Tangled Web
Chicago, Illinois
July 3, 1956
Stopping on the ninth floor, the stainless-steel elevator door silently slid open.
Tall and light-complexioned, having close-cropped, muddy-gray hair, the moderately handsome man wore a crumpled seersucker suit and – his loosened tie hanging askew – a wrinkled white dress shirt open at the collar.
Glancing nervously to the left, then leaning his head around the corner, to the right. Satisfied that there was no-one in the hallway, stepping out of the elevator, walking quickly to the adjacent door – having called from the intercom in the outer lobby – knowing the door was ajar, pushing it open, stepping inside, “Rhea?” closing the door, the man locked it.
“Morrie, in here!”
Three steps taking him out of entry, into the living-room...
***
Nearing age forty-five, Rhea remembered how she’d felt about herself earlier, when she was younger: her face, her figure, everything about her – with the exception of her thin legs, and the fact that her breasts sagged – was exactly the way she liked... She was beautiful! She knew it every time she looked in a mirror. She knew it by the way people, especially men, looked at her, by the way they treated her...
But it was not, so Rhea thought, the way it is now.
When Rhea looked in the mirror now, to her, her face was haggard, her eyes shadowed, her stomach soft and crisscrossed with stretch-marks. And, yes, her heavy breasts did sag, although, due to their size they’d always drooped, only now, to her, her breasts sagged.
Actually, the pregnancy caused stretch-marks had faded to barely noticeable lines across her abdomen, and true , her stomach, hips and buttocks were slightly larger and rounder, and yes, her facial features had softened...
But Rhea was almost forty-five, and the image her mirror reflected was no longer that of the young woman she’d been. What Rhea saw in the mirror then – what she found hard to accept – was the image of a mature woman.
In truth, physically, Rhea Goldman was lovelier than ever.
***
Wearing a leopard-skin patterned nylon robe, Rhea lay on her left side with her elbow propped on the armrest, with the side of her head resting upon the palm of her hand. The upper end of the zipper open ten to twelve inches, the purposeful position she was in – forming a deep fissure – the length of her right breast lay upon the length of the left breast.
Standing a moment, he looked at her from across the room. Crossing the room, sitting on the edge of the sofa, “We’re having the kids over tomorrow, for the Fourth, you know, and Dottie’s expecting me home to take her shopping, so I can only stay a couple of minutes, but...”
Turning onto her back, the motion caused the robe to part, exposing most of both breasts. Teasing him, reaching to him, Rhea held the back of his neck in one hand... and put the other high up on his thigh.
“Uh, I wanted to stop by to let you know that...” No longer speaking, unable to resist, pulling the tab to the zipper downward, using only his forefinger, he lifted the edge of the leopard-skin patterned material that partially covered Rhea’s breast, exposing it completely.
***
A diminutive woman, Dorothy, Morrie’s wife was so flat-chested that her chest was actually concave, and man, always wanting that which man does not have, Morrie, of course, had a breast fetish.
***
“Uh, I wanted to let you know that... uh, I can only stay a couple of minutes, but... um, to, uh...”
Her fingers, absently moving to the inner seam – all but jumping at her touch – she touched him.
Rhea Goldman and Morris Jacobson had known each other intimately for four years. But even so, each time she touched him, there, Morrie bounced, and Rhea loved to make Morrie bounce.
“Uh,” finding his voice, “I wanted to let you know that that thing you wanted me to take care of...”
Sitting up, “For my son-in-law?”
Both breasts fully exposed, “Yeah.” forcing his eyes to her face. “We kind’a lucked into something. You know, when we first talked about it...”
***
At age fifty-five, Morris Jacobson was a political hack on the north side of Chicago. Although a hack, Morrie was an influential, well know hack. A man whom local politicians could rely on to solve many of the troublesome problems between themselves and their constituency. Because of this, Morris Jacobson was a man who had “connections” throughout City Hall, including the Cook County Assessors Office, of which he’d taken monetary advantage for himself, his friends, members of his family, and also Rhea Goldman, because the way Morrie repaid Rhea for her “friendship” was that on occasion he’d pass on a bit if information regarding a “neat” piece of property that might be on the list to be confiscated by the State of Illinois in lieu of unpaid, back taxes.
Rhea then called around until she found another of her “friends” that might be interested, then relayed the information.
When a deal was made – always for thousands beneath the assessed value of the property – Rhea received a secret cash commission that she stashed into her own private safety deposit box.
This secret stash, primarily, was where the cash came from to pay for Marsha and Mitchell’s diamond engagement rings and their large wedding.
The only direct favor she had ever asked of Morrie – besides, if he knew a way to get Mitchell transferred from the Halfmoon into an office job – was to...
“Get the fire inspector off my back!” Regarding a slum apartment building that she and Eli and, unknown to them, Marsha and Mitchell owned with the money received from their wedding, that Rhea was holding for safekeeping. The money for the slum apartment building coming from – so Eli had been told by his wife – the money came from Rhea’s mother, whom, for some reason did not want her name on the Deed of Trust, and insisted the entire transaction be kept wholly secret from all the members of the family.
So Eli had been told. “So don’t say anything to her! Okay, Eli?” his wife had warned.
Deep down her three sisters and brother knew Rhea prostituted herself, but refused to admit, or mention to Eli, where their baby sister’s “extra money” came from.
Rhea’s mother still gave gifts of “things” or cash to her children. But by that time Pearl had become a bit addled anyway, so, certainly, if asked by his “China doll wife”, Eli was not about to mention the building to the family, or speak to Pearl about her very generous gift.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave...
