The Weekday Trollop!

You know, I didn't actually start out to write a trilogy about all the women tramping in and out this house, but there's some recent developments I thought I should mention. (This could very well be considered gossip in some circles. But who cares? Gossip to some might be vital information to others, right?)

Since this affair began I've been wondering two things about this weekday trollop. Why does she only come here on Wednesdays and Thursdays? And why do they always order pizza or Chinese delivery for dinner, and never go out in public together?

As to the first question, my confidant at the office told me she's found out that the weekday lady has a long-standing affair with another prominent gentleman here in the Hampton's on Mondays and Tuesdays of each week.

Well, okay. And the answer to that question entirely explains the second question - obviously NONE of these people want to bump into each other out in public and cause a scene. I had suspected something like this all along, but in my naivety assumed she was married and didn't want to be exposed. Hardly did I imagine she's a professional mistress with more than one client in town. Good God!

But the big news tonight is that the usual weekend girlfriend, who we more-or-less like and get along with, has found out about all this whole sordid mess. She came here early this week, packed up all her clothes, shoes, makeup and toiletries, and moved out! I wasn't sure how she found out, but now I think I've figured that out too.

Our pizza delivery girl is a huge source of dependable gossip. She knows everything going on in the community (especially who's car is parked in who's driveway overnight) and shares it all with the house staff all over town. I described her more fully in a post entitled "Do Rich People Order Pizza" some while back.

In any case, when my employer and the trollop ordered pizza on Wednesday last week our charming delivery girl told me the weekend girlfriend had called her up and pumped for information. So I guess that's the weak link right there. (Although gossip from the house staff sometimes trickles up to their employers if they're own confidential terms, and the weekend gal could have found out from other sources among the friends she's made within the community. Who can know?)

My confidant also told me today that our employer has already cancelled the weekend girlfriend's American Express card - so I guess she's gone for good.

It's sad in some ways. I hate to see the Mister left alone on the weekends. On the other hand, it's of his own making, isn't it? In the back of my mind I have a feeling this might be a power play for the weekend girlfriend - marriage or nothing - although I have no evidence to support that. When she left with all her stuff she gave me a big tearful hug, and was seemingly and genuinely hurt.

So now it's just us - the house staff, groundskeepers, the Mister and the dogs - dealing with the weekday professional and whatever new concubine comes next to close the weekend gap. As I've mentioned before, the Mister is close to a thousand years old now, while these young chicks he's running in and out of here are only in their fifties or early sixties - if that gives a clearer picture.

I'm so exhausted and appalled I can't even think straight, and don't know which way to turn from one day to the next. But just in case I need to jump out of here on short notice, I'm already cleaning out my files and updating the resume.

I hope this absurdity hasn't exhausted you too and bored you to death!

As always, thanks for dropping in this evening,
Andrew