I didn't ask Dan, I already knew what his answer would be. I do know I was shaking as my hand hovered over the keyboard of my computer.
I reread the ad I had written for an online erotic website.
"Attractive lady available for romantic interludes with discriminating gentlemen." it read.
I touched the "send" button, then placed my face in my hands and wept.
My name is Dana. I suppose anyone would say I am fairly attractive. I certainly am no raving beauty but I could always hold my own at parties. My body is slim, 125# and 5'5". My breasts are small but firm, my stomach is as flat as it was when I was 18. A result of my 3 times a week workouts at the gym for the last decade.
I remember the day my husband Dan bought the Corvette. He was so proud of it, he polished it and dabbed at it. He always had the soft cotton cloth in his hands when he was near it, wiping constantly.
I rode with him several times, he wouldn't let me drive it.
"Too much power, easy to lose it." he told me flatly, as he expertly worked the controls.
It did have that, but Dan drove very well, so I wasn't worried.
I remember the knock on the door, I was just setting some fresh pastry into the oven to bake. Dan would be home soon, he loved my homemade pastries. I had switched to some low calorie sugar, realizing Dan was developing a bit of a spare tire around the middle. I was hoping he didn't notice the difference.
I still had the oven mitts on my hands when I opened the door, two policemen stood there and my world crashed around me.
It was almost a full year before they allowed me to bring Dan home. His crushed body sat strapped into the wheelchair, he had the use of just his left hand. He was quite adept at the controls, his arm strapped to the armrest so his fingers could keep the buttons readily available. He could not speak or turn his head. I tended to his body functions, and constantly monitored his body temperature.
But inside, this was my Dan, the man I loved. He used his still working fingers to try to write, laboriously adding the words to the screen he sat in front of. The idea was to sell some of his work to assist with our rapidly fading finances.
It wasn't going well. I read some of Dan's work, it was like he was several different people. Sometimes he wrote as a woman, sometimes as a man. Several different men, several different women. The words came out of him in bits and pieces, portions of real and what had to be fantasy all mixed together oddly.
I came to understand that the world he lived in now was nearly all inside of him. I had begun the process of putting all of the crazy quilt of his writing together in some order that would make sense. There was a book, a story in there, if I could sell it...
The days went on, our lives slowly spiraled downwards.
There was insurance, I remember Dan speaking of it the day we signed the policy.
"No matter what happens, we will be all right." He had told me, giving me a hug.
It was always a small struggle to even make the premiums, several times I had thought it was a waste of money we badly needed.
But now it wasn't enough. I learned that there can never be enough. Most of the medical costs were covered, but what about life and living? "90% of all medical over..." the one clause read. It sounded great, except for the first $10,000 we paid, a deductible to make the policy affordable in the first place. Plus his bills were way over a million dollars.
And growing.
In just two short years, I was behind on the house payments. Our tiny savings account, the one we had added $100 to each month to tide us over in retirement? Long gone. I even sold our new minivan and bought an older Dodge. Government disability was a stipend, it helped but that was all.
I could not work full time, Dan required constant care to maintain his body temperature and take care of his other needs. I could leave for a few hours but that was it.
I tried to hire someone to help, but my secretarial skills had a limit to income potential, a nurse cost more than I could earn.
Plus try to get hired anywhere with an invalid husband, hoping for company insurance? Sure, that will work. Now the bank wanted our house. The nice man who came to speak with me was "really sorry, but..." Then he had looked me up and down with a grin and mentioned that "Something could be worked out."
I knew what he meant.
Finally, it had come down to this. We were falling behind at the rate of $2000 each and every month.
I returned to tending to Dan, nothing to do but wait. I wasn't sure if anyone would even be interested in a 32 year old housewife.
It wasn't long, though. I opened my emails to a dozen responses.
Several were outright rude, just one sounded all right. He introduced himself as Carl, I answered, sending a picture of myself taken on the beach in a conservative bathing suit.
I got an almost instant reply, and after a few surprisingly polite emails, we set a date to meet at a local hotel lounge.
I was scared to death as I dressed in my best black evening gown, off the shoulder on one side and slit up the side to mid-thigh. I had carefully trimmed myself, powdered, makeup and hair to the best of my ability. I had thought of sexy undergarments, then realized there was no need.
I splurged some cash we couldn't afford on a taxi, I didn't want Carl to know what I drove partly because the car was cheap and partly so I couldn't be traced back to my home.
My sexual experiences up until now were limited to a few struggles in the back seat of cars in high school and some short term affairs in College. Then I met Dan, a fine and gentle lover. We fell in love, we were so happy. But Dan was not really the type given to wild sex, we were...well, normal. So I really had no idea at all what to do or what to expect from the man I was going to meet.
"Looking good, lady!" the taxi driver said as he dropped me off at the hotel. I didn't respond. Mustering my courage, I walked into the lounge. Letting my eyes adjust, I looked around for Carl. Not seeing him, I made my way to the bar, ordered a soda.
It was just minutes before I saw him. He was looking around, too. Spotting me, he walked over and asked, "Dana?"
I turned, giving him my best forced smile. He was in his early 50's, tall and well dressed. There was a trace of grey at his temples, the smile on his face gave me some comfort.
"You are much prettier than your picture."
"Thank you." I answered, trying to hide my nervousness.
"Shall we retire to my suite?" he asked.
That was to the point, I downed my soda and got up.
His room was way up high, I looked around as he opened the door, it wasn't cheap. Somehow that helped.
"Music?"
"Sure." I found the sofa, settled as the soft sounds of a female singer filled the air.
He joined me on the sofa, handed me an envelope. I almost made the mistake of asking what it was for, then I knew that it would have the $500 I had asked for. I didn't open it to count it.
I realized he was looking at me expectantly. I am not sure what I thought was going to happen, small talk, a seduction perhaps?
"What would you like?" I asked.
He looked at me oddly.
"Would you undress for me?"
I hesitated. Again he gave me that odd look.
