Stephen Ford's Mountain View Resort

by

RJMcD

 

Chapter One

Eight Months Ago –

 

The Carey's and Moore's lived next door to each other, and the guys had started buddying around. Michael – always Michael, never Mike – Grunelli lived one street over, and worked with Alan Lautier, who lived in the next sub-division down Worly Road. The four of them had started with a Saturday night poker game, and then moved it to Thursday nights. They then used Saturdays for going to games – hockey, basketball, whatever was in season. Entire weekends of "male bonding" soon became the norm, and their wives gradually became less important in their lives.

Isis Moore had only been married to Gordon for two years, and Patti and Bill Carey hadn't reached the three-year mark yet, so they were the most sensitive to the increasing number of sleights they suffered.

"Ever since the boys started getting together, I've seen Bill changing," Patti said, one day.

"I know," Isis said. "Me, too. Gordon acts like he's stopped caring. I tried to talk to him about it, but he said I was stupid, that it was just my imagination. I don't understand it."

"Let's talk to Anne and Marcia," Patti suggested.

"Big time," Marcia said when the four of them got together, and Isis asked if Marcia's husband had been acting different lately. "He behaves like he was single again. Suddenly I'm supposed to be his maid and cook, instead of his wife."

"You mean you two don't...." Isis said, letting the sentence trail off.

"Maid and cook and girlfriend," Marcia clarified. "He still wants plenty of that. But he used to be more thoughtful in bed, too, Now, it's almost like I'm a hooker, and I'm just there to service him. What the hell's going on with these guys?"

"I think they're bad for each other," Anne Lautier said. "I'm not blaming any of them specifically. But when they get together, they come home acting all macho man. I don't like it at all."

"Oh, I'm not saying its Alan's fault or Bill's fault, or Michael's or Gordon's," Isis said.

"We know you aren't, honey," Marcia said. "I think Anne's right, though: they aren't good chemistry for each other. We ought to try to keep them separated."

"That could be trouble," Anne said. "They'll get pissed off, and be twice as bad."

"Then what do we do, Anne?" Patti asked.

"I don't know," Anne said. "Maybe try to rebuild our relationships to the way they were, each of them – if that can be done. Alan and I have changed in the six years we've been married, but nothing like the change he's been going through since the guys started hanging out together. I don't know what the answer is, but I do know that every time they get together Alan comes home acting worse and worse."

"If this goes on I'd hate to think what the future's going bring," Isis said.

 

Chapter Two

Five Months Ago –

 

"He HIT you?" Marcia shrieked.

"No, Marcia, he didn't hit me. Gordon wouldn't do that. His momma would kill him," Isis Moore said.

"But you said your hip was bruised," Anne Lautier said. She was the counter to Marcia Grunelli's predictable emotional outburst, and well aware that the others thought of her as the most clearheaded and practical in their quartet.

"'Cause I bounced off the chair and landed on the floor," Isis said, a defensive tone creeping into her voice.

"Because he pushed you!" Marcia said.

"He meant to push me into the chair," Isis said.

"Huh!" Marcia said, turning away.

The four women fell into silence, and it slowly became clear to all of them what had happened. Patti Carey, always the quiet one in their group, was the first to say what they were thinking.

"He did hit you, didn't he, Isis?" she said softly.

Isis Moore turned and started to deny it, but something in Patti's gentle expression made her stop. The two young women, one with pale red hair and alabaster skin, the other with thick, black hair and mocha skin, joined at that moment in the common garden of female woes. Isis Moore burst into tears, and they instinctively wrapped their arms around each other.

"I knew it!" Marcia Grunelli muttered to Anne Lautier. "I fuckin' knew it." Lautier sighed and shook her head.

The four women were standing in Lautier's kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew. They were together because it was Saturday night, and their husbands were away for the weekend. This time it was hunting. On other weekends it was fishing, or camping, or who knew what. Lately they hardly bothered telling their wives what they were going to do. That was part of the trend.

"Michael hits me," Marcia Grunelli said, when they were all seated at the kitchen table.

Instead of the exclamations she expected, there was silence around the table. None of the other women looked at each other. Two took sips of coffee, and Patti just stared at the cup in front of her.

"Pretty hard," Marcia said. "Not where it would show. Never in the face. He did it the first time a month ago, and he was full of apologies. He doesn't apologize anymore."

"It's getting worse," Anne said.

Marcia nodded.

In a quiet, even voice, Patti spoke. "Last Thursday night I tried to get Bill to stay home, and not go to their poker game. We argued real bad. He tied me to the bed and gagged me, and then left."

"Jesus, Patti, suppose there'd been a fire or something?" Anne said.

"I know," Patti said softly. She couldn't look at any of them.

The quartet lapsed into silence again, each of them involved with their own thoughts, their own problems.

"You were right, Marcia," Isis Moore said softly. "Gordon punched me in the chest, and that's how I fell and bruised my hip. He twisted my arm once, until I cried, and it was sore for three days. It didn't show."

"Oh, Isis, I'm so sorry," Anne Lautier said.

"The Abused Wife's Club," Marcia said, quiet anger in her voice. "What about you, Anne? Has Alan hit you?"

"No," Anne said. She took a sip of coffee, holding the cup in front of her face when she finished. Her eyes had a distant look. She spoke so softly the others almost couldn't hear her. "He raped me," she said.

"What!" Marcia said.

"Alan raped me. I would never do anal sex, and two weeks ago, he said the wife should please her husband, and I'd do it, or else. We fought, but he's stronger. He won," she said. She blinked and a single tear dropped from each eye.

"Oh, baby," Isis said.

Anne let out a breath, and put her cup down. She sat up straight and looked at the other women.

"Have any of you ever heard of Stephen Ford's Mountain View Resort?" she asked.

 

Chapter Three

The Present –

 

"Security?" Bill Carey asked, as he pulled the all-back SUV with tinted windows (making it look more like a Suburban Assault Vehicle) up to the guarded gate.

"It's pretty exclusive," Patti said. "We were really lucky that Anne won the tickets. I don't think we could have afforded it otherwise." She thought of herself as a poor liar, someone who was always exposed the minute she tried to misdirect or fib, but Bill didn't seem to notice. Eight or nine months ago he would have caught on immediately, questioning the improbable proposition that Anne Lautier had won, so conveniently, four sets of tickets to a ritzy mountain hideaway during the peak summer season. The reality was that it had taken them five months to get reservations.

"We don't need that prize stuff. We can afford it," Bill said.

He showed the tickets, passes and picture IDs to the guard, and drove through, as soon as the gate was opened. He pulled the vehicle up behind the Grunelli's fire engine red SUV, which had pulled to the side of the long driveway. Patti twisted in her seat, and looked back. The Lautier's Lexus was stopped at the gate, and the guard was examining the tickets and passes. The Moore's earth tone SUV was waiting behind them.

"It has to cost them a fortune to maintain these grounds," Bill said. "High six figures, with the amenities. Are they open in the winter?" He didn't wait for an answer. "They must lose their shirts in the winter."

Patti turned forward in her seat and looked out the front windshield. The winding drive curved up the side of a small mountain. The April rains had fed the greenery, and it had responded by bursting into rapid and healthy growth. The grass, and neatly spaced trees and shrubs along the road, were professionally trimmed. At the end of the road, some three-quarters of a mile away, they could make out the form of a two-story hotel with a multi-peaked, high-pitched roof.

Before getting married, one of Patti's dreams had been to become an architect, and she recognized the hotel's style as the Sullivan County Tutor "Swiss Chalet" form that Grossinger's had made famous up in the Catskills. The whole scene had a near magical look about it, with everything almost too perfect to be real.

"A gingerbread hotel," Bill said. "I don't want to be critical of something that's free, but I think they overdid it with the look, Too fairy tale." He leaned forward, as if getting a foot closer to the distant hotel would actually help him see it clearer. "The brochure did say they had a trout stream, right?"

"Yes, Bill," Patti said.

Alan Lautier and Gordon Moore tapped their horns as they drove past, and the Careys and Grunellis pulled out and followed them to the hotel's entrance.

Four bellboys carried their bags to Reception, and then, doubling as valets, went off to park the vehicles. The guys behind the desk were all dressed in identical Navy blue golf shirts and white slacks. Though the men moved as a unit toward the one clerk who seemed unoccupied, Anne Lautier cut them off.

"We've got to show our prize tickets," she said, reaching out to take them out of the men's hands.

"Yeah," her husband said. "Okay, sure. You take care of this stuff for us."

The group followed her to the counter.

"Lautier, Grunelli, Moore and Carey," she said, handing the clerk the tickets and passes.

He smiled. "Welcome to Stephen Ford's Mountain View Resort." He looked at the tickets, and his smile widened. He looked up, but not at Anne Lautier. His eyes passed her, and looked at the group standing behind her. "I'll call Mr. Ford, and let him know you've arrived."

"There actually is a Stephen Ford?" Michael Grunelli said.

"Oh yes, there sure is," the clerk said. "He built this place ten years ago, and runs it on a day to day basis. Heck of a guy. I'm sure he'll want to say hello to, uh. . . .the winners of the. . uh,.con. . .of the passes."

"The contest," Anne Lautier said quickly.

"Right," the clerk said. "I'll be back in just a second."

"Young shit didn't even know what the tickets were all about," Bill Carey said. He himself was twenty-nine, though he made every attempt to make others feel that he deserved to be treated like a middle-aged mogul.

Stephen Ford turned out to be a tall, good-looking man with blonde hair, and the athletic build that seemed to be required of all his employees. As he joined the four couples, and everyone introduced themselves, he congratulated them on winning the free week, and promised that nothing would be spared to make this a memorable vacation for all of them.

Though Ford had the smoothness of an upmarket salesman, the place itself had impressed them enough for them to welcome his public relations patter.

"You all got the brochures we sent you?" he asked. They all had. "Good. Our golf course is nine holes, which was tough enough in this terrain, but it provides some challenges for you, if you like to swing a club. We’ve got a putting green and a driving range. Enjoy our stables, if you ride. You guys look like you’re in pretty good shape."

"Our wives all went on one of those silly Oprah health things a few months ago," Alan said, "Low-fat, low-cholesterol, that kind of malarkey. We wouldn’t have put up with it, but the food’s damn tasty. It sure knocked the pounds off."

"As long as you get all your vitamins," Ford said.

"Oh yeah, we get vitamins twice a day. They take of that."

Ford smiled. "Great. Well, we have lots to do here: three pools, two outdoors, and one heated pool in the basement. In fact, in the basement we have a gym, squash, handball, billiards, a cigar room . . . I tell you what. Why don't we let the ladies take care of unpacking, and getting the suites ready, and the five of us guys can take a look at everything the resort has to offer? That is, if the ladies don't mind?"

"They don’t mind," Gordon said.

"No, go right ahead," Anne Lautier said quickly. "We'll unpack, and meet you guys in the room when you've had the tour."

"That works for me," Bill Carey said. "Lead the way, Mr. Ford."

"Please, call me Step," Stephen Ford said. "Everybody does."

 

Chapter Four

 

Stephen Ford knocked on the door of Anne Lautier's suite. When she opened it, she glanced at him, and looked nervously behind him. He flashed a smile, and brushed the blonde hair from his forehead. "All alone," he said. "The boys are a bit busy at the moment."

"Then . . . ?"

"Oh, yes," he said, still smiling. "May I come in?"

"Certainly! I'm sorry," Anne said, stepping out of the doorway.

"No need to apologize," he said, and walked into the livingroom. "Ah, good, you're all here," he said, when he saw Isis Moore, Patti Carey and Marcia Grunelli. "Shall we have a seat?"

The women chose seats, but their eyes never left him.

"All a little nervous?" he asked, grinning widely. "Happens all the time. Has everyone unpacked?"

The four women nodded.

"You'll love our restaurants," Ford said. "Casual dining in Avoir la Tringle, and more formal dining in le Proxemac – or twenty-four hour room service if you prefer. There's dancing in The Hot Spot, and you can have a quiet drink in Sabine’s. I'm sure ladies as beautiful as yourselves, will find you'll have plenty of eager dance partners. The boys that I hire from the colleges and farms around here, are free to frequent the hotel's facilities, as I mentioned when we met in the city last month, and many of them are good dancers. Everyone is aware of the purpose of the Resort, and everyone is discreet."

He paused.

"Our husbands . . ." Anne started.

"Are all taken care of," Ford said. "They can't hurt you. You're totally safe. Everything is on schedule. Why don't the four of you try our pool – I think there's still enough time before the sun sets. Dinner. Dancing. And who knows?"

The women were silent.

"Oh, no second thoughts are there?" Ford said smoothly.

"I . . .," Isis Moore said. "No. No, second thoughts. No. Absolutely not."

"Sure?"

"I'm very sure," she said.

He looked at the other three, and one by one, they nodded agreement.

"Good," he laughed, "because it's too late!" He stood up. "We've been over this, and you went over it again with Mr. Swope, so you know the schedule, and how my little hotel works. It cost each of you a lot of money, and we do our best to make it a very good value. But justice is its own reward, so they say."

"I agree with that," Patti Carey said.

"Me, too," Anne Lautier said.

"Give the bastard some of his own medicine, Mr. Ford," Marcia Grunelli said.

"Oh we will, Marcia, we will," Ford said. "Now I have a little surprise for you. After you've enjoyed our pool I want you all to dress casually. I've chosen four of my best looking summer employees, as your escorts for dinner this evening. You'll find them polite, attentive, and charming – a nice change, I think, from the horror you've all been living this last year. And by the way, please call me Step. Everybody does."

 

Chapter Five

 

All four wives were at the pool by eleven the next morning. Patti Carey and Isis Moore were reading paperback books, under a large pool umbrella. Patti sought the shade, because her skin was so pale she burned easily, and Isis did the same, because her brown skin was already a shade that pleased her. Marcia and Anne were on chaise lounges, talking in whispers.

"It was like freshman year all over again," Anne said.

"I knooow," Marcia said. "Wasn't it cool? The boys were so nice! God, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to talk to somebody who actually listened to what I had to say. And I didn't have to watch my words, for fear of being batted around."

"That took a little getting used to," Anne whispered. "I don't think Billy is more than twenty years old, but it took me most of the night before I could . . .I don't know, be myself I guess. I didn't realize how tense I've been this last year."

"That's the word," Marcia agreed. "I've been so defensive. Just wound up like a spring waiting for Michael to snap, and start using me as a punching bag. I was tense all the time, too."

"I'm not tense now," Anne said and giggled.

"I knew it!" Marcia exclaimed.

"Shhhh," Anne said and looked around. There were only three other guests at this pool, all of them women, and two college boys in bathing suits that seemed to be serving as life guards, waiters and window dressing all at the same time. None of them had shown any interest in Marcia's outburst.

"You got laid, didn't you?" Marcia whispered.

Anne blushed and smiled.

"Me, too!" Marcia whispered. I was plainly thrilled.

"What do you think about them?" Anne asked, nodding toward Patti and Isis.

"I asked Isis this morning in the Ladies," Marcia said. "I said no."

"I don't think Patti did either," Anne whispered.

"They're too filled with anger," Marcia said. "I was, too. I'm surprised at how fast I let go of that."

"Well, now that those turds we called husbands, are locked up like they deserve . . ." Anne said. "I feel safe for the first time in a long time."

"Amen to that," Marcia said. "Ever since our first meeting with Step last month, my imagination's been running wild. When he told us what they did here, I couldn't believe it."

"None of us could," Anne said. "I think Patti was the most shocked. It is pretty bizarre."

"But so fitting! You know damn well none of them would ever see the inside of a jail cell," Marcia said. "Step's a genius. I really believe that. We're so lucky you called that Spouse Abuse Hotline and got Maria."

"Isn't she a dream? She's probably the only volunteer there that knows about this place."

"I don't know what we would have done, if we hadn't found out about it," Marcia whispered. "When Michael and Bill forced Patti and me to do that wife swapping weekend, I know that was the last straw for her. For me, too. When Alan broke your arm, I realized it was just a matter of time before one of us got killed. They're just such heartless bastards!"

"I think Patti was ready before then. When Bill starting hitting her, like the rest of the guys were doing to the rest of us, I think that did it for her."

"It sounds crazy to say this, but when Patti told us about that, I couldn't help thinking that the guys must have egged Bill on. Like he wasn't one of the group if he didn't beat his wife. I think I believe that."

"For sure," Anne said. "Of course that's what happened."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Fuckin' sickos."

Another of the hotel's young attendants came out to the pool area, this one bearing a silver tray, with a small envelope on it. He was dressed in the hotel's summer uniform of Navy Blue golf shirt, and white slacks and shoes. He walked up to Patti, and with a half-bow, presented her with the tray.

"Isn't that the guy she was with last night?" Marcia whispered.

"Sure it is," Anne said. "I hope there's not a problem,"

Patti had put down her paperback book, and was reading the note. She grinned, and looked up at the guy in front of her. He was smiling, too. Patti glanced over at Marcia and Anne, then nodded to the guy. He put the silver tray on the patio table, and helped Patti to her feet.

"I'll catch you later," Patti told Isis, who had to force her lips together, to stop from laughing as she nodded.

"Well!" Patti said, with a little indignation. "I know, but . . . " Suddenly she laughed, and Isis lost it, too.

"I'm ready," Patti told the guy, as soon as she'd regained control. The unintended double-entendre was enough for Isis to break up all over again.

Patti rolled her eyes as she passed by Anne and Marcia.

"Three down," Marcia said.

"Three up," Anne corrected.

"Up, down, in and out," Marcia laughed. "Now we've got to get Isis in the flow of this place."

They both looked at the black woman under the beach umbrella. She was long-legged and leaned toward a slender, athletic build. Her pale orange bikini showed off her figure to the max.

"Don't'chu look at me," she said with a laugh.

"C'mon, Isis," Marcia teased.

"C'mon what?" Isis said.

"You know," Marcia said.

"Oh, I know, all right," Isis said. She picked up her paperback, and found the place she'd left off reading. She was smiling.

 

Chapter Six

 

Ford told them all what to expect, and suggested they try to suppress any reaction, but it was still a visual stunner. Marcia Grunelli started giggling, and pretty soon all four of them were trying to hold back their derisive laughter.

After leaving the basement, the women gathered in Anne Lautier's room.

"I was scared," Isis Moore said. "Knowing that Gordon would be loose, and I'd be in reach. Knowing what they'd done to him. I was really and truly scared." I smiled. "I'm sure not scared anymore!"

"When that guy brought Alan out . . ." Anne started.

"He was cute!" Marcia interrupted.

"Alan, or the boy?" Patti joked, and they all laughed.

"Both!" Anne said.

"Just like a prom parade!" Patti said.

"Yeah," Anne said. "When I saw Alan – I'm sorry – Alana being escorted out by the stud muffin, I went into shock!"

"And Glenda!" Isis laughed. "I never imagined Gordon in a dress and high heels and makeup!"

"He didn't look bad!" Anne said. "And it was nice of Step to have a black guy as his date."

"Her date!" Isis said, and started laughing so hard she had to sit on the couch.

"Like Step said, we've got to get used to calling them by their new names," Marcia said. "Melanie. My husband Melanie! My ex-husband Melanie."

"They looked so stupid trying to walk in heels," Patti said. "I just knew Bill – Bianca! Bianca. I just knew Bianca was going to fall on his face. Those ankles wobbling!" S broke into laughter. "And the curtsy! I was smoother than that when I was five years old!"

"He was terrified," Marcia said. "Were those cattle prods their guards were carrying?"

"They were something, because Alana was as scared as I was at first," Anne said. "When he came out and looked daggers at me, and Step said 'Bad Face' I think Alana about peed in his drawers. Sorry! Peed in her panties! I think he's going to get punished for that."

"She," Marcia said.

"Yeah," Anne agreed.

"I was watching Glenda," Isis said, "and when Step said that about Alana, I saw fear in Glenda's expression, too. Whatever they do to them, it must really work. And fast. I couldn't imagine Gordon, I mean Glenda, being that afraid. Huuuh-uh."

"Well I don't even want to know about that part," Patti said. "As long as it works."

"Step never did go into those details, did he? Mr. Swope either," Anne said. "But I'm with you. I don't care how they do it."

"But do you think it will work?" Patti said nervously. "I mean, all this is justice and everything, but . . . .I dunno. It's hard to believe."

"Step says they've done it hundreds of times," Anne reminded her, "with one hundred percent success. He's never lied to us yet. The bastards think it's only going to be one week, and when day eight comes around and they're still here, I think that'll be such a shock that they'll cave. I trust Step."

"Me, too," Isis said. "He's very confident."

"I guess," Patti said.

The telephone rang, and Anne Lautier answered. In a moment she turned to Isis Moore, "It's Step – for you."

"Oh, no," Isis said. "What happened?"

I took the phone and listened for a moment. "Sure," she said. More listening. "Oh, I was wondering.. . . . .She's right here . . . What is it? . . . .Thirty minutes?. . . . I can find it. I'll see you then."

After hanging up she turned to the other women. "He wants me to come down for a talk. He says he has an idea. He wouldn't say what it was."

"Mysterious," Patti said.

"Well, I better go grab a shower and get changed. I'm supposed to meet him in his office in thirty minutes."

"You'll never make it, girl," Marcia said.

"Watch me," Isis said. " She left, and the others resumed talking about their first trip to the hotel's basement, and the bizarre debutante’s stroll that had been put on for them.

They finally wound down. Anne suggested they have an early, light dinner, where Isis could join them. Then they'd all catch a quick nap before going down to The Hot Spot. Step hadn't said anything about providing escorts for the evening, so they decided to go as a group.

It was almost noon of the next day,before they found out when they next saw Isis Moore, and heard what Stephen Ford had told her.

 

Chapter Seven

 

"What do you think?" Ford said.

He and Isis were sitting in his comfortable office, a room that was more like a den than a work place. Ford was in a large chair, and Isis was sitting at the near end of the couch.

She looked up from the papers – "the script" he’d called it. "I'm still scared," she said. "You don't know how bad his temper is. He can just go crazy in a split second. And this . . . " She waved he papers. "It'll never happen. Not with Gordon."

"Glenda," Step corrected gently. "As I've told you, Isis, we've been doing this for years, and we know what we're doing. We've had every kind of spouse abuser you can imagine, including a few women who beat up their husbands. We've even had our fair share of borderline psychopaths, and it's said they don't learn from experience. You'll be with an attendant – Derek, if you choose. I understand you two hit it off rather well last night."

"That man knows how to dance," she laughed. "And talk, too. How come I didn't run into one like him, when I was going to college?"

Ford smiled, "So Derek it is. And there will be another attendant handy."

"I don't want to put on a show," she said.

"Up to you," Ford said. "He doesn't have to be in the room."

"Oh, no, I want him in the room," she said.

"Trust me, that Glenda is terrified of doing something wrong, and being punished," Ford said. "She'll do absolutely anything she's told to do."

"Not this," Isis said.

"Yes, this," he said gently. "We've had worse cases, and we tamed them just as fast."

"She doesn't even know how to do those things," Isis argued. "He's never – she's never done it to me."

"She'll know by this evening," Ford reassured her.

Isis was silent, and Ford sat back and let her mull things over.

After a minute, she said, "We could wait a couple of days, couldn't we?"

"We could," he said. "And you could mellow a little bit in a couple days. You could start rationalizing, and forget that one of you was almost killed. We've found this to be a very effective scene in the training, and I don't think it's good to skip over it."

"Mellow? After being beat up so many times by that son of a bitch? Unt-uh. Mellow? No way, Step, I’ve got this to remind me," Isis said. I held up her left hand, showing him that one finger was bent slightly away from the others. Her husband had broken it, then stormed off, and rather than face the embarrassment of going to the emergency room, she had tried to reset it herself.

"Then when?"

"Now, I guess," she said.

"You have to do more than guess, Isis," he said.

He gave her another minute, but when she hadn't said anything, he made a suggestion. "Would you be more comfortable if Derek gave the orders instead of you?"

Her smile was radiant. "That's it! YES! Oh, that will be sooo much easier."

"Done," Ford said, returning her smile.

"Let's do it," she said.

"Can you be tough?"

"Watch me," she said.

"You'll have fun, believe me," Ford said. "Why don't you take the script with you, and look it over a couple more times before this evening."

Isis smiled and shook her head. She looked at the paper she held in her hands, "Goddamn," she said. "Wow."

 

(continued)

 

 

 

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