THE HOOKER'S TALE
The date was set, the church reserved, bride's maids dresses were ordered, and the bride's dress was fitted and ready. The reception dinner menu was set, and the invitations had gone out. The only thing left were the 'I do's and the 'I pronounce you.' My suit was cleaned, pressed, and hanging in my closet, and my nerves were more than a little on edge.
The escorts were rehearsed, the groomsman had been instructed, and the minister had been paid. Everything was ready, but then she said, "We have to talk."
My blood went cold and I actually got dizzy. I waited. "I need to tell you something," my lovely bride told me the morning of the wedding. Without the ability to speak, I simply waited again. "You know I entered college without any scholarships or help from home, right?" I nodded, dumbly. "Well, I needed a way to earn an income."
Again, like a mechanical character at Disneyland, I nodded, without replying. "Well, I found a job that paid well." She stopped and waited for it to sink in, but it didn't. I just stood there gazing at her tortured smile.
"Okay?" I managed. I pictured myself standing before the church, apologizing to people as they left shaking their heads and tossing birdseed to the pigeons that gathered in front of the chapel, glad to get what wasn't going to be thrown at the bride and groom as they left the church. I had a picture in my mind of me standing before the empty church watching people drive away.
"Okay," I finally said, "where was this job?" I didn't think to ask what it was doing, but I lamely asked where it was.
"Hollywood," she said, relieved I hadn't asked what it was doing.
"And?" I said, waiting for the punch line.
"They paid me to be their date," she said so quietly I could barely hear her.
"And?" I repeated, having expected her to tell me she was a hired killer, or a mob boss, or a bank robber.
"And they paid me to do things," she said, amazed I didn't catch on.
"They didn't asked you to kill people?"
"No," she said emphatically. "Of course not. They paid me to be their date."
"Not to kill people, or steal diamonds, or rob banks?" I said, relieved.
"They paid me to have sex," she said bluntly, not able anymore to avoid the truth.
"But not to kill anyone?" I said.
"Of course not."
"That's a relief," I said, letting out a big breath.
"I was a call girl," she said, trying to make me understand.
"But you weren't a murderer," I said. "I was prepared for something bad," I said.
"You don't think being a prostitute is bad?" she asked, incredulous.
"My mom worked the streets after my father left," I said. "I thought you were going to tell me you did something awful," I said. "A hooker is not awful. It's the American way," I said.
"You don't think selling sex is awful?"
"Better than selling dope, or shooting people. No, I think not taking advantage of all your resources is dreadful, at least dumb," I said.
"You don't mind that I turned tricks for money?" she asked innocently.
"Sex is not evil," I said. "Selling sex is just good business sense. Would I mind if you had a second income? Only if you lost it at Vegas," I said, shaking my head. "I didn't tell you about my mom because I wasn't sure you'd approve, but you know I think prostitution should be legal, right? I am not against allowing people to pay you for giving them pleasure."
"But I didn't know if you thought it was a good job for your wife to have had," she said.
"How could I approve of the occupation, but disapprove of the people who had it?" I asked. "I not only have always thought hooking should be legal, it also should be regulated with health requirements and immunizations. Actually I am proud that you had enough courage to go into the industry sex. You go girl," I said taking her into my arms.
"The important question is, do you want to quit just because you hold a marriage license?" I kissed her. "Well, do you?" She pulled back and looked at me.
"I... well, I really didn't think of continuing, but it would help us get started," she said timidly. "So, you wouldn't mind if I continued to work?"
"Would I mind having more income to get a nicer place? No," I said, "I wouldn't mind. Would I mind for my wife to be a part of what I think is a legitimate profession? No," I said. "I am relieved it wasn't something bad you had to tell me," I said. "Like a paid assassin or a used car salesman."
"I love you," she said. "You want to get married?"
"Only to you," I said, pulling her to me and kissing her.
The wedding went off without a hitch. The escorts escorted, the groomsmen stood marvelously and looked handsome, the bridesmaids looked lovely--even in their silly dresses--, and the food was happily eaten at the wedding reception dinner. I danced with my bride and she danced with her father. Also, the honeymoon was a lustful, exhausting success. My mother had passed away long before, but I thought about how much she would liked Claire and the wedding.
After our last sexual romp she rolled up on her side and looked at me with that seductive look she gets and said, "So, shall we advertise, or just join a service and let them handle the mechanics?"
"A service knows what they're doing," I said. "I think we should leave the business to the business people." She nodded. "It'd give us more time to enjoy your time off," I said, putting my hands on her naked bottom, pulling her against me.
We finished our honeymoon the next morning at the hotel breakfast buffet. After a full night of lovemaking, we each had a full plate. I had hash browns, Eggs Benedict, and a waffle, with fruit on the side. Claire had over-easy eggs, sausage, and pancakes, with orange juice.
After breakfast we went to the pool and stretched out in the Palm Springs sun. "The service will probably want me to work out of a hotel," she said.
"It should be a nice hotel," I said.