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by F. Collyer Reed
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Erotica
While having dinner one night in an upscale restaurant, three men well beyond middle age are entranced by a strikingly beautiful young woman who walks by on the arm of a man old enough to be her father. Her scent lingers, intoxicating the trio who stop eating and question how a man of their own age manages to enjoy the pleasures of such an enticing young thing. They wonder who he is, and who she is. As their plates of food grow cold, they decide that she’s too classy and wholesome to be anything other than a gold digger. And they decide they want one of their own.
Between them they can create the façade of one incredibly wealthy man. With access to a penthouse with art worth millions and a Rolls Royce, they decide to take turns being Man of the Evening. One will be a butler/cook. Another the chauffeur. The third a lonely, illusive, incredibly wealthy gentleman. They place a personal ad seeking a woman who dreams of the man they have created – and who doesn’t mind if he’s twice her age. A woman who will shop in trendy boutiques and department stores, and let the chauffeur carry her purchases, and in the evening entertain friends around the dining table, served by the butler.
Wayne Grossman woke up at 6:30 a.m. to the sound of silence. He lay in bed for several minutes, wondering if, now that he was retired, perhaps something was wrong with his hearing. Had he gone deaf overnight? Just then a distant siren wailed to confirm that his hearing was not faulty.
He sat on the edge of the bed to contemplate this odd development. Usually his wife was preparing breakfast by now, but there was no breakfast odor, no clatter of dishes in the kitchen.
Wayne sat there for some time, wondering what to do. Finally he said, “Helen.” When there was no response, he raised his voice a little. “Helen. Helen.” He bounced a bit on the edge of the bed. “Helen! Helen!”
When Helen still didn’t respond, he grabbed a handful of blanket and pulled. The way her arm was wrapped around the outside of the blanket caused her entire body to move with the blanket in an unnatural fashion. There was no separate movement of limbs. Helen was stiff as a board.
Wayne went into the bathroom. When he reappeared, he was freshly showered, shaved, and dressed in a dark brown suit, a white shirt, and a dark brown tie. He noted that Helen’s position hadn’t changed.
A creature of habit, Wayne went to the front door to find The Los Angeles Times. He tucked it under his arm and stepped out into his Toluca Lake neighborhood. He ate breakfast promptly at 7 each morning but since there was none waiting for him this morning, he went in search of breakfast.
~~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~~
F. Collyer Reed was born with the help of a doctor who certified the health of prostitutes in a Nevada brothel. Raised by his mother and numerous “aunts,” he remembers times when he awoke at night to see his mother engaged in her trade.
Eventually she married a wealthy miner client and they moved to San Francisco. His stepfather died when he was eight. In less than a decade his mother’s life had transformed from working at a rural Nevada brothel servicing mine owner-operators and ranchers to a life in the wealthy Pacific Heights neighborhood of San Francisco where her son was a reminder of the past as well as a social liability. She sent him to various boarding and military schools, including a British finishing school, a Christian Holy Roller school (his words), Catholic Reform, and state reform school.
In Reed’s words, “I’m lucky to have lived through my youth. Any drug I liked I used in excess, and I liked them all.”
A sober Reed and his artist wife live on a cruising sailboat in the San Francisco Bay Area with her pit bull and a cat. When not writing, he’s an avid motorcyclist and shares his passion for bicycles and sailing with his wife.
~~CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR~~
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