I stared at the note that had come in the day's mail and wondered just who in the world could hate me enough to send it to me:
"Hal - Just wanted you to know that your wife is the best piece of pussy I've ever had and she is damned well worth more than the hundred dollars I paid for the privilege."
The note was unsigned and was the product of a word processing program. The envelope had a local postmark and was addressed to me at my office instead of to my home address. As I wadded up the note and tossed it into the wastebasket next to my desk I wondered if it was someone trying to cause problems between me and my wife or just trying to tell me something and if so, what?
I thought about that note off and on for the rest of the afternoon and again on my drive home from work that night. The premise of the note was that my wife was selling her body and that was just plain ridiculous. In the first place she didn't need the money. She had a trust fund from her grandfather that gave her sixty thousand a year. On top of that I made extremely good money at my profession and if that wasn't enough Celeste worked as an executive secretary. She didn't need the money she got from her job, but she did need the work - it got her out of the house and kept her from going crazy.
When the kids had fled the nest leaving Cee with nothing to do but worry about them being out in the cruel world she began looking around for something to occupy her time. She tried volunteering for charitable committees, but soon found that she couldn't put up with the internal politics, back tabbing and backbiting. It seemed that most of the women on those committees were there for the status and the occasional mention on the society pages of the local newspapers. In the end Cee decided to just get a job and go to work. She started as a file clerk and in two years she was the bosses secretary. No, whatever the note was about, it wasn't money.
Looking across the dinner table at Cee I could understand why a man would pay money for the chance at bedding her. Even at forty-four she had the classic beauty and voluptuousness of a Sophia Loren. Her smile was sensuous and her voice was low and throaty and the woman had never failed to stir my blood. Even after over twenty years of marriage we still fucked like sex crazed teenagers. We made love so much that if Cee hadn't had her tubes tied following complications that arose during the delivery of our third child we would probably have had twenty kids. That thought raised another possibility. If the note wasn't about money, could it be that some one was trying to start something that would drive me and Cee apart and maybe give him an open field to take a shot at her? If that was the case he was shit out of luck. I could conceive of nothing, absolutely nothing, that could ever cause me to part from the woman that I loved and adored.
Cee interrupted my thoughts, "What are you thinking Hal? You don't seem like you're here."
"Nothing Cee. Something came up at work today and I'm trying to decide how to handle it."
"Honestly Hal, can't you leave your office stuff at the office when you come home?"
"Actually my love, something has come up here, but I already know how to handle it."
"You are just so romantic. Here? On the table? Or can you hold your lust in check long enough for us to get to the bedroom?"
"The bedroom if we are quick about it, otherwise, clear the table."
In the end I chalked the note up as the work of someone who had it in for me, didn't like me or who was trying to get back at me for something I'd done and who was trying to pull my chain.
The second note arrived the following Friday:
"Hal - I've been watching you and it is clear that you think the first note is the work of some crank. I could tell you that your wife gives state of the art blow jobs, but then you already know that. You also know how much she loves a cock in her asshole, but there are some things that I'll bet you don't know. Did you know that she goes wild when you eat her pussy after some one else has cum in it? She had three customers last Thursday and she went crazy when I sucked the juices of all three out of her. That's the other thing that you don't know about her - she loves multiple partners! The three customers on Thursday? She took them on at the same time - all three holes at once. I know you still won't believe me so here's what you do. Call 555-3232 and tell Louie that you want to make an appointment to see Beatrice. Tell him your name is Steve Anton and that Charles Mobley recommended you to him. I think you can figure out where to go from there."
My first inclination was to wad up the note and toss it into the waste basket, but then I got to thinking about the tone of the note. The writer seemed certain about his facts and he had furnished a phone number. In effect, what he was saying was "if you don't believe me, see for yourself." It was still preposterous to think that Cee was doing what the note said, but why the phone number? It was obvious that the writer of the note wanted me to learn something and curiosity began to take hold. I spent the better part of the day thinking about it and around three in the afternoon I picked up the phone and called the number.
The man who answered sounded black and I asked for Louie.
"Speaking."
I gave him the phony name and said, "Charles Mobley gave me your number. I'd like to make an appointment to see Beatrice."
"You know that she only sees customers on Thursdays?"
"Yes, that is my understanding."
"Well then, we need to get together and take care of the formalities. Charles did tell you that this is a cash only business?"
"Yes, he made that clear."
"Just so we understand each other going in Beatrice is only available from noon till six on Thursday. If you want her for the entire period the cost is $750. If you are only interested in ala Carte head is $100, anal is $200 and straight is $150. You will need to meet with me before hand to handle the transaction."
I arranged to meet him at a bar downtown after work. Louie was a short, balding black man and he cut right to the chase, "And just what is it that you would like from our Beatrice?"
I'd given the matter some thought and I did not want to waste $750 just to find out what the note was all about and who would pay $100 for a blow job and then wait two days to get it? Anal sex was the best bet to make Louie think I was a legitimate customer.
"What I'm looking for is something that my wife won't give me. I want to try anal sex and Charles tells me that Beatrice not only does it, but likes it."
"That's it? All you want is anal sex?"
"Yes, that is what I would like"
"Well, not knowing if you were on the level and would even show up I have already booked Beatrice up from noon until four. Will four o'clock work for you?"
"Yes. I can make it at four."
"Good. That will be $200 and you will have her from four until five."
I handed him the money and he said, "The Algonquin Motel, room 116. Knock twice, wait three seconds and then knock twice again. Enjoy" and he got up and left.
The next two days were weird ones for me. Obviously I was intended to find out something at four on Thursday, but I could not for the life of me figure out what it would be. I thought of a hundred different possibilities and scenarios between the time I gave Louie the $200 and the time I knocked on the door of room 116. The door opened and the one possibility that I had never even remotely considered stared me right in the face.
"Mr. Anton, you are right on time. Please come in."
Numbly I followed Celeste into the room. She closed the door behind me and said, "Louie tells me that your wife denies you anal sex. I'm sure that I can help you out there."
"What in God's name is this all about Celeste?"
"The name is Beatrice Mr. Anton and what this is supposed to be about is anal sex."
"Damn it Celeste, I want some answers."
"You paid for anal sex, an hours worth I believe, and answers to your questions will take longer than that so perhaps we can save that for some other time. Now, do you want anal sex or not? I must warn you that Louie does not give refunds."
"All right Celeste, play your little game, but you will play it without me" and I turned and stormed out of the room. I don't know how long I sat in my car and stared at the door to room 116, but it must have been about an hour. An hour - my allotted time! At five a tall well-dressed black man approached the door and knocked twice and then twice again and the door opened and he went inside and the door closed. It could only mean one thing - my wife was fucking for money - my wife was a whore!
I couldn't make up my mind whether to go to a bar or go home. The idea of finding a bar and getting falling down drunk was appealing, but that would only put off the inevitable. Celeste was "booked" until six and then she would go home, or at least I assumed she would. She was always home on Thursday when I got home from work and even though I now knew about her second job I didn't expect her to change her schedule. The reason I didn't expect a change was because I finally figured out who it was who had been sending me notes. I was pretty sure that it was Celeste. For some reason she wanted me to find out what she was doing. Why she would do that I couldn't fathom any more that I could understand why she was doing what she was in the first place.
I was on the couch watching MSNBC and nursing my fourth drink when I heard Celeste come into the house. It was several minutes before she came in the room and sat down across from me. I glanced at her and then back to the TV. After maybe two minutes of silence Celeste said, "You don't want answers anymore?"