Inseparable

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you any of that information. As you know, we are pretty strict about that kind of thing. Was it not explained to you before the auction last night?”

I walked up to the man and hand him half of the money I brought. I know that he’s probably very rich in his own right, but cash is cash and I can see that my gesture makes quite an impression on him.

“I really don’t want you to do anything illegal or against the rules, but I just liked that girl a lot and I want to take her out for dinner sometime. Do you think you could perhaps tell me where to get a hold of her… give me her number or something like that?”

The man looks at me for a moment and I can tell that he’s caught between two thoughts. On the one hand, he probably doesn’t want to jeopardize the nice business he has with these auctions. I mean, there must’ve been more than two hundred men at his mansion the previous evening and, at a thousand dollars per head entrance fee, that amounts to a nice two hundred thousand dollars for the evening, all payable to him in cash. On the other hand, I just handed him roughly 25,000 dollars and is difficult for him to walk away from that kind of bonus amount of cash. I decide to make my final play and take out the rest of the money from my pocket.

“Perhaps this will help you to make a final decision,” I say and hand him the rest of the money. He stands there with roughly 50,000 dollars in cash in his hands and I know that we’ve got a winner. He looks at me and then gestures to me that I should follow him inside.

“I’m only doing this because you’re obviously a gentleman… Please don’t mention to anyone that I gave you any information,” he says and I quickly indicate that I will keep his assistan

ce to me strictly confidential. We walk over to his office and he pulls out a file with some documents in it.

“I’m going to give you the only information that I can possibly share with you, as the details of her bank account and so on is definitely off the table,” he says.

“I totally understand, whatever information you can give me will be appreciated,” I say and looked at him expectantly.

“Well, her surname is Williams… Jenny Williams, and that’s all I can tell you.”

“Thank you, that helps a lot and I truly appreciate you helping me with this!” I say and my heart starts beating excitedly inside my chest. I quickly leave the mansion and drive out the gates as fast as I can. Now that I know her name I feel confident that it won’t be too long before I physically locate her.

“Jenny Williams get ready, here I come!” I shout as I drive back to my own place with the wind whistling past me on my Harley Davidson.

I get home and rush inside. The first thing I do is to grab a local telephone directory and I start looking for the name ‘Jenny Williams’. My heart sinks when I discover that there are seventeen people by the name of ‘Jenny Williams’ listed for my area. What’s more, when I start dialing the numbers many of them no longer exist. I take a look at the front cover of the telephone directory and realize that it’s more than 10 years old. Having spent the last couple of years on the road, I haven’t really had time to do stuff like getting the latest telephone directory. Most of these things are now digital anyway and I’m struck by the thought that I might have better success if I just go onto the Internet and look her up there.

I open up my laptop, find the Google search page and type in ‘Jenny Williams’. But this search yields even less than my telephone directory efforts, as there are thousands upon thousands of internet pages with the name ‘Jenny Williams’ on it. Not only is it a very common name, it also seems there are many characters in books and novels bearing the name ‘Jenny Williams’.

“Dammit!” I exclaim and slam my laptop shut. I rack my brains for a possible solution to my predicament and then it strikes me… Facebook!

I quickly open up my laptop again and find my Facebook profile. I haven’t been on it for ages, so it takes me a while before I remember the password. When I finally get onto my homepage I quickly type ‘Jenny Williams’ in the search box. The results are fairly similar to what I got on the Internet… There are so many profiles bearing the name ‘Jenny Williams’ that I quickly realize it’s going to be an impossible task to check all of them. Not only are there too many profiles to check, many of the profiles don’t have a picture of a face and I’m never going to know when I’m actually looking at the profile of the ‘Jenny Williams’ I’m looking for.

I walk over to the kitchen and make a massive pot of fresh coffee. I’m not about to give up and, even if it takes me the rest of the weekend and twenty pots of black coffee, I’m going to figure out a way to find her!

Chapter 5: Jenny

I’m so excited when the taxi drops Stacy and me off in front of her apartment that I can barely contain myself. We run inside and go on to my Internet banking base just to make sure the whole thing is actually real. I login and there it is again… My balance is now seven hundred and fifty-two thousand dollars. The other two thousand dollars was all I had in my account before last night and now I am rich!

“You know, until I saw my bank balance going over seven and fifty thousand dollars I thought the whole thing might just be a hoax,” I say with a happy grin and Stacy dances around her apartment like little kid who’s just got the bike for Christmas.

“It’s absolutely unbelievable! I want you to tell me each and every single little detail of what happened last night,” Stacy says and sits down in front of me with a very expectant look on her pretty face. I look at her and suddenly feel incredibly grateful to who is my best friend. If it wasn’t for her I would never even have known about the Virgin auction.

“I promise you I’m going to tell you everything that happened… but right now I’m beginning to feel a bit tired,” I said, and really meant it. I guess the act of fucking eleven bikers all night has finally gotten to me and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it over to my own apartment before I fall asleep.

“You know what? I’m also feeling tired and I don’t want to miss a single thing when you finally tell me all about it, so I think we should both take a little nap right now,” Stacy says and I immediately fall down on my back on her comfortable couch. Stacy drops down on the opposite end of the same couch and drags a blanket over the both of us. She always keeps a blanket nearby, as she spends most of her evenings on the couch, watching TV. It doesn’t take long before I drifted off to dreamland and, not surprisingly, I fall into such a deep sleep that I don’t even remember what I dreamed when I wake up later that same day.

“Man, I really enjoyed that little nap,” Stacy says and rubs her eyes as she sits up straight on the couch after waking up a couple of minutes after me.

“I guess it’s time I told you all about the juicy details of what I did with those bikers upstairs in the mansion last night,” I say with a naughty grin, “but I’ve been thinking about it and I believe the two of us deserve to treat ourselves a little tonight!”

“That sounds great… What exactly is it that you have in mind?” Stacy asks. I look at her for a moment and then make up my mind.

“You and I are going to go to the most expensive restaurant in Los Angeles and have ourselves a real stylish time!” I shout excitedly and then both of us jump to our feet and embrace to start off the evening’s celebrations. We both go to Stacy’s room and she borrows me one of her outfits, a trendy little red number and silver sandals to go with it. I look in the mirror and realize I haven’t even taken off my earrings. They actually go quite nicely with the outfit, so I keep them on and splash some quick makeup on my face. That said, I don’t think we need to spend any more time making ourselves pretty,” I say and Stacy nods her head in quick agreement.

“Okay, I’m ready to go!” She says and the next moment we are on our way to ‘Les Mans’, the most expensive French restaurant in Los Angeles. We take a taxi and I give the guy a twenty dollar tip as we get out. Stacy just smiles at my extravagance and we bounce inside the restaurant and find ourselves a beautiful table near the window.

“Good evening Madame,” a fancy French waiter says with a sexy French accent as he hands us each a menu, “Can I get you anything to drink and some tasty hors d’oeuvres to start the evening?”

“Yes thank you,” I say in my most modest voice, “We will take the most expensive champagne you have and after that we’ll decide what we want to have for hors d’oeuvres.” My pronunciation of the French word is so funny that Stacy bursts out laughing and I cannot contain myself either, so I laugh out loud with her.