It sounded too good to be true. I will admit, at first I was shocked. I had joined Monica at a small cafe for lunch. I had been surprised when she called for we didn't often see each other any more. Three years ago our husbands had been partners in a thriving cosmetic surgery practice and then her husband became enthralled with his latest creation, a tall exotic dancer that had come in for some lypo, added a nose job, then a boob job and then decided she liked the good doctor so well she took him too. After a messy divorce her husband sold his part of the practice to the remaining partners and left with his latest creation. I thought Monica had left town also but here she was. So when she called I couldn't imagine what she wanted to talk about after three years, but lately I had been so bored, she was buying and I had always loved Cafe Roberto.
She picked at the salad she had ordered. I noticed she ate little and finally she leaned closer, "I suppose you are wondering what I wanted to talk to you about after three years." She sniffed delicately, smiling at me, and continued. "Well the last year or so I have taken on a part time job and when my boss asked me if I knew someone that had certain talents," she paused biting her lip, trying to find the right words it seemed.
"And well, I thought of you. I remember, " she closed her eyes shaking her head, "I remember that feeling of being so invisible! My whole being so wrapped up in being the good doctors' wife. Knowing all of the women that parade through his office day after day." She sounded so bitter but I had to pause, hadn't I been feeling the same way recently. Lately when Tom came home raving about this woman or that I found myself doubting, looking at myself in the mirror and wondering how I measured up to these women. The kids didn't need me nearly as much as they used to. I had been restless lately, looking for something to keep me busy but Monica's attitude made me concerned that there was something fishy about this opportunity so I very bluntly asked. "What are you talking about Monica? Is this something illegal? Her model thinness, lack of appetite and sniffles made me suspect she was probably involved in some sort of drug activity.
"Well I suppose it is illegal, but it shouldn't be" she replied. "Adults who enjoy spending time together should not be considered illegal."
"Spending time together," I questioned?
She leaned closer, glancing about to make sure no one was listening, and then continued. "A few years ago a friend approached me about helping him out. It seems he had an extremely rich friend who was going to be in the area and who needed an escort. He was too busy to look for someone that fit his specifications for the short time he was here and so had enlisted the aid of my friend to find someone. I spent the weekend with him and was rewarded well. In fact, I made more that weekend then I had made the whole month at the firm I worked at"
She paused and I asked dumbfoundedly, "Are you a prostitute Monica?"
She laughed, shaking her head, "No, I don't use that word and neither does my friends."
"So what word do you use," I asked? "And what did you want to see me about? I could never do something like that."
"Aren't you even interested?" she smiled, "Don't you wonder if another man besides Tom would find you sexy, desirable. You certainly have kept your figure, still only the two kids right?" She leaned forward and continued more earnestly, "Aren't you looking for something for you, Laura? Those kids of yours must be in school by now all day long. Don't need you as much except for that six dozen cookies for the bake sale or the Halloween costume, or maybe a ride to their friends house. It's not bad life, but does it have the daring and excitement that you expected your life to be filled with?"
But I sputtered, "Why me, what makes you think I would do something like that?"
She sighed, patiently, "Because Laura we are alike, attractive, intelligent women who put our hopes and plans on hold for our husband's dreams and careers only to wake up years later and realize that we had sunk into assuming a role of housekeeper, nanny, and occasional lover. Our dreams are gone and we are left living vicariously through our children and husbands."
And you think the answer is to sleep with other men for money?" I shook my head.
"Or other women," Monica smiled.
Although I was asking all these questions, looking back I now realize I was hooked. The idea intrigued me and I was already thinking of what I would wear, if I ever did it, which of course I never would. Would I? Would any man really want to pay money to be with me?"
Monica slipped a card across the table. It lay there between us, a simple card with a phone number scratched across the back. I hesitated and Monica slipped it closer, "Take it, think it over, and then call the number. I know you Laura, I know how empty that picture perfect life can be. I also know how hot you are deep in your soul Remember the time we shared fantasies, remember what yours was?"
I gazed at the card, not even looking up at her, remembering, my words flooding back, "I think I would love to be a high class call girl, fucking different men, desired by many, using them all and getting paid for it even!"
"Here's your chance," she whispered, standing up, she dropped several hundred dollars on the table, and left.
I watched her, as she left, shaking my head, "I could never do that," but a little voice in my head whispered, "Yes Laura you could."
When I got home that afternoon I tossed the card into my desk drawer and forgot it or at least I tried to. But at the most inopportune times I would think of that card, of that number. A small voice in my head would occasionally chide me, "Throw it away, don't do it." But did it matter if I threw the piece of paper away? The idea, the phone number was already planted and memorized. It was late May and the kids were busy with end of the school year field trips, picnics and parties. Both of them were going off to camp for 4 weeks as soon as school was out so I was also busy getting their things together for that.
Tom came home one evening smiling. "Alex Barr invited us to join him next week on a fishing trip up to Canada. He was so happy with his wife's augmentation that he invited us to go along to his new lodge. I have heard it is just amazing. This trip is going to be so relaxing."
Next week," I asked? "You said yes already? I thought that we were going to spend a few days together, but I suppose what does it matter if we are there or do something different. It's not like we have reservations anywhere or anything."
He had the courtesy at least to blush guiltily as he explained, "Umm, when I said us, I meant the partners at the clinic. The wives aren't invited. I know we talked about me taking the week off but like you said nothing has been planned or anything. Right?" He left the kitchen shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry Hon, do you know where we put those jigs that my Dad gave me?"
I stepped over to the desk and opened the drawer. The card lay there, staring up at me, calling me. I looked up at the calendar above the desk, X's marking off the days when the kids, when my whole family would be gone. When I would have no responsibilities, no kids, no husband. I swallowed hard, my hand wrapping around the card slipping it into my pocket.
I made the call the next week as soon as Tom left. A sleepy, masculine voice answered, "Yeah, this better be important." There was a rattle, a clunk, the phone must have been dropped and in the background I heard a muttered, "Who the fuck is calling me at 9:30 in the frickin morning." Then, "Who is this?"
I hesitated, and then surged ahead breathlessly, "My name is Laura. Monica gave me your number and told me to call. I'm sorry I bothered you." I hung up, standing with my eyes closed, my hands over my face, "What was I thinking?"
I shook my head and then nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone rang. I gazed at it apprehensively and then snatched it up.
"Hey, is this Laura?"
"Yesssss," I replied.