Paint Cheaters with the Same Brush

Now my million dollar question: "Who is the guy?"

"It's that Gerald guy who anchor's the show Barbie is on," was his deadpan reply. He didn't know that was my husband, until he saw my face turn ashen and then saw me slump back into the booth with my hand over my mouth and tears starting to form in my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he genuinely asked.

"That's my husband," I sobbed.

"Shit!....Sorry," he mumbled.

I regained most of my composure. "Not your fault; in fact I am more indebted to you than you know. My email address is on the card I gave you. Send me an email telling me what types of jobs you're interested in -- give me three or four options -- and I'll get back to you. I'm really sorry, but I have to leave," I said, suppressing my tears and throwing a Benjamin on the table to cover the meal and tip.

I wasn't worth a shit at work that morning. My boss -- the managing partner, Sam Stone -- knew something was bothering me. I knew all of his business and personal problems, and was often a sounding board for him, and had pulled his ass out of the fire on some personal matters that are irrelevant to this story. Suffice to say that he owed me big time, and valued me as a person and employee.

"Megan, could you come in here a minute," he asked nicely as he walked past my desk about 10 a.m. When I got into his room he said "Close the door and sit down please." When I did he said "All right, give -- what's up; I want to help."

I started crying. I could tell that it was painful for him to see that since I never had cried before him before. He sat patiently and said "whenever you're ready. Take your time."

Once I regained my composure I laid the entire thing out for him, including my promise to help Will find a job -- something that I had briefly mentioned to him Monday. When I was done he asked "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know yet," I hesitantly replied.

"Fry the asshole and the bitch -- and anything I can do to help, I will; including getting this servant guy another job."

"Thank you," I said, getting up to leave.

Sam got up, walked around the desk, hugged me, and then looked me in the eye. He had never even touched me before. "Megan, I'm not just saying I'll help. I will, whatever you want. If it's illegal don't tell me the details, just what you need, OK?"

He wasn't smiling when he said that; I knew that he was serious.

"Once you finish the final changes on the Acme summary judgment motion, take the day off -- administrative leave, not sick or vacation time. Decide what you want to do," he continued, then squeezed my arms and went back to his desk.

I finished the Acme motion, forwarded Sam the email from Will, waved goodbye to Sam while he was on the phone, and drove home in a zombie-like state. When I got there I started looking through photos of my married life, and even pulled up the YouTube videos that Gerald had made to land his first job in TV. As I sobbed, feeling sorry for myself, watching my "Wild Woman Shelia" video suddenly something clicked.

I immediately got out Gerald's calendar, shot Will an email telling him to meet me for breakfast the next day at the same time and place and called Sam. I told Sam what I needed -- not what I was going to do, but what I needed -- and he gave me the name of a guy to call. "Sid is the vice president of one of our client's the Carpenters' Union. You remember doing work for them, don't you Megan."

"Yes, of course," I replied.

"I'll talk to Sid tonight; call him tomorrow, and he'll help you out."

"Thanks, Sam, I owe you," I said.

"No, I just owe you one less," he laughed.

After talking to Sam I got up and went to the library to use their computers. Since it was noon, and since Tuesday was not one of his normal "fuck days," Gerald could be home within the hour.

I met with Will the next morning and told him my plan. "As long as you swear that you can get me a job, I'm in," he said with a big grin.

"Sam will have you three interviews by this weekend," I grinned back.

"Thursday morning is the perfect time to do the groundwork," Will concluded. "The butler is off and no one else will interfere."

"Then Monday is D-day," I chuckled. "It is the first day of sweeps, you say Stinchcomb will be out of town so Barbie will bring Gerald back, and we'll catch them flat-footed."

I called Sid as soon as I left Will. We met that afternoon and I laid out what I needed. Sid had a big shit-eating grin on his face the entire time, shook my hand, and said "I'll put my two best and most discrete guys on it, and my buddy who's a whiz in electronics. I realize the need for secrecy."

Thursday morning I took off work and met with Will, the two guys from the Carpenters' Union, and Sid's electronics buddy. It took only from eight until eleven to install the false ceiling with trap door over the couch, carefully pour in the industrial fluorescent orange paint, install the remote-controlled latch, and hookup the video and sound camera, in the study of the Stinchcomb-Mann mansion.

It was very hard to interact with Gerald Friday through Sunday. I kept everything superficial. It was a little easier than I thought it would be, though, because "Sweeps Week" was Monday through Friday of the next week, the time when all the best public interest segments would be aired, and Gerald and Barbie would be on their best behavior and dressed in their best garb. Gerald was so excited Sunday night that he could barely sleep. I gave him the last backrub he would ever get from me to help him sleep.

____________________

Barbie and Gerald were giddy when they caromed into the study at the mansion about 12:40 on Monday. They congratulated themselves on how well the show had gone the first day of sweeps week, said some derogatory things about their spouses, then stripped and started working on each other's bodies, oblivious to the fact that their competitor TV stations had been called to the mansion for a potential great public interest story, or that the fire department would soon be on the way.

As I remotely watched Barbie kneeling on the couch as Gerald plunged his cock into her pussy while massaging her fake tits, I waited until they were clearly oblivious to everything around them. Then I pushed the button releasing the latch on the ceiling trap door. Indelible industrial strength fluorescent orange paint -- just like that which took me two months to get rid of when I used in during the "Wild Woman Shelia" YouTube video -- came down in a torrent onto the cheating duo.

I was sorry to ruin the couch, Oriental rug, and other furniture in the study, but that sorrow was miniscule compared to the joy I got watching Barbie and Gerald gasp for air and try and wipe the paint off of their faces as it oozed onto virtually every square inch of their skin. They ran out of the room, out of the camera's view. Shortly thereafter Will called me. "They're trying to wash off in the pool while two other TV stations are filming them. The fire department just arrived. I'll let you know what else happens."

My only regret was that Stinchcomb was not there to witness it. However, he was due back the next day. "Wonder what he'll think about naked orange Barbie?" I asked myself.

____________________

In view of the strange society we live in, WXXX's ratings for the "Morning's Light News" show didn't tank during sweeps week -- they went up! Jim, the station manager, scored a real coup by interviewing the fluorescent orange duo the same day, and the rest of the week as they unsuccessfully went through one strange effort after the other to remove the paint.

Of course after sweeps week Gerald was fired and Barbie was served with divorce papers and booted out of the mansion. Since Stinchcomb had an iron clad pre-nup she left without fanfare and with only $500,000 in view of her infidelity, saving Stinchcomb $2,500,000.

I filed for divorce even before Stinchcomb did. I had all negotiations with Gerald conducted through my attorney -- the baddest ass attorney in the law firm I worked for, representing me pro bono. I got what I wanted.

The only hurdle I had to overcome was dealing with Stinchcomb's attorneys about the damage to his mansion. Of course Will gave them my name -- which I told him was fine by me -- so Will was never sued. Sam got him the job he wanted in the same city as our satellite office, and I gave him $5,000 of my own money for moving expenses, so he was a happy camper.

I refused to give up the guys associated with the Carpenters' Union who had helped me even after I was threatened with every type of suit imaginable. I do have to say that the threat of personal litigation was weighing on my psyche, however, but that did nothing to diminish the satisfaction of me "painting both cheaters with the same brush."

I was expecting really bad news when Stinchcomb's assistant called me at work. "Ms. Watson," he opened; I was now unofficially going by my maiden name, with a petition pending before a Court for an official name change. "Mr. Stinchcomb would like to personally meet with you to settle the matters of possible litigation once and for all. I assume that you still refuse to identify your accomplices."

I was taken aback. "Yes, I refuse to even confirm that anyone helped me. But why would the reclusive Mr. Stinchcomb want to meet with me? Doesn't he have more important things to do?"

"I don't know his reasons, although I do know that one of his favorite art objects in his study was destroyed by your antics. This is a chance to settle the matter once and for all, without attorneys. Will you meet with him?" the assistant continued.

"Of course, I will," I quickly replied. I would have met with him just out of curiosity, just to see what the old codger looked like. Possibly being able to settle any possible suit was a real bonus. "When and where?" I asked.

"Tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Mr. Stinchcomb's driver will pick you up at your place of business at 9:30 sharp."

I told Sam about it; he laughed and said "Go for it -- but I insist that you tell me what he looks like; no need for vacation or sick leave if you do."

"Deal," I smiled, before getting back to work.

When at precisely ten the next day I was ushered into the most ornate conference room I had ever seen I was expecting to have to wait for the reclusive old man to arrive. I was puzzled when a voice came from behind a high back chair across the table from me; "Well, Ms. Watson. Glad that you could make it."

"Shit, he's not going to reveal himself," I said to myself. Though disappointed in an upbeat voice I said. "Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Stinchcomb. I'm sorry that I had to put you through what I did, but I was badly hurt and needed my revenge."

"And you sure got it," he laughed, "remind me not to ever piss you off. Actually, you helped me out. It was a mistake for me to marry Barbie, something I realized after only two months, and your act of exposing her infidelity saved me 2.5 million dollars because of the conditions of my pre-nup."

"I'm glad that I could help," I hesitantly replied.

"What are we going to do about my prize Ming vase that was destroyed, however? I can't put a monetary value on it."

"I...I don't know," I mumbled. "I'm sorry that I didn't think to have your valuables removed from the study."

There was a pregnant pause and then he chirped "I have a suggestion....Go to dinner with me tonight."

"What?" I said in astonishment. Just then he turned around in his chair and stood up, with a big smile on his face. He wasn't an old codger; he was a handsome young man, probably no older than my thirty two years. I'm sure that my mouth was agape while my mind kept tumbling around "What the fuck!"

Then Stinchcomb grinned "We need to talk about old times."

I took another good look at him, mumbled "Johnny?" then everything went blank.

________________

My meeting with Stinchcomb was two years ago. Since then I've travelled the world with him on business and pleasure. I'll have to stay at home in about a month, however, because the doctor says that I shouldn't travel after that with two energetic boys growing in my stomach.

I forgot that Johnny's Aunt and Uncle's last name was Stinchcomb, but I still would have never made the connection. What I will never forget, however, is that first love is the most powerful emotion in the world, or how lucky I am to have retrieved it!