Chapter 4

From Bobby’s perspective, the world had jerked to a stop, and then had begun to spin, again. His fantasies about Olivia had been there for years. His masturbatory sessions had almost always included her. They were very specific. If she had been wearing a red T shirt and blue shorts when he had been there, for example, that’s how he envisioned her in his mind as he stroked his hard cock. After seeing her naked, lying back with her legs spread, that was the only way he could imagine her when he stroked a load out. While he was actually there, at Brad’s house, it was polar opposite. He always called her Mrs. Applebee and was careful not to get caught ogling her body. She had always just been Brad’s smiling mom. Then, almost two years after high school, he had discovered she worked part time for an escort service.

He’d found out by accident. A woman who came to the stables to negotiate about stabling her horse had left her book bag on a bench outside the stablemaster’s office. Bobby had seen it there and he thought it had been accidentally left by someone who was there for a trail ride or riding lesson. That kind of thing happened a lot. He had investigated only to try to find some information about the owner and in it he had found a 5 X 7 booklet. On the cover was a stylized shape of a woman and the words “Marci’s Maidens.” The little book looked professionally made and when he opened it, the pages were stiff and thick. Each page showed the photo of a woman’s face, with her bio beneath it.

Marci’s Maidens was known by every male in high school. It was almost universally believed to be a cover for prostitution and a group of three cocky seniors had even gone to the small office downtown where one could arrange for an “escort” and said they wanted an escort to take to prom. The woman who ran the place was kind to them. All she said, after she examined their IDs, was, “Come back in a few years, when you actually have to shave more than once a week.” One brash young man claimed to have to shave every day. Her reply was, “You have to be twenty-one to do business here.”

Now, as he turned the pages in the little book, he could actually see the women who worked there. He’d already gotten stiff when he turned a page and was confronted with a picture of his best friend’s mother. He had stared. It was a glamour shot and she looked gorgeous. His eyes fell to the bio to confirm it was her, because he just could not believe that Olivia Applebee was a hooker. Her name was there, along with some personal data and at the bottom right corner of the page were the tiny letters “Escort Only.” He leafed through the booklet and saw half a dozen other pages with those words in that location. All the others simply had “Escort”.

He went back to her page and stared, as fantasies he’d already had about her ran amok in his brain. Finally he jerked his eyes away and looked around. He suddenly didn’t want to be caught going through someone’s personal property. He put the booklet back in the bag and took it to the stablemaster’s office. When he walked in there was a short, slim, almost boyish-looking woman talking to Dan, who owned and ran the stables.

“Sorry,” Bobby said. “I didn’t know you were talking to someone. I found this bag on a bench in the stables and didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Oh!” said the woman. “That’s mine! Thank you so much.”

She had taken the bag and Bobby had known to leave. The rest of the day was like a fog he had to find his way through. He couldn’t believe it. He had been at Olivia’s house only two days previously, when he went to hang out with his best friend, there. As he thought back on that, he remembered her hair had been down that day and she’d been wearing jeans and a Mickey Mouse T shirt. He’d been going to Brad’s house since he was twelve, after they became friends. His mother had always looked good when he saw her. Her smile of welcome had always looked genuine. She had made them treats. He’d been invited to dinner more times than he could remember.

He thought back on those meals. Brad’s dad was only there rarely. He seemed like a normal dad. Brad said he was an inspector of some kind and had to travel a lot for his job. But most of the time it was like Brad’s mother was a single mom, raising a teenager.

As Bobby plowed his way through puberty he had been shy around girls. But he could talk to Brad’s mother. She was different. It felt safe to have a discussion with her. In his masturbatory fantasies she was a primary character. When he was in bed, in the dark, where he could stroke his stiff penis and imagine things, wild things happened in his imagination.

A girl named Angie Thompson asked him to prom. He had swallowed and nodded. He remembered when he and Angie went to pick up Brad for Prom. They were going to pick up his date next but Olivia demanded a photo of Brad and Bobby, the two inseparable best friends.

“You look so handsome,” she had said, looking at Bobby.

He got a boner and had to try to move it to make it less visible.

He was twenty when he found Marci’s book bag and the booklet that changed his life. On his twenty-first birthday, part of the day had been spent at Brad’s house, where Olivia congratulated him and hugged him. He had felt like he might do something stupid as her breasts pressed against his chest. She kissed him on the cheek and pushed him back with her hands on his shoulders.

“You’re a man, now,” she sighed. “When did that happen? Where was I while you changed from a gangly kid into a handsome man?”

He had kept it together, but he had also gone on with his plan to have a new kind of relationship with Olivia Applebee. The very next day he had gone into Marci’s Maidens and told her he wanted to hire an escort to go with him to the opera. Marci had, indeed, required evidence he was twenty-one and had smiled when she saw how long he’d been that age. He hadn’t known what to expect and had been surprised when she said, “A lot of men who use this service the first time have some erroneous assumptions about the women who work for me. These women cannot be hired for sex. They are escorts, only. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about that. If you hire one of my girls and get pushy, you will regret it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he had said.

“Sometimes friendships develop and what my girls do on their private time is their business and not mine, but I want you to be crystal clear that my girls are not prostitutes. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said. “I’ve just never known a beautiful woman who would go on a date with me. I want to go see The Magic Flute at the Orpheum Theater in Phoenix and I don’t want to go alone ... you know?”

“I understand, though you’re good looking enough that women should flock around you. Are you violent or mean?”