Adulterous Affair

To be completely honest, I can't say too much on how it feels to have an adulterous affair, even though I had one. The woman was married, I was not. She didn't tell me until after we had become involved. The deed being done, all I could think at that point was going back and forth between thinking it was cool, and thinking it wasn't so cool, and finally deciding to remain neutral as she hadn't really shared everything with me. No rings, by the way. Certainly wasn't obvious.

I met her while working on a feature film. We were shooting in Soap Lake, WA, and among other jobs on this project, I was in charge of casting all the extras. On this particular night, several were handed to me by the local theater manager, who had agreed to help us recruit, as it was a last minute concern and a very small town.

The woman in question struck me on a few levels. First, she was attractive, in most conventional ways. On top of which she had a great rack, and boy howdy am I a sucker for tits. Beyond that, however, and this was key, we talked while sitting around waiting for the extras to be called (a lot of my job that night, during shooting, was to keep the extras organized and make picks as the ADs called for extras). We talked for hours, actually. And she was interesting. And we got along and shared some laughs. Towards the end of the night, she offered to take any interested parties out to one of the local watering holes. I ended up being the only taker, and made sure of it.

We went to a divey bar with an interesting group of patrons, and a bartender that said he was familiar with Illinois driver's licenses (which I took to meant he was another guy that had gotten the fuck out of that state and moved west). We had a couple drinks and people watched a little, talked about the film. As that bar closed soon after we got there (we had filmed until about midnight that night), we hit a casino before last call there, and then just drove to a park and talked some more. And kissed. And made plans to get a hotel together the next night.

The next day on set, I had questions to answer. I thought it may be coming. All it took was for ONE PERSON to see me get in that car the night before and jet off. Fucking immature,d gossipy fucks on that set. It was the gaffer, nonetheless, a rather dudely dude from Boston. Everyone I've met from Boston has a big mouth.

"So, heard you had a good night last night." This came from the best boy grip. A few of the guys stood around asking me about the night before, and my new friend from Illinois, an intern that had come along to help on set for a few days, the lone female in this particular conversation, stood by.

"Yeah. It was cool."

Little more was asked or said, but everyone thought it was good for me I got out and had a little fun with a local for the night. No one knew yet about the night to come.

It was a long day. I had the shit job of the day (as it so often went on this project), as it was up to me to restrict traffic during shooting. I was on one end, the aforementioned female on the other. Being we were in the middle of the Moses Lake sand dunes in the morning of a weekday, there was little to do but stand around by myself wishing the day would hurry up so I could get laid already.

The night went a little quicker. It was cold, and the ones without a ton to do huddled in the tent by the propane heaters, sharing some jokes with one another, funny stories, the producer would come and go, the talent would come and go, the snacks came and went. And finally, wrap was called for the day, we hustled to pick up the area, and I got the fuck out of there.

That night, the extra and I went out for a drink again, but last call was imminent, and we soon moved to the hotel. As one not so much for kiss and tell, I'll leave it at this. Best sex of my life. And again in the morning.

Then back to work.

Eviction

There was a knock at the door. "Just a second," I yelled from the bathroom. I was about to head out anyway, and stepped towards the door, about to reach out and turn the knob. If I had taken one more step, I probably would have had a concussion, as the door was violently kicked in and six uniformed sheriff's agents came rushing in. One had a gun trained at my forehead standing only three feet from me.

"Arms up! Now!"

'What the fuck," I thought. I knew the eviction was coming, but this was unreal. A gun aimed at my head and six officers surrounding me and patting me down.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked the guy feeling in and out of every pocket and crevice on me.

"We just want to make sure we get home tonight."

"I can understand that. But I pose no threat."

The others mostly just stood around and watched, with smirks on their faces, inhuman and completely unfeeling to the fact that one of them, a fellow being on this earth, was about to forced into homelessness at gunpoint.

When he was done patting me down, the officer instructed me to sit on the bed. Another finished checking all over the apartment and told the others it was clear. It was only at this point anyone bothered to ask, "Are you Jack Epner?"

"Yeah."

"OK. Bye, Jack."

"Let me just grab a few of my things."

"No!"

"They're my personal belongings."

"You can get the hell out of here and look in the trash later, if you'd like."

Had these guys forgotten that these were my personal belongings, things I had a legal right to? Apparently this is how sheriff's officers get new shit. I went by the trash later and NOTHING was there. I was left with nothing but the clothes on my back. Upon doing some research later, it also appeared they may have used unnecessary force, but this is the Cook County Sheriff. For those that don't know, Cook County is one of the most corrupt counties in the country (Chicago may not have the same reputation for organized crime and corruption it once did, but I assure you both are alive and well in that city . . . more to come on that later).