wife and kids inside, and an entire weekend ahead. A weekend I would spend distracted, thinking lustfully of Ann.
Dear Ann,
It was a pleasure to meet you today. I am glad you feel I have some options in my finances as I approach the late part of my career. I am anxiously looking forward to meeting you again on Monday to see the wonderful possibilities you have to offer me.
Sincerely,
Jon
Dear Tom,