When we were finally clear of the traffic congestion at Las Vegas' McLaren Airport and Tropicana Blvd., I turned on I-15 and headed west toward Los Angeles. A few miles later I turned on highway 160. As soon as we turned off the Interstate Lynn, exhausted from the trip and the nearly sleepless previous 24 hours, curled up in the passenger seat of the compact rental car and quickly fell asleep.
After driving on the two lane highway for several minutes the headlights illuminated a green milage sign that confirmed we were on the right road, heading in the right direction. It was 42 more miles to Pahrump.
I was alone with my thoughts.
_______
To say that the past year had been financially challenging for us would be a gross understatement. I hadn't been making enough sales for my commission to cover car payments, other payments and the mortgage. We were unsuccessful in juggling our monthly obligations. It finally caught up with us last week when we received a certified letter from the mortgage company informing us that they were foreclosing on our house in thirty days if we didn't bring the payments current. We had three weeks to come up with $7,000.
Neither Lynn's family or mine could help. It seemed that there was only one person in whom I could confide. Earl, was the first person to welcome us to the neighborhood when we moved into the tract home on our cul de sac six years ago. I thought of him as a much older brother, someone who would never condemn me for my stupid mistakes. He had retired early and was much older than us. But his retirement wasn't what he thought it would be because Mary, his wife, died unexpectedly two years ago. His only vice seemed to be to fly to Las Vegas several times a year.
After dinner last night, I walked over to Earl's. When I finished my long story, he didn't say anything. He just walked to the refrigerator, came back with two cold Buds, handed one to me and flopped down in his big club chair. I could tell that the severity of our situation had caught him by surprise.
"Shit Ted, I wish I had the money," he said, almost apologetically. "Truth is, everything that we had saved, which wasn't very much, went to take care of Mary. And, I piss away a lot of my pension on my Vegas trips." He seemed lost in thought for a minute. "I know how much you kids love that house, hate to see you lose it."
"Hey, I wasn't asking you for a loan Earl, just your advice. But you're right, we do love the house, this neighborhood and the kid's school. I think I'd do just about anything, that's legal, to keep it."
He took another swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "There just may be a way out of your problem. Hell, seven grand's a lot of money and three weeks isn't much time to raise it. Let's face it Ted, obviously, as you've learned, you're not going to be able to borrow that kind of money. You're going to have to earn it."
"Shit Earl! There's no way in hell I can make that kind of money in three weeks. My boss told me I received my last advance two months ago and warned me to never ask for another."
"I know you can't earn that much in just three weeks." He emphasized the word you. Then he continued his thought. "But Lynn can."
Lynn had never earned half that amount before in three months, let alone three weeks. However, before I could say a word he went on to explain. "You know I fly to Vegas as often as I can. You also know I love to gamble but that's only one of the reasons I go there now. Hell, I'm not dead yet and I still have urges, you know sexual needs. I'm not interested in dating and getting emotionally involved with some old gal here." He paused, took another swig, then continued. "So, guess what? I found another, less complicated, way to satisfy my needs."
He had my attention. Sex was the subject of many of our conversations, especially after two or three beers. "Go on," I encouraged him, "tell me what you do."
"The first trip I took to Vegas a few months after Mary died opened my eyes to something I hadn't known before. There isn't a classy way to say this my friend, so just bear with me. Well, I was real horny and the second night I was there I asked a cabby where I could go to get laid. Let me tell you, I learned a lot in a few minutes. This guy explained that prostitution was illegal in Clark County, that's where Vegas is, but not in a neighboring County. He went on to tell me that there are several safe, licensed whorehouses out there in the desert. I guess he must have felt sorry for me because he admitted the best way to get there would be for me to rent a car. He was nice enough to give me directions."
"What did you do?"
"I took his advise. The next day I did rent a car and drove to Pahrump, that's the name of town where a couple of the houses are located. When I drove back to Vegas I felt like I was sixteen years old again. Now, every trip to Vegas includes at least two trips to Paradise Ranch."
I didn't have a clue how his admission related to our problem. He paused to gauge my reaction to what he had revealed before he continued. "Let me tell you Ted, the gals at Paradise Ranch are very attractive, some of them are even really beautiful, but I've never seen anyone there that's nearly as beautiful and sexy as Lynn."
I started to get pissed. I thought old Earl was saying he wanted to fuck my wife but that wasn't what was on his mind which he quickly explained. "Now don't take offense, but I know that Lynn could easily make seven grand if she worked out there for three weeks and it's all perfectly legal. If you want, I can give you the number and you can call yourself and see if they're hiring. I know this sounds extreme but there's no easy solution to your problem."
"Earl, I know you're trying to be helpful but that's just not possible. You know Lynn. Kids, their school, church, miss prim and proper. Not a chance."
He looked at me seriously. "Ted, do you remember when we got drunk last month and we started telling each other some of our crazy fantasies? You seemed very serious when you told me that you wish Lynn was less inhibited, that you liked it when guys flirted with her and that your favorite fantasy was to actually see her get fucked. Was that the truth?"
"Why'd you bring that up? That's not fair, I had too much to drink . . . but I confess it was the truth."
"Does Lynn know about your dirty fantasies?"
"Oh, does she ever. I've been after her for years to do something. Except for when we're . . . you know, when we're making love . . . she just laughs it off and calls me a pervert."
"The way I see it, you can talk with Lynn about my idea. If she loves the house half as much as you say she does, well wouldn't this be a way to save it and fulfill your fantasy at the same time? Before I could answer he asked, "You want the number to Paradise Ranch?"
"No. Thanks anyway but I'll have to figure some other way out of this mess."
"Suit yourself. But if I were in your shoes I'd give it some serious thought. Just let me know if you change your mind."
As I walked home I thought about what Earl had proposed. I knew there was zero chance that Lynn would go along with it, though I found myself getting aroused just thinking about her at the Ranch.. By the time I got home Lynn had put the kids to bed and was cleaning the kitchen.
"Hi honey," she said cheerfully, though I knew she had no reason to be cheerful. "What did Earl have to say?"
"Oh, we just talked about the foreclosure."
"Did he have any bright ideas?"
"I don't know how bright his ideas are but I sure learned a lot about our neighbor that I didn't know before."
"What did you learn?" She asked with genuine interest.
"That old coot goes to a whorehouse every time he goes to Las Vegas."
"Earl? You've got to be kidding! I thought guys his age lost their interest in sex."
"Apparently not. It's true he really goes to this whorehouse out in the Nevada desert at least a couple of times every trip. He said the girls there are very pretty." I don't know why, I hadn't intended to say anymore but for some reason I said, "but Earl said none of them are nearly as pretty and sexy as you."
"He said that? I wonder what he meant?"
"I can tell you exactly what he meant. He suggested that you spend the next three weeks working out there to cover the mortgage payments."
"What! That old letch. I can't believe he said that. He must be getting senile or something. Besides, I seriously doubt that a woman could make that much money working out there for just three weeks."
"No, I think he was very serious. He really believes that's the best way, maybe the only way, to save the house. He didn't have any doubt about you making that much in three weeks."
Neither of us said anything as we prepared for bed and sleep. But little sleep came to us that long night. While holding each other we reviewed, for what seemed like the hundredth time, our alternatives. Then, we wasted a lot of time playing the stupid ‘what if' games that people play. If only we hadn't bought this, gone there, done that we could have made our mortgage payments. Finally, we each acknowledged that we weren't going to win the lottery, undo our past mistakes or borrow our way out of this mess. The only question was: how much did we want to keep the house?
It must have been three in the morning when Lynn said, "I guess Earl's suggestion, that seemed really stupid when you first told me about it, doesn't seem so stupid now, does it? I mean, doing something like that here in Portland couldn't possibly work. Someone would see me or, with our current luck, I would get arrested or catch some terrible disease or worse. Also, I wouldn't have any idea how to go about it. I guess because it's legal in Nevada, then maybe we should consider it. What do you think honey?"
