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The Road to Redemption
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THE ROAD TO REDEMPTION
By S.J. Morris
LIST OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 A Successful Day
Chapter 2 In the Beginning
Chapter 3 Melbourne Cup Day and Marriage
Chapter 4 Moving up
Chapter 5 Alice and the Leaves
Chapter 6 Saturday Night
Chapter 7 Another Day at the Office
Chapter 8 Lunch and Dessert
Chapter 9 Thursday Bloody Thursday
Chapter 10 George and Mildred
Chapter 11 A Business Project
Chapter 12 The After Party
Chapter 13 A Drink with Bill
Chapter 14 A Trip to Tyrone
Chapter 15 Welcome Home
Chapter 16 Audry and George
Chapter 17 Dr Rush
Chapter 18 Group Discussion and Room C
Chapter 19 An Awakening
Chapter 20 Going Home
Chapter 21 Home Recovery
Chapter 22 Graham Again
Chapter 23 Redemption
Chapter 1 A Successful Day
John Mason turned his BMW into the driveway. A press of the button on his dashboard and the iron gates swung open, as did the left hand garage door.
Yes, he thought, it looks pretty good. Four bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, two garages and a rumpus room and pool out the back. It looked immaculate and that new grass on the front lawn was coming along well. Only one thing, that blasted gum tree in the corner, was still dropping leaves. He would have to rake them up. Why can’t the bloody thing drop leaves at one time of the year, rather than all year round, he quizzed himself?
John liked things perfect. From his tailor made suits to crisp white business shirts, smart ties, polished shoes and of course his immaculately kept Beema. Yes, John was a very smart man.
Still not to worry too much about the leaves, he had had a particularly good day, having offloaded a property for $5 million and was feeling pretty pleased with himself.
Into the garage, another press of the button and the gates and garage door swung shut.
“Hi Hon, I’m home.”
“In the kitchen,” came the reply.
John placed his expensive leather briefcase with the embossed initials J.W.M. (John William Mason) neatly next to the staircase and hung his coat carefully over the banister, so as not to crush it.
Audry was standing over the stove. He gave her a peck on the cheek.
“What's cooking Hon?”
“Lamb roast, how was your day?”
“Great, I finally got rid of that Wilson property.”
“That's good Hon.”
That's good John thought to himself. That's bloody marvelous and all she can say is “That's good”.
He had been trying to sell the Wilson property for six months and had finally swung the deal. As usual the seller wanted too much and the buyer wanted to pay too little. As usual, as a real estate salesman, he was stuck in the middle and could not get his commission, until it was sold. Although he had made a few bucks on the advertising budget, by charging the seller a bit more than it cost him, that was chicken feed compared to his 2% commission.
It had been a particularly difficult negotiation, with the seller’s and buyer’s wives both digging their heels in. Finally it had got down to a $10,000 difference between the offer and the price the seller was prepared to take. But still both wives would not give an inch. How bloody stupid could they be arguing over $10,000 on a $5 million property? The commission might be good, but these people with a bit of money were much harder to deal with, than the young couples he used to deal with in the early days, buying and selling cheap units.
Finally he had rung both husbands at work. He told the buyer’s husband that this was a particularly good investment and would go up faster than the rest of the market in the future and perhaps he could see that better than his wife. He then told the seller’s husband that the property had been on the market for six months, was getting stale and there was only one buyer. If he could make his wife see reason, they could finally sell their home and move on with their lives. It worked. The buyers upped their offer by $5000 and the sellers accepted.
He looked at Audry standing over the stove, as these thoughts flashed through his mind. She was now in her late 30’s, but much of her beauty had faded. After two children she had put on a bit of weight. A bit of weight he thought, no a shit load of weight.
She had been a trophy wife, tall, beautiful with ample firm tits and from a wealthy family into the bargain. Not that Audry’s father George liked John. He had told her not to marry him, as he saw John as an upstart from the wrong side of town, who was only after the money. There was more than a grain of truth to this, as John had started as a gardener and later worked his way up in real estate, from handling rentals, to selling cheap properties, then finally into his own agency, selling multi million dollar properties. He was certainly a goer, never satisfied, always looking for more.
On the other hand Audry was content with her lot in life. She had a beautiful home, a handsome husband and two nice kids, even if Claire the eldest was now 16 and growing tall and gangly, while Sam who was eight, was a bit small for his age. Audry’s life was pretty full, what with dropping the kids off at school, tennis with her girlfriends on Thursdays, the book club once a month on Fridays and soccer with Sam and netball with Claire on Saturdays. The rest of the time was spent doing housework. John demanded the house be kept spotless and she was not one to disobey. In fact if she could admit it to herself she was actually a bit scared of John, for beneath that smooth exterior she sensed a certain deep rage, that occasionally showed itself through a biting remark, when something wasn’t to his liking.
“Where are the kids Hon?” asked John
“Sam's in his room on the computer and Claire's over the road at Susie’s house.”
“He’s always on that bloody computer, why doesn’t he get out and run around, like I used to when I was a kid?”
“Well he does have his soccer on Saturdays and training on Thursday nights,” she gently reminded him.
“OK, I’ll be in the living room,” said John curtly, as he turned out of the kitchen.
He opened the drinks cabinet and poured himself a Glenlivet Scotch. Only the best these days, not like the cheap whisky he used to drink in the old days.
He poured a good double nip. What the heck. It was Friday and he had finished the week off with an excellent sale. He tipped in another good nip.
He pushed back into his cream leather lounge, shoes off, with his scotch on the side table. Yes he had done well considering those bloody rich people he was forced to deal with. He had found the buyer’s wife particularly dislikable. Like him she was an upstart, a frumpy middle-aged woman who treated her husband like he was her slave. Fancy being married to that witch he thought, no wife of mine would talk to me like that. Anyway, she had probably paid $200,000 more than the property was worth, so he had had his revenge on her.
He looked around the room. Not bad, but his next home was going to be bigger and have a tennis court as well as a pool. Not that he could play tennis. It was however a status symbol to have a tennis court and Audry’s father George had one. This would do for now, but John was never satisfied, always on the move, always looking for more.
He was still admiring his home, when he suddenly the front door swung open. In came his daughter Claire with Susie from over the road. Claire was now much taller than Susie, but that Susie wow!
“Hi Dad.”
“Hello Mr. Mason.”
There was something about that hello from Susie, that was very sexy and provocative.
Susie like Claire was 16, but not at all gangly. He marv
eled at her picture perfect face, her long dark brown hair and perfect olive skin. She was standing right in front of him now, in her shorty, shorty hot pants. Her tits were now starting to grow and he could see her nipples through her loose thin blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra and probably needed to now.
“Hello girls, what have you two been up to?” he asked unconsciously staring at Susie's tits.
“Just hanging out Dad,” answered Claire.
John looked away and picked up his scotch. He had suddenly become aware he was staring at Susie’s tits and sensed she was also aware of it.
“Susie and I are just going up to my room.”
“OK see you later.”
John watched them as they walked away. He kept staring at Susie’s tight little arse from behind. She had already mastered the art of sexy movement as she walked. Just wiggling it enough to be a turn on. He felt a movement in his groin area.
Wow, what a fuckable piece of crumpet that Susie had become. To think that in a few years time some pimply, smelly, fumbling teenage twit, was going to be all over that lovely tight little body.
He took a big gulp of his scotch. Yeah, that's one sexy little chick.
He sat there for a while thinking. He would have to return that rake to Susie’s mother Alice and buy a new one for himself. He had meant to stop at the hardware store on the way home to buy one, but was too busy thinking about the sale he had made and had forgotten. Anyway he would have to rake up those pesky leaves before returning it. He was just about to get up and pour another scotch when he heard a sexy, almost whispering voice.
“Mr. Mason, Claire’s yo yo has a knot in it. Can you get it out?” said Susie, who was standing right in front of him.
“Well, I’ll see what I can do.”
Susie handed him the yo yo but as she did, her naked knee rubbed up against him. He felt the lump in his groin coming up again. Did she do that on purpose he wondered?
As he tried to undo the knot Susie leaned over watching him. He could smell her sweet perfume and her tits looked even larger and more inviting close up.
“So Susie, what have you been up to lately?” John asked engaging her in conversation.
“ Not much Mr. Mason, do you like my new locket, my boyfriend gave it to me?”
With that Susie leant forward so John could see it. Of course as she did her blouse fell forward, giving him a full view down from the locket around her neck.”
John struggled to control his words. He now had a full view of her tits and beautiful erect nipples.
“That’s..... a lovely locket!..... but aren't you a bit young to be getting gifts from boyfriends?” John managed to blurt out.
Cool as a cucumber Susie replied,
“Mr. Mason, I have had boyfriends since I was twelve. I have been going with this one for nearly a year now.”
I’ll bet you have, thought John, just as the knot came out of the yo yo.
“Got it, that's right now,” said John, handing it back to her.
“Thanks..... Mr Mason,” she said slowly in her husky voice and this time, as she reached for the yo yo, she rubbed her arm against his shoulder.
That little tart, there could be no doubt now, she was definitely doing it all on purpose and it seemed like she was totally aware of the effect she was having on him, judging from that provocative look on her face.
Again, she caught his eye as she turned and left the room, with that same wiggle of her tight little arse. He was really quite turned on now. But suddenly a voice from the kitchen brought him tumbling back to reality.
“Could you come and cut the roast for me Hon?”
Chapter 2 In the Beginning
The home John was sitting in, was a far cry from his origins.
He had been born and brought up in a two bedroom, 1920’s Californian bungalow, in a working class suburb. Typical of these homes it had the two bedrooms at the front, with a hallway, splitting into a lounge and dining room. This led through to a kitchen and small breakfast area, at the rear. It had a driveway down the side and a timber garage out in the small backyard. Very ordinary and with small windows, making it a bit dark inside. His mother although a caring woman, was not much of a home decorator and as finances were limited, the furniture was old and the carpet worn in places.
As an only child, John had the smaller of the two bedrooms and had made it his own by pasting up pictures of his favourite pop stars, all around the walls. John’s bed consisted of a mattress on a wooden base, that his father had made. It was sufficient, but had a dip in the middle and really should have been replaced. His father had also made him a desk to do his homework at and a rickety chair, that John was sure was going to collapse one day, especially when he leant back on it, as he was quite often inclined to do.
His father was a plumber, but a lousy businessman. At one time he had tried to run his own business, but had nearly gone bankrupt and had almost had to sell the house. In order to prevent this, his mother had got a job in the local sandwich shop, to help pay off the debts.
Not that John’s father was a bad plumber; in fact he was very good at his work and always did an excellent job. However he was a kind hearted man, who would do work for free for little old ladies and others who were down on their luck. John always suspected that many of these people, took advantage of his father’s good nature. He also employed an assistant, who was down on his luck and was a bit of an “alcho”. At least John always thought he could smell alcohol on his breath. What with, under charging, paying the alcho, who was not carrying his weight in the business and not keeping his paperwork up to date, he had got into financial trouble and finally been forced to work for someone else.
He liked nothing better than a beer at the pub with his mates. His idea of a night out was fish and chips at the local RSL Club.
John liked his father but not his lifestyle. He was determined to do better.
With his father almost going bankrupt, John was encouraged to leave school early, to lessen the financial burden on the family. He had finally agreed with his father, that he would get a part time job to help out, if he could continue at school. He asked around at the local shops and with other local businessmen, but times were tough and there were no part time jobs available. In the end, John decided he would have to start his own business. For many years he had been doing most of the gardening around the family home so it was natural for him to start a gardening business, using his father’s lawn mower and other garden tools. After school he did a letterbox drop and put leaflets all around the neighbourhood. He got three replies and he was in business. However this was a working class suburb and people were not prepared to pay much for gardening. John was working hard after school and on the weekends, growing the business, but not making much money.
He had a think about it. He knew that there were some rich suburbs over the river, only a few kilometres away. Not only did people there have larger gardens, but he reasoned they would likely also be prepared to pay more. He did a letterbox drop and presto, he got two hits. He was moving up. To get his equipment there, his father helped him build a type of trailer for his bicycle and off he would go after school. He called himself the “lawnmower man”.
This is how he had first met his wife Audry. She lived in one of the big houses where he was the gardener. It was a fine double story house, with a pool, tennis court and an orchard house out the back. A mansion compared to John’s parents house. Audry’s father George was pleased with the work John was doing and also gave him a job to clean the pool. This meant John had to go there more often and would sometimes talk to Audry, as she was coming home from school.
Audry’s friend Elizabeth told her she shouldn’t get so familiar with John, as he was only a gardener and not like the private school boys they usually hung out with. However Audry found John fascinating. He was very cocky and forward for a gardener. She could sense he was a guy who was going places. He was handsome into the bargain and looked very fit from all his gardening work.
/> It wasn’t long before John and Audry were meeting secretly. She would often sneak out at night and meet John at the local shopping centre. By the time John turned 17 he had saved enough to buy an old ute. It was pretty rough and he did most of the work on it himself, to save money. He could now pick Audry up from school, but would drop her off around the corner, so her parents wouldn’t see them.
As well as sneaking out, Audry started to ask John along to various parties she was invited to. She told her parents she was going with Elizabeth and sometimes they actually did take Elizabeth with them, in the ute, while other times they went alone.
This was introducing John into a whole new social scene, but he did not like most of the private school boys who attended these parties. He called them toffs. However, in a number of cases their fathers were working class men, who had worked their way up. John had no trouble getting on with these guys. He actually got some gardening work from a couple of them.