Why Didn't I Just...
Chapter 20

Copyright┬ę 2006 by Openbook

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 20 - Jimmy Gordon has spent his life drinking, smoking and making money. Now, his lifestyle has caught up with him and he has no time left. At home, drinking and feeling sorry for himself, he finds the one thing he really needs, a second chance.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Time Travel   Historical   DoOver  


This semester, I had no Tuesday or Thursday classes on my schedule. I had planned on continuing my flight training on these days, building up my hours, and getting some more certifications. While I was at the airport that Tuesday, the day after buying my motorcycle, I ran into an unexpected vocational opportunity for Tiny. I met a man in the flight operations office, another private pilot who was in the local area setting up a showroom for his line of boats. These were small recreational boats, ranging from about fourteen feet in length to about twenty one feet.

I had come inside to get some weather information for a flight plan that I was hoping to file for a Thursday flight to Fresno. This man was talking on the pay phone, he was talking to someone, and beginning to sound very upset. One of the words he kept mentioning over and over again was boats. My boats, our boats, fine boats, line of boats. When he finally hung up, I heard him muttering about how this development could set him back several months.

"Excuse me. I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing you earlier. Are you in the boat business?" He looked me over, and then admitted that he was. "If you have a card sir, I have a good friend who has been looking to get into your industry."

"In what capacity?"

"In any capacity that he can, just to get his foot in the door. He is an avid fisherman, and quite knowledgeable about recreational fishing boats. He has been looking for a chance to combine his vocation with his hobby."

"What does he do for a living now?"

"He is in quality control for a regional distributor of industrial gases, but he wants to start using his skills in the boating or fishing industry. That's where his interests lie."

"I'm Fred Martin, and I'm the National Sales manager for Viking Boats. I flew in this morning to have a meeting with the man who was supposed to head up our new showroom in Costa Mesa. That was him on the telephone, telling me that he was no longer free to manage our showroom. Our grand opening is a week away, and he tells me this now. Well look, I'm sure that you don't want to hear all about my problems. Let me give you the address for our new showroom, and you can have your friend contact someone there, after we open, and fill out an application." He gave me a brochure of his boats that had an address and phone numbers stamped on the bottom of the front panel. I took it, thanking him for his time. "Say, does your friend live anywhere close to Costa Mesa?"

"He lives in Westminster. That's about a ten minute drive or so."

"It looks like I might have to stay here and open the showroom myself, and I could use someone who knows the area. Someone who would drive around the area, getting me whatever I need to get up and running for the opening. I couldn't promise that he'd get himself a regular job out of this, but I'd see him, and I'd be able to get some idea about his knowledge of recreational boating. If he does a good job for me, I could give him a recommendation with whoever I hire to be our showroom manager."

"I'll see him this afternoon, and tell him. When would you want him to show up at the showroom?"

"If he could be there tomorrow, at eight in the morning, that would be a big help to me. What's his name, by the way?"

"His name is Malcolm Bueller, but everybody calls him Tiny. He's a real nice guy, and a willing worker. He used to work for my father, in the Navy, and my dad always said that Tiny was the best assistant that he had ever had."

"I was in the Navy myself, during the war. How old is this friend of yours?"

"I'd say about forty years old or so, but I don't know for sure."

"You have him there at eight, and I'll put him to work. If he was in the Navy, at least I know that he can follow orders."

I went right over to see Tiny, but he was at work. I told Terri about my meeting this man who was a big manager with a boat company, and how Tiny could go down the next morning and apply for a job with his company. Terri told me that Tiny was only working Tuesday's and Friday's now at Airco, and he was already looking for another job. I told her that I'd be back after five that evening to talk to Tiny about the man he was to meet, and the opportunity that it might lead to.

Back at the airport, I did my preflight checks and went up to fly for another hour. The voice had already given me all of the piloting skills and knowledge that I'd need, but I had to put in the flight hours in any case. I loved flying though, so it wasn't any burden for me to do this. I needed some paperwork signed for my log book, and I also needed to see about getting an hour of specialized instruction on instruments, so I went over to the company where I'd taken my flight lessons. For the first time since our breakup, I saw Donna again. She was sitting in the outer office, waiting for Tom to be done, because they were going out to look at houses when he was.

"Hi Donna. How have you been?" She had looked up when I had opened the door, and I could see that she had gotten nervous at seeing me so unexpectedly again. I tried to sound casual, to put her nerves at ease. I had gotten over most of my anger with her, and didn't want her fearful of me in any case.

"Hi Jimmy. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were done with your flight training?"

"You're never done, as long as the money doesn't run out. There's always something else to be learned, and it all costs money. Is Tom here? I need to ask him about a lesson." Just then Tom came out from the back offices.

"Hey Jimmy, what's up?" Tom and I had been very strained in our relationship after he and Donna had gotten together. I couldn't help bearing him a grudge when he already knew that Donna and I were together, and still he'd seduced her. The thing was though, even when he knew how pissed off at him I was, Tom still treated me the same, and had, on more than one occasion, let pass some words that I had spoken to him in anger. He still supervised all of my training, and had been the first to congratulate me when I'd passed my flight exam, and later the check ride. Tom was a professional, able to separate our personal differences, and still provide me with the best instruction that he could give. In spite of the situation with Donna, I had felt comfortable with Tom continuing as my instructor.

"I need to schedule a couple instrument lessons with you, Tom. When can you fit me in?" He pulled out his pocket appointment book and gave me some dates and times that he was open. I picked two hours on Thursday, one in the morning, and the other in the afternoon. When we were done, I turned to Donna again. "Look, Donna, I just want to tell you that I'm over whatever it was that I felt when you first told me about how things were with you and Tom. I want you to know that I'm fine with how things are now, and I wish both of you all the best in life. I want us all to be friends." She nodded, but didn't say anything to me. I started to leave.

"Jimmy, thank you for saying that to me. It means a lot to me, not having you be mad anymore. I never wanted to hurt you."

I smiled at her, and then I left. I wanted to tell her that her happiness was important to me, and that I was glad that she had found Tom, even though it meant that she and I were through. I wanted to, but I also wanted to tell her some other things, things that she wouldn't want to hear from me. I settled with just leaving it like it was.

I had been taking $5,000.00 over to Paul Frenchak, every month for the past three or four months, for him to use to run his mission. Every time I went there though, he was after me to set up a meeting with my father so that he could tell him about some plans that he had to increase his program. I told him that my father didn't want to meet with him, and didn't want to increase his support in any way. Still, whenever I saw him, we went through the same ritual. I was driving over to Los Angeles to give him another $5,000.00.

Jimmy, before you go to the mission, I need for you to do something else for me. I want you to go by and pick someone up, and then take him over to Paul's' mission with you.

<Where is he?>

He's in Norwalk, it isn't too far out of your way. I'll show you where to find him. The voice led me over to a run down neighborhood, and then to an alleyway behind some shacks. There were overturned trash cans in the alley, and the smell of piss was everywhere.

<He's somewhere around here?>

Go straight ahead, he's over between that building and the wire fence. Wake him up and ask him if he'd like to make ten dollars.

I drove forward until I got to the place he's told me to go. There, lying propped up against the shack, was a bum, sleeping apparently. I rolled my passenger side window down. When he didn't move or wake up, I yelled at him.

"HEY! WAKE UP! YOU, you want to make some money?" After I had started yelling, he opened his eyes and tried to bring me into some kind of focus. "Do you want to make $10.00?" He tried getting to his feet, but he was having a lot of trouble with it. Finally, he managed to stand, and then he turned towards me, and lurched drunkenly towards my car.

<Should I maybe just give him the ten bucks and I'll come back some other time to get him? He's too messed up to take him into Los Angeles.Why not let him sleep it off first?>

Jimmy, he's in as good a shape right now as he ever gets. Tell him to get in if he wants to make $10.00.

"Hop in pal, I'm going to take you someplace where you can make ten bucks." He couldn't even figure out how to open my car door. I had to lean over and pull it open for him. That's when I got my first good whiff of what he smelled like.

<Man, I can't ride all the way in to LA with this guy stinking up my car. Can't you do something?> The smell disappeared. Wow, another good trick, one that I could make a fortune with, if I only knew how he did that. It took a couple minutes, but finally this bum figured out how to get in the car and sit down. Even without the smell, he looked stinky. I couldn't help trying to keep as far to my side as I could, turning my face to my window every time I took a breath. I turned back to look at the guy again, and he was sleeping. He was in the car for thirty seconds, and he was already fast asleep. Those Cadillacs were comfortable, but that was ridiculous. Still, I was glad that he was asleep or passed out, because that meant I didn't need to watch him to make sure he didn't do anything to my car.

Jimmy, when you get to the mission, tell Paul that your father wants him to take this man in and get him dried out. Tell him that his future funding depends on his success with keeping this man sober, and with getting him back on his feet. Give him an extra five hundred dollars and tell him that there will be more in the future, if he succeeds.

<I'm not sure I have an extra five hundred on me, I need to check.>

You do, I already checked. You have $736.00, in addition to the five thousand dollars.

<Well, I'm running out of money. It's been awhile since you led me to anything.>

Don't worry, I'm working on several things for you. I'm not going to let you run out of money.

<It sounds to me like Tiny and Terri might need more help, and there are still some things I want to do for my parents. It sure was easy to get used to having all of that money.>

We had gotten over to the mission, and I parked right in front. I didn't want to leave that guy sleeping in my car, but I didn't see Mr. Frenchak anywhere around. I could see that the mission doors had been locked and there were about thirty women and children sitting all around the building outside. I got out of my car and went over to some women and asked them where Mr. Frenchak was. They said that he'd driven off with a few men, taking them to their jobs. He was supposed to be back shortly. I waited for forty minutes, standing beside my car, and watching that guy sleeping on the passenger seat. When I'd just about given up hope, Mr. Frenchak pulled up right behind my car. Seeing me, he jumped out, anxious I'm sure, to get his money.

"Jimmy! Good to see you, and you're just in time. How is your family? Well, I hope?"

"We're all good, thanks. My dad needs you to do something for him Mr. Frenchak, He told me to tell you that it was important to him too."

"If it's in my power, you can be assured that it will be done... Tell me, how can I assist him?"

"It's that man sleeping in my car. My father wants you to take care of him, to get him off the booze, and to make him start taking better care of himself. He wants him cleaned up and back among the productive members of society."

"That's a tall order, Jimmy. My experience is that most of these situations don't result in long term improvement. I'll do what I can of course, but I can't make you any promises."

"That brings us to another thing that my father told me to tell you. Your future support from him is sort of dependent on you getting this done for him. He believes that you can do it. Here's your five thousand for this month, and he sent another five hundred with me to cover any extra expenses that you might have with the man that I'm bringing you now. He really wants you to do this for him. I don't know why, but it's important to him, very important."

"I understand, Jimmy. You tell your father that we'll do our very best. I'll put all of my people on this." I peeled off the five hundred and gave him that as well. Mr. Frenchak and I got the guy in my passenger seat awake, and then helped him out of my car, and over alongside of the mission building. As soon as he was settled on the ground, he went back to sleep again.

Don't forget to leave the ten dollars that we promised to give to Gerald, Jimmy. I doubt if he'll remember it, but he might.

I peeled off another ten bucks, and told Mr. Frenchak to give it to the sleeping guy after he woke up. He took the money and said that he would. I drove back to Fullerton, keeping all of my windows down even though it was cold out. I was going to use some disinfectant cleaner on my car seat as soon as I got a chance. I hoped that he didn't have lice or anything.

Jimmy, I've taken care of everything, Your car is cleaner than it was before he sat down in it. Drive over to Whittier, we can pick up some money over there. I'm assuming that you have no aversion to accepting money that was taken from criminals?

<Not as long as they don't find out that I'm the one that took it, no.>

Good, that makes it ever so much easier for me. When we get to where I'm going to show you, I want you to go inside and take the money that is sitting on the table, all of it. There are some bags there that you can use to put it all in. This is money that is the proceeds of several hundred drug sales over the past three days. The three individuals that are now in this room, will not be conscious, and will never see you enter or leave. Can you do this?

<Sure, why not. I trust you.>

You always say the sweetest things to me. Turn right at the next light, and then go down until I tell you to turn right again.

We got to the house where the voice said the money was located. I parked out on the street, right in front. The voice told me to go up to the door and walk right in. Saying that I trusted him was on thing. Actually walking into a house where there were three drug dealers, probably all armed, was another. There is a big difference between saying that you can do something, in the abstract sense, and actually doing it in a real situation, one where real consequences are possible. I walked up to the front door with some serious misgivings. I put my hand on the door knob and turned it. I didn't pause to allow myself the time to think about what might happen if the voice hadn't taken care of things inside for me. I walked in and went over to the table that was set up in the middle of the living room. There were three men sitting in the room, one right over at the table, and two sitting on a chair and a sofa, that were a few feet removed from the table. All three men were unmoving, not even looking up when I walked in.

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