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EJ thought everything was perfect, and then it came crashing down upon him. Sort of.

The country club hosted a recently returned astronaut and his wife. A genuine hero. While astronaut, Edwin Prescott played golf with the most prestigious members of the club, Mrs. Prescott was the guest of honor at a tea hosted by the leading ladies of the club. Mrs. Prescott was the former Dr. Ellen Butler, the astrophysicist who interviewed Eliot for NASA three times and spent a number of weekends with him. Most of that time she was on her back and on her knees.

As it sometimes happens at any event, someone spilled something; in this case a pot of tea. The ceramic teapot shattered. Naturally, they called the janitor to clean up the mess. That janitor as you know was EJ Rascher, aka Eliot Rascher, boy genius, but that was then, this was now.

Mrs. Prescott (Ellen Butler) was certain, even with the shaggy hair, unshaven face, the uniform, that it was the same Eliot who she'd interviewed, fucked and sucked five years early. She didn't say anything.

He didn't acknowledge her. There was no reason to embarrass her in front of these "ladies." Besides, to EJ it was as if that was another life; a life he'd chosen to forget.

Later that afternoon, Mrs. Prescott was enjoying a private cocktail with the woman who arranged the party, Mrs. Lenora Davis. "Lenora, can I tell you something in the strictest confidence?"

"Of course." The woman was hoping for some juicy gossip about the astronauts or NASA or maybe even the President of the United States, who Mrs. Prescott had met numerous times.

"The janitor, he's very familiar. If he is who I think he is, you would be shocked by what he has and what he can do."

"EJ?"

"Oh yes, the man is, I can't tell you how I know this, but the stallions in your stable have nothing on him. His name is Eliot Rascher. Look him up, he's a genius."

Mrs. Prescott proceeded to give Mrs. Davis a synopsis of his academic and intellectual achievements. They were both sophisticated ladies; Mrs. Prescott did not say anything more about his prowess in bed; it wasn't necessary. Mrs. Davis understood.

The following day, after Astronaut Edwin Prescott and Mrs. Prescott left New York, Lenora Davis marched into the club's human resources' office. "Mr. Cavanaugh, I have some concerns about EJ, the janitor. May I see his job application?"

It was unusual for a club member to make such a request, but Mr. and Mrs. Davis were very powerful members, and Mr. Cavanaugh was a recently hired employee.

EJ claimed on his application that he was a high school drop-out. Lying on his application was grounds for dismissal. Mrs. Davis had a better idea. After "Googling" him to confirm what Mrs. Prescott said, she confronted him.

She confronted him in private, in her home just off the fifth tee of the country club. A home she did not share with Mr. Adam Davis who preferred to live in their Manhattan penthouse apartment or their Boca Raton condo. In those places, as Mrs. Davis well-knew from her private detective's report he entertained twenty-something women.

Mrs. Lenora Davis was not a twenty-something woman, and she hadn't been one in thirty years. She'd also not enjoyed her husband's affection in almost fifteen years although she'd made it clear on numerous occasions that she was willing. "Adam, my mouth, my pussy and even my ass are always available to you."

Adam Davis no longer found his wife attractive. Over the years, after

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