"Scammed?"

[This story is about scamming, betrayal, payback, getting caught and this story is about finding something he didn't even know he lost. There is no anal, no BDSM, no STD's, and no animals were hurt or offended in the writing of this story. I would like your comments, especially those that will help me be a better writer. I'd like your votes, too. Thanks.]

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The last two hours had been frustrating. I had stopped my car at five houses, looked at the single-sheet fliers I got from the bins just under the "For Sale" signs and drove on. Not one of the homes kept my interest after I read the descriptions.

Six weeks earlier my parents had passed away. My sister and I split the estate, after a month of legal crap. As it worked out, we each got ten million and a yearly income of half a million for life. The lawyers got a hefty bag of cash too. I decided that the eight hundred square foot bachelor apartment I lived in was no longer where or how I should live. A twenty-eight year old with anything over a million in the bank should own a home, I thought. Two days later I added, "at the beach", to that first thought.

At nearly five o'clock on my first serious day of house hunting I saw it. I stopped my car in front, got the flier from the box and liked what I saw and read. It was twenty-six hundred square feet, three bedrooms, three baths, great room, private back yard with gate onto the beach, hot tub, view all the way to Catalina from the upper deck. New kitchen. The three pictures on the flier were small but made the house look great. The house itself looked wonderful. Spanish style, in earthy colors and good landscaping. The flier gave the name and phone number for the agent. "Shown by appointment."

John Wilson was the agent's name. "I wonder if he's related to Asshole Wilson? I asked myself. Asshole Wilson was a guy I went to high school with. His actual name was Walter. I have called him Asshole and a few thousand other less than flattering names since I found out it was him that ruined the last month of high school and banished me from California for seven years.

Asshole had wanted to take Crystal MacGreggor to the prom. He wanted her for his girlfriend. Problem was she was dating me and had agreed to go to the prom with me.

He devised a plan to get her to break up with me and then go with him. Four days before the prom someone found some pictures of two boys having sex in various ways. The only face identifiable in the photos was mine. The most damaging of the selection was of my face with some guys cock in my mouth. Needless to say, Crystal broke up with me that day and accepted Walter as a suitable substitute date for the prom. I didn't go to the prom. I didn't go to graduation. I got my diploma in the mail. Every time I left the house to go anywhere I heard laughter. By July fourth I was in Maine, enrolled in my first semester of college in a small college. Three years later I graduated and moved to another small college for a Master's degree. I quit using my first name and used my middle name. I put high school behind me and moved on.

I moved on physically, too. On prom night I weighed 160 and was six foot even. My hair was cut very short. During college I got into kayaking and developed a few muscles on my frame. I grew shoulders and got up to two hundred ten pounds. During grad school I grew a moustache and liked it. I kept it.

When my parents were sick I came back to California. I got a job as a substitute teacher with a local school district and spent lots of time being with Mom and Dad.

Back in my new BMW I opened my new cell phone and called the real estate office. A female voice answered and I asked for John Wilson. He came on the line and when I gave him the address of the house I was interested in, he got excited. The radio news had been spending lots of time telling about the big slump in the housing market. I realized that meant two good things, for me. The price on the home would be less that the number printed on the flier and the salesman would be hungry to make a deal.

I asked when I could see the inside of the house and John said if I was free we could meet there in an hour. I agreed and went to get a beverage while I waited.

At ten minutes before the hour was over I parked in front. As I got out of my car a silver, two-year old mini-van parked in the driveway. A man about my age got out. His professional smile was turned on and he carried a notebook and a briefcase. He shook my hand and began the sales tour.

He made sure I saw all the special features outside the house, first. Motion sensitive lights, sprinklers built in for the two small grassy areas, a privacy fence in the back yard, a key-pad lock on the gate leading directly onto the beach and the hot tub tucked under the second floor deck and near the back doors. When we got to the upper deck we saw another hot tub, albeit a smaller one, up there. While he guided the tour he asked the qualifying questions.

He asked about my job. I said I had my own business. He asked about my wife and family. I said I had not found the right woman, yet. I asked about his family. He hauled out his wallet and opened it to a picture all salesmen carry. His wife, his two daughters and he, dressed for church last Easter. When he handed the wallet to me so I could look we dropped it. I bent to recover it and saw that the page had changed and showed Asshole Wilson and Crystal at the prom! This was Asshole Wilson! I spent five seconds contemplating a way to kill him that wouldn't have me in prison. Then I handed him the wallet and said, "Nice family."

He went on with the sales tour. I loved the house. I asked about the price.

"On the flier it's listed at three-point-one but you could make a lower offer if you thought that was a little steep. Depending on the escrow terms we might work something out."

"Right. Well, three-point-one is high. I need to sit on it, think for a couple days and call you."

"In all honesty, I showed this to a couple yesterday and they may make a firm offer in the next day or so. A home like this could be off the market soon."

I wondered if he had shown it in the last two weeks. The news said housing sales were down eighteen percent. I was willing to take the risk.

"Well, I didn't get the money to buy something this nice by jumping into things. If you have another buyer before I get back to you, sell."

I walked out to my car and drove off. He hadn't even gotten my phone number.

I thought about the woman in the family picture. Crystal looked good. I circled around and saw John lock the house, get in his mini-van and drive off. I followed. I'm not good at following someone and almost lost him twice before he pulled into a driveway that turned out to be his. His because the two young girls in the yard greeted him and because Crystal greeted him on the porch. She looked good. Twenty-eight years old, two daughters and still had the cheerleaders body. She was wearing white shorts and a stripped t-shirt. Still close to her high school weight.

I went home to my tiny apartment, posted the flier on the fridge with a magnet from my insurance man and drank a beer. That night I went to a Lakers game and watched them suffer and die. All through the game I kept thinking about Asshole Wilson and what he had done. I wondered if Crystal knew he did it. I wondered of she wanted him to do it. I wondered, on the way home, how I could find out.

Early the next morning I called a PI firm I knew my Dad had used a few times. They were in his Rolodex. I went to the office and met with Sam. I told him I wanted to interview five people I hadn't seen since prom week. I gave him their names. I explained what I wanted to know. He made some suggestions and I agreed. He would find them. He would do the interview with me watching on cctv and connected to him so I could ask questions through him. That way they would never know it was me.

Two days later my cell rang. It was Sam. "Be here at two. Plan to be here until about five. I have two interviews scheduled. If these answer your questions we may not need to find the other three women."

"I'll be there." I was early. Sam showed me how the interview room worked. Different from the standard, seen on TV, interview room used by the police there was no mirror for me to look through. There were tiny cameras three places in the interview room and I had three TV's to watch, a headset so I could listen and a mic to speak to Sam through. We tested the system and I was set.

At two-fifteen Donna White walked in. She showed ID and Sam brought her into the interview room.

"Mr. Connors, what is this all about?"

"You agreed to be interviewed about things that happened when you were in high school?"

"Yes, and you offered a hundred dollars."

"Yes." Sam gave her a one hundred dollar bill. She put it in her purse. Sam waited.

"Now, please tell me what high school you went to." She answered and he made short notes on a clipboard. He asked other generic questions and then they turned personal.

Sam asked her to name the boys she had dated who attended the same high school. She named three, Brian, Scott and Lance. That told us she had not dated Asshole, by any name.

He asked her about her closest friends at the start of her senior year. She named Beth, Connie, Madaline, and Crystal. He followed by asking if she still was in contact with any of them.

"I see Beth fairly often, three, maybe four times a year. Connie I hear from on e-mail at least once a month. She lives in Arizona. Madaline married a guy in the Navy and we lost touch."

"And Crystal?"

"I haven't seen her since the prom!" There was fire in her answer.

"Ask her why?" I whispered into the mic.

"Was there a fight?"

"She and her date did what they called a practical joke on a guy I liked. It was cruel, mean and ruined the guy. I found out when they talked about it at the prom, and laughed. I haven't spoken to either of them since. Nor do I want to."

"Ok, we're done. Ask her about being a cheerleader and about Mr. Peterson. See if she heard any rumors about him."

"He asked and she told him that until she got hurt, being a cheerleader was the best part of high school. She told him the rumors were true, she had seen Mr. Peterson kissing Mrs. Culver in the science lab more than once."

Sam thanked her and ushered her out. Fifteen minutes later the interview with Connie confirmed what we had already heard. Sam asked if she knew what happened to me.

"For all I know or ever cared, he fell off the planet. The idea of him sucking... doing what the pictures showed him doing, is disgusting! He's probably in West Hollywood on his knees."

She took her hundred and left. I paid Sam and thanked him. He asked, "Not that I will ever hear your answer but, you've found Walter haven't you?"

I winked. "God, whatever you have planned, be careful. They thought they got away with fucking you years ago. Don't do something that ends up biting you."

"I'm not doing anything." I smiled and left.

On my way home I called John, Asshole John.

"This is Josh. Can I see the house one more time and possibly make an offer?"

"When would you like to meet?"

"Nine tomorrow morning. And, could you find out by then if the house can be rented during escrow, and for how much?"

"I don't know... I can ask. I may be able to have an answer by tomorrow morning. I'll see you at the house in the morning."

A plan was taking form. Weather it became substance was yet to be seen.

I went to my sister's for dinner. She and her husband were trying not to go crazy with the money. They liked their home just fine before Mom and Dad left us money. Now they had fliers and brochures on the table about houses. I saw a brochure for a Cadillac in the bathroom.

I listened and said I had been looking at houses as well. They were looking up in the Sierra's because they liked to ski. I said I was looking at the beach.

Early the next morning I was at the house. John brought a bigger briefcase. I looked the house over again but without the sales pitch. John set up all the papers to make an offer. I wandered the house for almost an hour. I knew John would want a check and signatures on paper. I knew the wait was probably killing him. At a quarter to ten I sat across from him.

"The rental?"

"They agreed. They would like three thousand a month for the term of escrow. They want no more than a one hundred twenty day escrow."

"So, what do I need to do now?"

He shuffled papers and came up with the form used for me to make an offer. I filled out the personal data and asked, "How low do you think they will accept?"

I watched as john shifted into thief mode, "I think they might go as low as two-point-six."

On the paper I wrote it out, "Offer of two million dollars, exactly. Seller pays escrow, closing costs and legal fees." I signed the papers and handed them to John. Before he could read what I had written I asked for it back. I added: This offer good until 72 hours from, and added the date and time I signed it.

John looked it over and said he couldn't guarantee they would respond within 72 hours.

"Then, that's your problem. If they accept I will have a check to open escrow for two hundred thousand dollars. I want a thirty day escrow, no more, no less. There will be one more stipulation but it is not about or involving the seller so we won't talk about it until they accept my offer."

"I need to know what the stipulation is."

"Get the owners to accept the offer. Then the sale will depend on you accepting the stipulation."

In my car I smiled. I hoped the offer would be accepted. It hurt that six percent of two-point-one would give him a commission of a hundred twenty-six thousand, but if my plan worked I could live with it.

A little before four the next afternoon my cell rang. Caller ID told me it was Asshole John.

"Well? Did they accept?"

"Yes. Now there is paperwork to be done. I need a check from your bank to open escrow. Can you come to the office?"

"No. I will meet you at the house at four, today." I hung up. I shut off the cell phone. At about noon the mail was delivered and in it the report from the PI. It told me where Donna White worked and what she did. I would need some furniture and she sold some. I could wander in and see what happened. This could be something. I went to my bank and got a check from them for opening escrow. I got a second check as well.

At five minutes after four I parked. John was leaning against the mini-van. I carried a briefcase. Inside was a digital tape recorder and video camera. When we sat at the table I sat with my back to the windows. The sunlight coming in the huge windows hit John in the face.

I turned on the recorders with a hidden button on the briefcase and John said, "Ok. Here are the papers to sign. Do you have the check for me?"

"I have two. One for a hundred thousand dollars made out to your real estate company and one made out to you."

"To me?"

"Yes. There is a stipulation to handing you the personal check. First, the first check. During the thirty day escrow, starting tomorrow, there are five weekends. On Sunday night of each of those weekends your wife will bring home five thousand dollars. The total for the month is twenty-five thousand dollars. To show that I am serious, here is a check for ten thousand dollars."

He took the check, looked at it, then back up at me.

"My wife? What has buying this house got to do with my wife?"

"If you get the standard commission for this real estate deal everything is fine. If you get extra payments, in your name, you could go to jail, couldn't you?"

He nodded. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"So, every Friday night your wife will arrive here and spend the weekend. On Sunday night she will return home with five thousand dollars. None of it will be in your name."

"Wait a minute. You want my wife to spend the weekend here with you?"

"Five times."

"And she gets five thousand for each time?"

"Yes."

"What will she be doing here for the weekend?"

"If you were me, what would you want her to do?"

"Fuck!"

"Exactly. And anything else I ask her to do. We will stay here each and every weekend, unless I decide we will go out of town. She will not be seen by any of your friends or colleagues."

"Jesus! You want me to pimp out my wife!"

"No! Pimping is a man telling a woman what she must do. I don't want that. I want you to go home and talk to her. If she agrees to do what I want of her own free will and choice, then come back here together and you must both sit here and offer me what I proposed. If you don't come back, tonight, I tear up the check for one hundred thousand and go home, the deal for the house is over. You can cash the ten thousand as a consolation prize."

"How do I tell her about this?"

"Again, not my problem. Perhaps there is something she would like to buy that the money would let her buy? Something for your daughters?"

Asshole John sat for two minutes so deep in his head he didn't notice me move the briefcase and put the hundred thousand in a drawer. I left the ten thousand on the table. That check was made out to John.

A few minutes later I said, "Don't you think you ought to get home?"

He nodded and put his papers in the briefcase. He picked up the check and put it in his pocket. He wandered out the door and drove away, the wrong way. Less than a minute later he drove back past the house. I went to my car and brought in some electronic equipment. I installed two cameras in the dining room that broadcast a digital image and sound to a hidden recorder that I put in the entry closet.

It was after ten when the mini-van parked. I already had the porch light on and chairs at the dining room table. When they got out of the van I opened the door, turned on the recorders and went to my seat at the table. John knocked. I called out, "I'm in the dining room. Come in and please close the door."

The door closed and they came into the dining room. John introduced me to his wife and I motioned for them to sit. The recorders were on.

"We have an offer for you." John said.

"What is it?"

For the next five weekends my wife, Crystal, will come over and spend the weekends with you. She will cook for you, be good to you and generally treat you as a wife would treat a husband. For that, you will give her five thousand a weekend."

"Is that what you want to do, Mrs. Wilson?"

She nodded.

"What, exactly, will you do that could be worth five thousand a weekend?"

"Be your sex slave. You can fuck me every day and night."

"Is that all?"

She sat fuming for long seconds and replied, "No. I'll suck you off if you want."

"Is that what YOU offer me, Mrs. Wilson or is this your husband's idea?"

"We thought of it together."

"Then I accept. Be here at seven on Friday night and you may return home anytime after five on Sunday evening. When you come, bring casual clothes. Call me tomorrow and I will go shopping for foods I like and that you can cook. I may have one or two meals delivered."

I stood and told them how glad I was to meet Mrs. Wilson and thanked Mr. Wilson for the offer. As we headed for the door I shut off the recorders. Then I remembered the check for opening escrow. I got it and handed it to John.

She called me at ten in the morning.

"This is Crystal."

"What do you like to eat, Honey?"

"Please, call me Crystal. I like sea food, salads, and some ethnic foods."

"And, Crystal, what do you like to cook?"

"My kids like my mac and cheese. John likes when I bbq fish, salmon or swordfish. I make good enchiladas, tacos and huevos rancheros."

If you make a list of what I need to buy I'll go shopping and get it all. What beverages do you like to drink?"