Helen surprised me when she suggested we stop at a strip club. But she was the boss, so I quickly agreed. It was a pretty classy place for a strip joint, or at least it seemed that way to me. My somewhat sheltered life afforded me little knowledge of places deemed offensive by the general public. I noticed that Helen seemed completely at ease. For some reason, that surprised me.
"Jim, don't look so shocked," she laughed. "I do run an escort service, after all. This is a great place to meet potential clients, as well as potential employees. I hope this doesn't embarrass you too much. It never occurred to me that you might be uncomfortable here."
"Is my face that red?" I asked as I looked around at the partially clad women. "I don't come to places like this very much. The truth is, Helen, this is my first time inside a strip club. Now I wish I had stopped at these places more often!"
As I spoke, a very attractive redhead approached us. She was obviously the hostess, and she showed us to a surprisingly nice table. I had some difficulty looking her in the eyes as she only wore what appeared to be some sort of thong. Her breasts jiggled wonderfully as she walked, although I was careful to avoid looking directly at them. I didn't want to embarrass her or Helen. The redhead told us our server would be there soon and left.
"I'm thankful you don't have x-ray vision, Jim," remarked Helen. "That poor girl's nipples would have been in flames."
Once again I felt my face heat up. Apparently my cool demeanor wasn't quite as cool as I had hoped! I decided to ignore Helen's comment and change the subject.
"What would you like to drink, Helen? I suavely asked. "The girl will be here to take our orders soon."
"I'll have a Manhattan, Jim," responded Helen. "I asked you to escort me here tonight so I could spend a little time with my new best male escort. Without exception, each of the five ladies you were assigned to escort, has given me rave reviews about you. I wanted to see it for myself, and I am."
"You have a wonderful combination of worldliness, mixed with boyish charm," she continued. "You are polite, but sincere. You have a wonderful sense of humor and are extremely attractive. Add the fact that you make it known before the assignment that you absolutely will not have sex with the ladies you escort, and you become the perfect male companion. Well, that isn't completely accurate. Two of the ladies did complain a little that you wouldn't accept their offer to spend the night, even though they had been told from the beginning that you would not."
"Helen, I wasn't rude to those women. I was just firm."
"Yes, but it wasn't the sort of "firm" the ladies desired," chuckled Helen. "You were so charming that they changed their minds about having an escort that would not bed them. I don't think they ever expected you to be able to resist them if when they decided to allow you the opportunity to screw their brains out. I guess my curiosity has gotten the best of me, Jim. Why are you so insistent to not sleep with any clients? You could make a lot more in tips."
"Helen, when I took this job, I told you that it was temporary, would have to fit my schedule, and that I would not have sex with any clients," I reminded her. "The reasons didn't seem to matter too much to you at the time. Are you unhappy with our agreement?" I asked.
"Calm down, Jim. I wasn't complaining and you really don't have to answer my question. I was just curious. You're very good at showing ladies a great time, socially. Most men try to take it farther, given the slightest opportunity. You aren't gay, are you?" Helen blurted, and then quickly added, "Not that there's anything wrong with that!"
"Helen!" I laughed. "No, I'm very much hetero. I'll tell you the truth, but I want you to promise to keep it to yourself."
"Great! I can hardly wait, but I'll have to do just that. Our girl is finally coming to get our drink order. I hate to think how you'll react to this one after seeing what the redhead did to you. This girl is even prettier. And her tits are incredible!" added Helen.
I forced myself to not turn to look over my shoulder as the girl approached. I had acted like a schoolboy with the redhead and I was determined to play this encounter a bit less embarrassingly. The first thing, or things, that came into my peripheral view were two firm tits. They weren't overly large, but they were everything a man could want. Then the woman attached to the breasts asked what we wanted to drink.
I jumped to my feet and swung around to face the woman. I felt my face become extremely hot and I had difficulty breathing.
"Della?" was all I could manage as I gulped to send oxygen to my burning lungs.
"Jim!" she gasped as she brought her hands up to shield her breasts.
After what seemed like hours, but could only have been seconds, I found my voice again.
"It seems odd that you're comfortable showing everyone else your tits, but you try to cover them up from me! This is how you've been spending those nights you told me you were working late? You lied to me? You're some kind of slut now? Life with me was getting too dull?" I demanded.
"Jim! It isn't what it looks like. I swear it!" cried Della.
"Well, it looks like you're standing in a room with about fifty to a hundred people with your tits exposed, and that you're getting money to do it?" I shot back. "Which part of that assessment is wrong? Are you doing it for free, maybe for the pleasure of letting men see your tits, and who knows what else?"
"No, Jim, it's totally for the money. You're the only man I ever cared about," responded Della as she turned her face toward Helen. "Maybe you have a good reason for being in a strip club with a beautiful blonde woman when you should be home with the kids? Is this part of the job description for your night work at the community college?"
"Damn it, Della. I can explain everything I've been doing. Don't try to switch the blame here, and put me on the defensive. I still have my clothes on!" I snarled as I grabbed Della's arm and pulled her with me as I took a step toward the door.
"Buddy, you've just bought a ticket out the door, the hard way!" grinned a huge brute of a man that suddenly appeared in my face.
I was so angry I just pushed him out of my path. At least, that's what I attempted. It was like pushing a tree. Nothing happened, at first. Then lights exploded in my head. Sounds suddenly seemed very far away.
I opened my eyes, or more precisely, one eye, to find I was looking farther up at the guy than I had been just a few seconds previously. He wasn't easy to see with just one of my eyes working, and part of the table obstructing my limited view.
"Ben! Get the hell out of my sight!" yelled Helen at the bruiser as she knelt beside me. "That was uncalled for!"
"I was just doing my job, Mrs. Magi, but I'll leave if you insist. Come on, Della. This jerk has you all upset," replied the thug with surprising gentleness as he led my nearly naked wife away.
"Jim, please believe me when I say I had no idea that your wife worked here. I would never deliberately create a situation like this," sobbed Helen lightly as she tried to help me to my feet.
Then a gray haired man took my other arm and helped Helen raise my ass off the floor. He was dressed well and had the attitude of a man used to being in charge.
"What the hell happened? Was this jerk bothering one of the girls? Why are you helping the prick, Helen?" demanded the fellow as he sat me back down in my recently vacated chair.
"He isn't a prick, as you so elegantly put it, Frank! He's the new guy I've been telling you about. Apparently he's married to the girl called Della. He didn't know she was working here and he reacted like most husbands would when they find something like this out," filled in Helen quickly. "Unfortunately, Ben was reacting like most bouncers would and decked Jim when he tried to push him out of the way so he could take Della out of here."
"Wow!" sighed the guy called Frank. "Della's married? Some of the regulars won't like that."
"Damn it, Frank! It doesn't matter what those perverts like! Jim's hurt and he's sure going to have a big shiner tomorrow. We need to help him."
"Those "perverts", as you call them, are my business, Helen. You don't complain about them when you look at our bank accounts," groused the gray-haired man. "This guy'll live."
"Jim, this is Frank Magi," said Helen as she threw a withering glance at him. "He's the owner of this establishment, and my husband."
My head was throbbing and my stomach was rebelling. I felt sick. I felt like dying. Della had played me for the fool. At that very moment, she was running around naked someplace with a gorilla the size of an oak tree. I lurched to my feet and headed for the door, even as Helen pleaded with me to sit and rest.
I don't know how I got back home to Vero Beach from the club in West Palm. Driving on Interstate 95 the weekend before Christmas is dangerous enough without adding partial blindness and a broken heart to the mix. Della's car was already in the garage when I pulled in. I walked slowly into the kitchen to find her sobbing at the kitchen table.
I ignored her as I dug some ice from the freezer, placed it in a towel and held the towel against my face. Then I went to our screened-in room by the pool and flopped down in a chair.
If the ice helped, I hate to think how I would have looked if I hadn't used it. After a sleepless night, I left early the next morning and drove to my sister's house in Sebastian. She was sitting in the kitchen, when I lightly knocked on her back door.
"It's good to see you're enjoying the holidays, Jim," she sarcastically offered as I sat in a chair across from her steaming coffee mug. "Was it a bus or a cement truck? Since you're here and not home, I suspect there's a real interesting story to go with the black eye."
"I caught my loving wife working topless in a strip joint last night," I groaned.
"She sure has the figure for it, Jim. Every time I see her in a swimsuit, I feel like committing suicide, and she's five years older than I am. I feel like an old cow next to her," admitted my sister, Sue. "Did you get smacked in the eye with an unfettered tit?"
"I got mad and yelled at her and tried to take her home when some huge bouncer hit me. It was a sucker punch!" I added.
"Were you following Della, or have you started frequenting the seedier pleasures of South Florida?" asked Sue. "Did you just bump into her as you were admiring the seasonal decorations?"
"Now you sound like Della!" I answered angrily. "She tried to turn everything around and ask about the blonde with me while she was standing topless in a public place!"
"No shit! That bitch has some nerve, Jim. It seems like after almost twenty years of marriage, she'd allow you a little strange now and then. I still can't get over her working topless after having two kids and pushing forty! How does she do it?" marveled my sister"
"Are you being deliberately obtuse?" I demanded angrily. "This isn't about how Della looks good enough to be topless in public! It's about lies, deceptions, and betrayal. We have a seventeen-year old daughter and a fourteen year-old son! What kind of role model is she?"
"So you're worried that she'll have Sarah working topless when she turns eighteen? She sure has her mother's figure and would do great!" exclaimed my sister stupidly.
"Damn it! Why are you acting so freaking dumb?" I nearly yelled.
"Maybe because you're treating me like a fucking idiot, Jim!" Sue snarled back. "I know damn well that you're not telling me half the story! Why in hell were you in a strip club, and with a blonde? Let's solve that riddle first."
I realized it might look bad to Sue without all the information. I had done nothing wrong and needed to explain my situation better.
"I have been working a few evenings as a male escort the past few weeks. I never had sex with the women. I was foolishly thinking I would earn enough money to get Della the rest of her grandmother's antique furniture. All we could afford at the estate sale was one end table and it broke my heart to watch Della as some bastard bought the rest of the pieces. I wanted to get enough money together to buy them all for Della for Christmas. I heard some guys at work talking about a woman that paid big bucks to men in her escort service, so I tried it. I was doing okay, too," I bragged.
"This is incredible, Jim! Della told me that her grandmother's collection sold for thousands. Do you expect me to believe that my big brother, hunk though he may be, has earned the kind of money needed to buy that stuff by being a male escort?" asked my skeptical sister. "I'm sorry, but that dog won't hunt."
"No, Sue, I didn't. I raised most of the money by selling that old car I kept in the barn at Mom's place. I did get enough with everything added together. I have an offer in, and accepted, at the antique shop that bought the stuff at the auction. All I have to do is get a few guys to help deliver it, but I'll probably put it all on Ebay or something, now," I added.
"That old car, as you called it, is your pride and joy, Jim! Dad gave you that Road Runner before he died. You promised him you were going to fix up the body and get a Hemi for it! You sold it to buy Della her grandmother's furniture?" asked a stunned Sue.
"Sue, let's face it. It took me seven years to get the body fixed up. Every time I'd check prices on an engine, they were higher. I was losing ground. The price was going up faster than I could save the money to buy it. It was never going to happen. I decided to run a few ads. A guy paid me my price, in cash! He's going to pick it up next week."
"Give him his money back, then! You know you don't want to sell that car, Jim. It was your and Dad's dream to get it running and take it to shows. You spent so much time on the bodywork that it looks cherry, for God's sake!" exclaimed Sue.
" Looks won't run a car, Sue. I'd just have to sell it in the divorce anyway. Maybe I'll be able to hide the cash and Della won't get it away from me," I allowed.
"You jackass! You won't hide anything from Della. You love her, Jim. Even if you did get divorced, you'd let her take everything, just so she and the kids wouldn't suffer," asserted Sue.
The conversation died out after that comment. Here I sat at my sister's kitchen table a few days before Christmas, feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Sue did finally agree to let me use her guest room until I could find a more permanent place to stay. It irked the hell out of me that Sue didn't seem to understand how much I had been wronged. I was the fucking victim in this mess! Della knew me well enough to know that I would be at Sue's house if I weren't at home, but the phone never rang.
It was the next day that Helen called me. She apologized again for the situation at her husband's club. Then she asked me the question; why would a man with a wife like Della even think about working as a male escort? Once again, I felt compelled to explain myself, thus showing why I wasn't the bad guy in our marriage. Helen listened politely, suggested I was a dumb-ass, and then hung up.
It was only a couple hours later that Helen called me again.
"Why are you bothering this dumb-ass?" I demanded.
"Because you haven't picked up your last pay check, dumb-ass," she replied. "You're going to need the money for rent and child support... things like that. Meet me at the Tiki Hut in Ft. Pierce. We'll have an early dinner and I'll catch up on the money I owe you."
I didn't want to have anything more to do with the wife of the prick that somehow convinced Della to work in a topless joint, but I realized I really would need the money, so I agreed, reluctantly.
Helen met me in the parking lot and we went into the restaurant together. She moved past the hostess and led me to a table by the water. That was when I saw Della and Frank already seated! I stopped but Helen had anticipated my mood and held my hand tightly. She literally dragged me the rest of the way to the table.
"Jim, sit down! We are going to have an adult discussion right now!" insisted Helen.
"I guess a woman running an escort service and a man running a strip club would know all about adult entertainment, including discussions!" I retorted snidely. "Hello, Della. I almost didn't recognize you here in a public place with your tits covered up!"
I was on a roll and wanted to keep it going. I was preparing a barb for Frank when I noticed Della was staring at me and tears were running down her cheeks. It took all the wind from my sails.
"Have you seen a doctor, Jim?" asked Della. "You could have more damage to your eye than you realize."
I had almost forgotten about my left eye. It was now a bright yellow with some purple concentric lines around the outside. It was still swollen shut.
"Your boyfriend did a good job, didn't he? I don't care if I ever see again. I've nothing to look forward to, anyway," I responded, hoping my self-pity would be impressive.
"You'll be fine in a week or two, Jim," laughed Frank, thereby ruining my effort at pity. "You're a real dumb-ass, but we're here to work this thing out anyway."
"Thanks, but I didn't come here to be insulted!" I heatedly responded as I slid my chair back so I could stand.
"Oh? Where do you usually go to get insulted?" asked Frank with a real guffaw. "I always wanted to use that line. Now I suggest you sit back down, or Ben might have to persuade you to do so. You know how persuasive he can be."
I looked to my left and saw that damn gorilla sitting at the next table, grinning from ear to ear. I pulled my chair back in and sat at the table.
"Helen, explain to Della who you are and what you do, please," requested Frank suddenly.
"Della, I'm Frank's wife. I have been for the past twenty-five years. I run an escort service. I supply men and women to people that are willing to pay for an escort for an evening, or longer. I do not promote prostitution. If my people choose to devote their personal time to recreating with clients, that is totally their decision and I do not require, or even suggest it. I actually run the business as it is supposed to be run.. Legally," Helen assured Della.
"A few weeks ago, Jim applied for a part time job and I hired him. He was very well received by my lady clients in that were in their forties and fifties. He made only one demand when he was hired. That was that my clients be informed ahead of time that he would not be having sex with them. That stipulation was exactly what my lady clients were looking for, with the exception of a couple that wanted to go further with the relationship after they spend some time with Jim. He refused both times. I think he should explain why he wanted the job, himself."
I could see how this party was going to go, so I decided to cut to the chase and get it all over with.
"I was trying to make some extra money so I could but the rest of your grandmother's furniture for you for Christmas, Della. I knew you really wanted it and I thought it would make you love me more," I blurted.
"Oh, no!" was all Della said as tears slid down her cheeks.
"My turn," interjected Frank. "A few weeks ago Della came to me asking for a job. She said she would not dance and would not participate in any activities other than what the job description of a waitress. She told me she knew she was older than most of my girls but had seen my ad numerous times and thought I might be desperate. I had to laugh. My clientele is made up mostly of mature men. These guys love the way the hot young twenty-somethings look, but they often feel guilty about it. It sounds strange, but a lot of my customers actually prefer women a bit older, especially women as beautiful as Della. My belief is that it's that the men don't think of the somewhat older women as possible friends of their daughters. Looking at a girl his daughter's age can consume a man with guilt."
"Della was a soon favorite and made a lot of tips along with putting smiles on the men's faces. She did all this, not by dancing, or meeting the men after work, but by smiling, doing her job, and of course looking like every man's wet dream. I never had a part time employee, or even a full timer, make the tips Della did, and all the time maintaining her dignity. They may seem impossible to many people not in the business, but take it from me. It can be done, and Della did it."
"Della," interrupted Helen, "why did you get the job at a strip club?"
"I wanted to get Jim something really special for Christmas," sobbed Della. "He never gets anything for himself. It's always for the kids or me. He has been a wonderful father and husband, at least until he started working as a male escort. I wanted to give him that Hemi engine he needs for that wonderful old car his father gave to him. He has the body repaired and painted so it looks like new. I found an ad for the engine he wanted and it even had four or five barrels, which is supposed to be really good."
"So, Della, you made enough money working for Frank to buy that engine for Jim?" asked Helen gently.
"Not exactly," responded Della slowly as she nervously played with her glass. "The money was way better than I would ever get at a "normal' part time job, though."
"Della, why as a topless waitress? We have kids and you're a mother! What kind of message does that send? What about me? Prancing around almost naked in public is not something I would ever allow my wife to do. That's why you never consulted me about that job. You knew I would be furious, so you lied to me!" I growled.
"You worked as a male escort and you complain about me?" questioned Della. "That's way worse than me letting a few men see my tits! They're just body parts. You were giving strange women something you almost never give to me. You gave them attention and consideration. You took them places and danced and dined with them. I just let men look at me. I didn't make any emotional connections!"
"That's not the way Frank talks!" I shot back. "He seems to think a lot of patrons thought you were pretty special. I'm the only one that's supposed to see your breasts, damn it!"
"You have never been denied the opportunity to see them, or even more, Jim. I, on the other hand, have been denied the pleasure of gambling cruises, dinner shows, and concerts with you! You gave that to other women and cheated me!" she spat.
How did she know so much about my "dates" with my lady clients? It seemed that Helen had told a few stories out of school. They were all against me.
"Jim, your wife has some great tits and you should be proud of her," interjected Frank. "The guys love how hard her nipples get and..."
"Frank! Shut the hell up!" snarled Helen. "That may seem like a nice thing to say to a crude moron like you, but it sure isn't making Jim feel better!"
"Jim," continued Helen. "I worked in Frank's club for almost ten years after we were married, except when I was very pregnant with our daughter. He doesn't think like you do. He sees it as business and not as a personal thing. Men looking at my breasts never upset him, but I was always faithful to him and he knew that. What others thought never mattered to us. I'm sure Della came all the way down to West Palm so she wouldn't run into anyone that knew her. I think you went to West Palm for the same reason."
"Della, showing your breasts is worse than me working as an escort to earn enough extra money to buy you a nice gift. I never even came close to having sex with any of the women!" I added indignantly.
"Have you been listening, Jim?" asked Helen. "Maybe to a man, having a wife show her body to other men is as bad as it gets, except for actual cheating. To a woman, having a husband charm and court other women, escort them to nice places and have pleasant evenings with them is the ultimate infidelity. It can even hurt more than an actual affair. You were allowing others something that you had promised only to your wife... your intimate companionship. Not sex, but something even better to many women, charming, considerate sharing of wonderful evenings."
I was beginning to realize that I might have been a bit pompous in my attitude. Women really thought that much of a little companionship? I was the bad guy? I didn't think so, but I decided that I had to shoulder some of the blame to keep our marriage from crumbling.
"Maybe I should have told Della what I was doing, but she would never have agreed, even if I did it to buy her something nice for Christmas," I asserted.
"Jim, there's nothing I want or that you could give me that would be better than your faithful, wonderful love!" sobbed Della.
I knew I had lost. Della was my wife and my love. I was angry as hell with her, but I couldn't lose her over this situation. It was Christmas Eve and I wanted my family together, and with me.
I stood and circled the table. Della rose and threw herself into my arms. I could feel those tits Frank had bragged about a few minutes earlier pressed against my chest and I reveled in the pleasure it brought to me.
"Jim, I was wrong. I know that. I knew it at the time, but I wanted so much to get you the engine for your car. It will help make this all better! I know it will. When you're riding around in that beautiful Road Runner, you'll think about how very much I love you!" cried Della.
"Well," I hesitated. "I sold that old car for most of the money I needed to buy your Grandmother's set. It was just sitting around, rusting away. I was never going to get it running and you loved your grandmother's collection so much."
"God! Jim, that car was given to you by your father! You loved that car! You should have told me what you were thinking. I would never have allowed it!" cried Della. Now I have an engine for a car that you no longer own and you have the remainder of a furniture set to complement the piece I no longer have!"
"What?" I demanded. "You don't have that piece we bought any more?"
"Jim, I had to sell it to get enough money to buy that engine for your car!" wailed Della. "That furniture didn't mean as much as that wonderful Road Runner that you and your Dad loved so much!"
"I think you both can learn a couple things here," suggested Helen. "You have each demonstrated a tremendous love for the other. You've also shown an amazing lack of consideration and communication. That destroys marriages, even with the greatest love between the couples. You both need to work on trust and communication."
"Yeah," added Frank. "And Jim needs to work on getting that engine in his car. I was buying it through a straw buyer. I collect classic cars and yours is a really good one. Keep it and pay me back when you can."
"And Della will have to refinish her furniture while Jim is working on his car," laughed Helen. "My best friend was the buyer of Della's piece and she's agreed to sell it to me, for a small profit. Della, you can repay me, as you are able. Merry Christmas!"
"Helen! Frank! You are such wonderful people! How can we ever repay you?" gushed Della as she clutched me tightly.
Helen took a swing at Frank's ribs as he responded to Della's rhetorical question with a grin.
"I can still use a girl with tits like yours at the club."
