The Architect

Joyce watched her with quiet amusement.

When Joan tried to unlock the door with her key, she found that it wouldn't fit the lock. "What the Hell is going on around here!" she said with frustration.

"Your keys won't work anymore, Mother. Daddy had the locks changed yesterday."

"Why the Hell would he do that?" Joan ranted. "They worked perfectly well when I left."

As Joan turned to face her daughter, she noticed a pile of seven or eight black plastic trash bags at the far end of the porch. In addition, there were two carboard boxes on the patio table and two large suitcases next to the railing.

"What is all this stuff doing here?" Joan asked.

Joyce stood up and looked at the far end of the porch. "Those are all of your belongings, Mother, everything. All of your clothes are in the trash bags along with all of your shoes and all of your things from your dresser. Your cosmetics are in one of the cardboard boxes and your jewelry is in the other. The three of us spent half of Saturday gathering up your stuff. I packed the suitcases myself. In them are what I think you will need to have with you for near-term work and leisure activities. You should take the suitcases, boxes and any of the trash bags you can fit in your car. Ritchie will take whatever you leave behind and put it in a storage locker that we have rented for you."

"What is happening here?" Joan exclaimed. She felt a knot in her stomach beginning to form.

"Daddy knows everything about your extra-marital affairs. We all do, now."

Joan responded, not fully realizing what she was saying. "That's not possible. I've been so careful."

"You may have been careful, Mother. Certainly, Daddy never suspected you of adultery. But your fuck buddy, Lennard Wilson, was not. Beverly DuMont has suspected him for some months now of having an affair. On Friday evening, they learned just how duplicitous you both were."

"That can't be possible. I was in Atlanta and he was here."

"Beverly hired a private investigation company to spy on you and your boyfriend. She had the hotel suite where you stayed wired for video and audio. Live images were transmitted to the internet Beverly had set up for both viewing and recording. Every move you made, every word you said inside your hotel room was observed and recorded."

"Oh, no!" screamed Joan and she collapsed on the steps next to her daughter. "This can't be happening; this can't be real."

"After Beverly left Daddy alone on Friday night, Daddy continued to watch you two fuck each other's brains out. I think it nearly killed him. He drank heavily that night and finally passed out on the sofa in front of the computer. I came home early Saturday morning to find him asleep on the couch. As I was trying to wake him, I noticed the computer was on and it showed two people fucking away in the bed. After watching for a few minutes, I realized it was you and Mr. Asshole. I let out an involuntary scream that woke Daddy. When he realized it was me and saw what I was watching, he slammed the computer lid down and said, 'You shouldn't have seen that!'"

"I started crying and asking Daddy what was happening. He didn't want to tell me but I made him tell me everything. We even turned the computer back on so I could see what went on between you and Mr. Asshole.

"I made Daddy take a shower and get cleaned up. Then, I made a Virgin Mary to help with his hangover, followed by a light breakfast and coffee. Away from the computer, we tried to make a plan on what we were going to do. Saturday afternoon, Ritchie returned from his soccer match and we filled him in on was happening. We all cried a lot. And then I got mad. We all got mad. How dare you do something like this to our Daddy!

"Based on the things that you did and the things that you said, Ritchie and I decided to throw you out. Daddy agreed. We spent the rest of the day packing up all of your stuff. You were not going to spend another day in this house with our Daddy."

Joan stammered, "But where am I going to go? What am I going to do?"

"Daddy has been gracious enough to rent to a suite at the Hilton Extended Living facility not far from your office. He had paid your rent for three months.

"By the way, this is the same thing Beverly is doing for her husband except she is only paying for his room for one month.

"Maybe you two can meet up this evening, compare notes and fuck yourselves silly again. And, perhaps when Mr. Asshole's lease is up, he can move in with you because he is not going to have a job that would afford him much in the way of housing."

"I don't want to leave my home," Joan bawled. "I love Bill. He's my life. I couldn't live without him."

Without emotion, Joyce responded, "You have to leave. No one wants you here anymore: not Daddy, not Ritchie and not me.

"Furthermore, you should know that on Monday, Daddy has an appointment with a lawyer. He is going to file for divorce."

"No! No, no, no! Please no!" Joan responded.

Joyce continued her blitz. "Daddy intends to keep this house. Afterall, it is his place of business. Also, he will keep the house because both Ritchie and I will be living with him. And he will have custody of Ritchie since he is still underage but is old enough to choose which parent he wants to live with.

"There will be no child support payments and no alimony since you make a very nice income as a real estate broker. Daddy, who has been fully funding your IRA, will let you keep it but will not make any more payments into it.

"Also, you will now take over payments for your car, auto insurance, maintenance and auto property taxes."

Joan looked into the unsympathetic eyes of her daughter. "How can you be so unfeeling?"

"Daddy has told me many times how much he fell in love with you when you first met. He said that he also fell in love with me at the same time. He has told me that he couldn't have loved me any less if you and he had more daughters after you were married. And I couldn't love him more even if he had been my biological daughter. I am Daddy's girl. He has taken care of you and me for twenty years. He has provided us with a beautiful home, wonderful vacations and is sending Ritchie and me to college.

"When I learned what you did to my Daddy, it killed all the affection I had for you. How could you do this to him? What made you do it? Tell me, why?"

Joan, still blubbering said, "At first I just got caught up in the pressure to sell a house. A handsome and charming man offered to buy an expensive home at the asking price if I would go to bed with him. I was anxious to show Bill that I could be a successful real estate salesperson and contribute to the household finances rather sit at home and do nothing. Several months later, something similar happened although I have to admit that I was more flirtatious with this client. After that, it became apparent that I could use sex to sell houses. It didn't happen all that often, maybe a couple of times a year, but it seemed like it was just a factor in the sales process. I knew of several other female agent that did it too, some more than others.

"Then, about eight months ago, Lennard came into the office. He was marketing the DuMont staging business and made presentations to my sales agents. Several of them started using him to stage the homes they were selling. Consequently, he came into the office more and more often. He openly flirted with me. I thought he was charming as well as good-looking. We started going out to lunch together. Things progressed to the point that we held hands, hugged and eventually kissed. Then, one day, he took me to one of the homes that my office had listed for sale. He wanted to show me how good it looked since he had staged it. The staging included a bed. It wasn't long before we were in bed together. The sex was great. Great enough that I didn't want to give him up. He felt the same. So, we started an affair."

"So, first you became a whore in order to sell houses, then you became a slut for some fast-talking salesman.

"I thought I was very discreet but, apparently, I wasn't. I never wanted to hurt your father. I made it a point to be just as affectionate to him as always. I thought he would never suspect."

Joyce spoke up, "You were discreet, Mother. Daddy never had a clue that you had become a slut. Unfortunately, Mr. Asshole wasn't as cautious as you and Beverly became suspicious of him. Eventually, using a private investigation agency, she found out the truth and she found out who you were. She instigated her little sting operation to find out, conclusively, what the extent of your relationship with Mr. Asshole was."

"Please, Baby, don't send me away. This is my home. Your Bill needs me," Joan begged.

"I don't think so, Mother," Joyce answered. For as long as I can remember, Daddy made breakfast for Ritchie and me in the mornings. He also made us our school lunches. Since he worked from home and made his own schedule, he did the grocery shopping and took clothes to the dry cleaners. The only thing he doesn't do is clean the house and do the laundry. We have a maid service for that. He often made dinner too when you said you were going to be late for one reason or another."

Joan continued to make her case. "But your father needs me for other things like companionship and intimate relations."

"I don't think Daddy is interested in companionship or sex with you anymore. Besides, I'm going to be around from now on. I'm moving back home and I will commute to classes for the next few years. Ritchie is going to do the same thing. We are going to take care of Daddy.

"Also, Daddy is still a good-looking man. Already we have convinced him to shave his beard off. I intend to get him enrolled in a gym and help him drop twenty pounds so. And, I 'm going to be cooking nutritious meals for him that will help too. When he gets down to fighting weight, I'm going to take him out to get an all-new wardrobe including suits, sportscoats, casual clothes, shoes, etc.

"Both Ritchie and I are going to get him out of the house more. We're going to take him to school sports events and theater presentations. Daddy's is going to become much more cosmopolitan and less of a recluse.

"As far as female companionship and intimacy is concerned, I have a pretty calculus teacher who has been divorced for a long time. Her son and daughter are both in college. I think she and Daddy would make a cute couple. Also, I have a young woman in my computer drafting class who is a widow going to school on the government survivors bill because her husband was killed two years ago in the Mideast. She has a little girl at home who is just adorable. She and Daddy would be a cute couple too. And don't forget Beverly DuMont. She is a very nice-looking woman with a great figure. I wouldn't mind if they formed a relationship."

Joan interrupted, "You know Lennard's wife? Where did you met her?"

"Beverly came by the house late this morning. She is a very elegant lady and didn't deserve what you and the Asshole did to her. Beverly, Daddy, Ritchie and I all had a late lunch together.

"Finally, Mother," Joyce continued, "you should know that before I ever let you touch Daddy again, I will fuck him myself."

Joan felt the depth of Joyce's anger.

"It's getting late, Mother. Before you go, I have a few things for you. First, I have the address of your new home and a key to your suite." Joyce handed Joan a manila envelope.

"Next, I have a collection of DVDs for you to watch. Beverly brought them when she visited us today. Maybe you and the Asshole can entertain yourselves with them in the evenings."

Joan collapsed on the porch steps after receiving her gifts. They were the physical indications that her future had actually changed in the unimaginable way that Joyce had described it.

"Now, Mother, I have to get going. I'm meeting Daddy and Ritchie at a nice restaurant this evening where we are going to make plans for the future."

"Please," Joan pleaded, "isn't there anything I can do to make the hurt go away, to earn a second chance, to get forgiveness?"

"Nothing I can think of, Mother. Maybe we can come up with something in time. Ritchie and I will probably forgive you eventually because you're our mother. Daddy might forgive you too, . . . but it won't be soon."

END