Chapter 01: Cookie's First Trick
Fort Meade, MD
Thursday, July 19, 1979
Background: My 18-year old Filipino wife Cookie possessed a dangerous combination of exotic beauty and an insatiable appetite for sex. She had creamy brown skin and silky, long black hair, and she loved wearing sexy, revealing outfits. I was the envy of the guys in my unit at Fort Meade, but they had no idea what a high maintenance lady she really was. She had a fiery temper and she could blow up at the least little thing. Sometimes, she'd simply turn into the ice princess and other times she'd go into a rage and start throwing things or storm out of our apartment. So while having a beautiful, oversexed wife was great most of the time, it also presented significant challenges for me since she was like a magnet for attracting guys and constantly getting hit on where ever we went. Of course, she craved the attention and loved to flirt and tease guys, which caused me great worry every time she was out of my sight. She even joked that she was a nymphomaniac, and to be honest, I was pretty sure it was true because she certainly never seemed to get enough.
On this particular night in July, Cookie and I had a huge fight over money, which we had very little of. She had spent our last few dollars for the month on this sexy new dress and spiked heels. She had gotten them for nearly half the normal price, and while I thought it was a great outfit, we didn't even have enough groceries to make it to pay day at the end of the month. Plus, I had run out of gas coming home from work and had no money to even go get the car.
When I chastised her for her untimely splurging on the outfit, she blew up at me and told me not to worry because she was going out and get some money by selling her ass. She had made threats like this before, so I didn't think she was serious until she slipped on a pair of her shortest and tightest cutoff jeans and a low-cut halter and then headed out of our apartment. I still didn't think she would really do it, but I decided to follow her at a distance anyway. She noticed right away that I was following her, which seemed to incite her all the more, and she hurried ahead with her heels clicking until she reached the main highway. Then, she quickly hiked her cut-off shorts up in back to show more of her buttocks, before she proceeded out to the local strip strutting her stuff like a hooker.
I followed at a distance as she walked for nearly a block down the seedy strip past several bars that were frequented by mostly black clientele. She even paused outside of one of the bars, and I think she was about to go inside when this big Lincoln pulled up next to her and stopped. The driver was a heavy-set, middle-aged, black man, and she waved and smiled at him as she moved over to the lowered passenger side window. Then, to my horror, after a brief exchange with the black man, she climbed inside his car and closed the door.
I stood there in stunned disbelief as the Lincoln sped past me. I just couldn't believe she had actually done it.
With little else I could do at this point, I headed back to our apartment to wait for her return. I was hurt and worried, but strangely aroused by the prospect of what she was doing.
I must have dosed off and the rattle of the key in the door awakened me. I sat up with a rush just as Cookie opened the door. My body tensed, ready for another confrontation, but as our eyes met for just a brief instant, I saw that her anger appeared to be gone. She looked sad and maybe a little tired.
As she pushed the door closed, she abruptly turned away from me as if trying to avoid my eyes and said nothing as she slowly slipped her heels off.
I sighed as I watched her every move. I had a hundred questions, but the important thing was she was home. The fight was over and now it was time to make up.
I wanted to say something...anything, but I decided to see if she would make the first move. I glanced at my watch. It was just after midnight. She had been gone for just over two hours.
"Here," she said suddenly as she stepped up and tossed some money on the coffee table. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears.
I swallowed hard as I stared at the scattered bills as if they were something evil. Then, I looked up into glistening eyes. "Cookie, you...you didn't do this..." I said, but I knew she had.
She glared at me, anger seeping back into her eyes. "I told you I was going to do it, and I did!"
We stared into each other's eyes for a long time. I sensed that this was a telling moment. There was still at least some hostility left in her, yet I also sensed her sadness, and perhaps regret. "Cookie, we could have found another way to get some money."
She shook her head. "I did what I had to do," she said glaring at me. "Now at least we should be able to fill the car up with gas and buy enough groceries to get us to pay day."
I was stunned. "But Cookie...," I started but realized from the look on her face that it was futile to argue with her skewed logic. In her mind, she was convinced that she had done what she had to do to get some money and perhaps teach me a lesson, and to argue with her at this point would only lead to another fight.
There was a long silence as I looked over at the money on the table. Finally, I picked up the crisp bills. There were two twenties and a ten. "That guy....he...he gave you this money to...to have sex with him?"
She glared at me for a long moment. Gradually the gleam of anger in her eyes softened. "How else do you think I could have gotten it?" she said shaking her head as if remembering. "You saw me get into the car with him. You don't think he would give me money just to look at me, do you?"
I stared at her in amazement, hoping I'd see some sort of sign that would convince me that she was making all this up just to get back at me, but from the look in her eyes, I knew she had done it.
"I really did it Pete," she said lowering her eyes as if she were reading my thoughts. "I'm not proud of myself, but I did what I had to do...what I had to do for us." She looked back at me as a tear rolled down her cheek.
I sat the money on the table as I stood up. I knew I should be furious, but my heart was suddenly aching. I immediately went to her and pulled her into my arms. "Cookie, it's my fault. I...I know I pushed you too far, and I...I never would have let you go if I would have thought you were really going to...going to..."
She ground her face into my shoulder as she began to sob.
I let her cry for a long time before I guided her over to the bed and lay her down. We held each other for a long time.
As we lay there holding on to each other, I kept retracing the night's events in my head, wondering if there was something I could have done different. I had been so upset about running out of gas on my way home from work, and then to find out she had spent the last of our cash, and it was still a week and a half until payday. Our situation had seemed so hopeless. Now, as I looked at the money lying on the coffee table, I knew that we would be able to make it to the end of the month.
I swallowed hard. The money was dirty, but it was still money. What she did to earn it was undeniably wrong, yet I had to believe she truly thought she had done it for us...so we could survive.
I looked down at her. She was still my beautiful, young wife and not the kind of woman who would sell her body for cash. Yet that's exactly what she had done.
I sighed as I remembered watching her climb into the car with the black guy. I'll never forget the big grin on his face as he drove past where I had been standing.
The fifty dollars sitting on the table almost had come from that black stranger, who paid my wife to have sex with him. I shook my head. He was just some random guy, who happened to be passing by at just the right moment. It could have been anyone, but he was the lucky guy and her paying customer.
I swallowed hard, realizing that I now had more to deal with than just her getting paid to have sex with some guy. The guy she had done it with was black, and the very thought of her doing it with a black guy should have revolted me and caused me to demand a divorce. Yet, that wasn't what I was thinking.
I stared at her lips, wondering if he had kissed her. Suddenly, I realized she was staring up at me.
"You want to know if I kissed him, don't you?" she asked with a half smile on her face.
I shrugged. "I was just curious." It was uncanny how she seemed to be able to read my thoughts.
She sighed. "You sure you want to know? It might be better if we're just happy we have the money and forget all about how I got it."
"I don't want there to be any secrets between us," I said looking into her eyes. "So I...I want you to tell me what happen...what you did with him."
She reached up and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Okay, I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but you've got to promise you won't get angry. This is over and done with, and I can't change what happened."
