Men, Women & Children (18 page)

Angelique got off his lap and went to her purse. Don had brought his own, being skeptical of the integrity of any condom used by a prostitute. But now that he had been put slightly at ease by meeting Angelique Ice, he almost felt embarrassed when he said, “Would you mind if we used mine?”

She said, “If they’re still in a sealed box, then I don’t mind.”

Don went to his jacket and removed a box of three Trojan latex condoms with spermicidal lubricant. He handed it to Angelique to inspect. She approved, opened the box, and took out one of the condoms. She said, “Lay down.” Don got into the bed and did as instructed, his erection throbbing. He felt as though he hadn’t had an erection like this one since he was in high school. He hoped the condom would take away enough sensitivity in his penis to allow him to prolong the experience.

He stared at the ceiling and felt Angelique Ice take his erection in her hands and roll the condom down the length of it, saying, “Such a big dick,” as she did. Don knew he had an average-sized penis. He knew that Angelique Ice told every one of her clients that he had a “big dick” or a “huge cock.” It was all part of the experience; it was bought and paid for. He tried to rid his mind of these thoughts, to make himself believe she wanted to be there, wanted to have sex with him. That was the chief thing he was seeking in this endeavor: to have sex with someone he believed wanted to have sex with him in return.

Once the condom was on, Angelique Ice stroked Don’s penis a few more times; then she climbed on top of him and slid his erection into her vagina. Don looked up at her as she sat on top of him. She was smiling. It was a sweet and sexy smile, one he had never seen on his wife’s face. He gripped her hips, which were shapely and soft in the way Don liked, and thrust into her. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, taking a deep breath, moaning, and then biting her bottom lip as Don continued to move his hips under her. She was giving all the signs Don needed to believe she was enjoying herself.

She reached down and moved one of Don’s hands from her left hip to her breast, giving Don an even stronger illusion that this was a normal sexual encounter, that Angelique Ice was engaging in sexual intercourse with him for no other reason than because she found it pleasurable. She said, “Your dick is so hard. I love feeling it in my pussy.” Don gave no verbal response. Instead he pulled his hips back, removing his penis from her, barely avoiding climax. He rolled her over onto her back, licked her nipples for a few seconds, listening to her moans, feeling her hands running through his hair, enjoying giving pleasure to a woman through sexual interaction, the thoughts of it all being an act on Angelique Ice’s part slowly fading.

He inserted his penis back into her and she grabbed his buttocks, pulling him deeper in. Don pressed himself to her, wanting to feel every inch of her skin against his. He wanted to kiss her, to feel like this was real, but he knew he couldn’t. It was at that moment that he knew he would be making another appointment with Angelique Ice, there was no question. Whatever guilt he might feel after the act had concluded would be incidental, and he assumed he would feel none anyway. He wondered when the soonest available time he could see her again was as she said, “Fuck me.”

The missionary position was Don’s least favorite. As a result, he was able to maintain a medium-paced rhythm as he penetrated Angelique Ice for several minutes without nearing climax. He began to sweat and feel self-conscious about it. Before he could apologize or wipe his face with his hand, though, Angelique Ice reached up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with her own hand, then wiped it across her breasts and said, “So fucking hot.”

Don looked at the clock. They had been engaged in sexual intercourse for almost thirteen minutes. Don knew he couldn’t last much longer. He was reaching the point at which the physical effort he was exerting was producing diminishing returns for the amount of sexual pleasure he was receiving. He rolled off of Angelique Ice and said, “Get back on top of me but face the other way.”

She said, “Oh, a fan of reverse cowgirl, are we?”

Don said, “Yeah.”

She said, “You want to fuck me in the ass like this so you can watch that big cock go in and out of my little pink asshole, don’t you?”

Don said, “Yeah.”

Angelique Ice climbed on top of Don, with her back facing him, and inserted his penis into her vagina. She rocked back and forth on his penis as he groped her buttocks. Don was enjoying himself and was on the verge of an orgasm but wanted to make sure he was getting everything he paid for, so he said, “I thought we were doing anal.”

Angelique said, “Patience, patience,” and then looked back at Don, smiled, and began sucking on her index finger. Her smile made Don think of Stoya. Don wondered if Stoya enjoyed herself while she was having sex in her movies or if it was just a job to her, just an act. He couldn’t tell. It seemed real to him in her movies. And Angelique Ice was approaching Stoya’s level of performance as she reached back and inserted her index finger, now glistening with her own saliva, into her anus. She moaned, actually seeming to enjoy it. Don stopped all his thrusting motion and tried to stave off orgasm. He could feel her finger pressing against the shaft of his penis through the wall of her rectum. It was easily the most pornographic sex he had ever been party to; just the thought of what he was doing was almost enough to make him reach orgasm.

Angelique removed her finger and said, “Do you want to put it in or do you want me to?”

Fearing that any further contact of Angelique Ice’s hands on his penis might produce a quick end to the encounter, Don said, “I will.”

She said, “Hurry. I want that big dick in my tight little asshole now.”

Don removed his penis from her vagina, moved his hips back a few inches, angled them for proper entry, and forced his erection into Angelique Ice’s anus. She looked back over her shoulder, smiled at him, and said, “You like fucking my little asshole?”

Don said, “Yeah,” and then bent over entirely, so that all Don could see was her buttocks moving up and down slowly with Don’s erect penis in her anus. He could feel his prostate starting to contract. This was it. He clutched her buttocks and let out a loud grunt as Angelique Ice sat down hard on his erection, taking the entire length of it in her rectum. She said, “Yeah, come for me, baby. Come right in that asshole.” Don’s leg twitched a little as the last amount of semen produced by his orgasm was pumped into the condom. Angelique rode Don for a few more seconds, smiling at him from over her shoulder again, and then dismounted him and said, “Did you like that?” as she rubbed his chest.

Don liked it more than anything he had done in his adult life. He had convinced himself in his youth that having sex with a prostitute was somehow demeaning for the woman and pathetic for the man. It was strange how easily the convictions of youth fade away with the apathy of age, he thought. He said, “That was incredible.”

Angelique said, “Well, I’m glad you liked it. You paid for an entire hour and I can stay for it if you want.”

Don said, “Yeah, that would be good, actually. I’m gonna go to the bathroom and get rid of this.”

Don went to the bathroom and removed the condom, checking his penis for any evidence of it having just been in someone’s anus. There was none. He gave his penis a cursory wash with the bathroom washcloth and returned to the bed, where Angelique was still naked and waiting. He said, “I don’t know if this is against the rules or anything, but could we just lie in the bed together, and maybe you put your head on my chest or something?”

Angelique said, “No, that’s fine. We have a little over half an hour left. We can do whatever you want.”

So they lay there in the hotel bed where they just had anal sex, with Angelique Ice’s head on Don Truby’s chest. Don tried to think of the last time he and his wife had done anything intimate like that—not engaging in any kind of sexual act but just lying together, feeling each other’s breathing, just being together. He couldn’t remember. Don fell asleep with the rhythm of Angelique’s breathing, and she woke him up when she had to leave. She said, “So, I’m glad you had a good time.”

Don said, “Yeah, thanks. I mean, I’d like to do it again if you want to.”

Angelique said, “Like a second date?”

Don said, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Angelique said, “Well, you know how to get in touch with me, and you know what I need if you want a longer date. So just send me a text whenever you want.”

Don said, “Okay.”

After she got dressed Don got out of bed and walked her to the door of his hotel room. The interaction hadn’t been strange to Don until that final moment. He wanted to kiss her good-bye. He had never had sex with a girl and not given her a kiss good-bye when they parted ways. He said, “I know I can’t kiss you. Can I give you a hug or something? I don’t know what to do really at this point.”

Angelique said, “A hug is fine.”

They hugged and Angelique Ice left his hotel room. Don went back to the bed and went back over every second of the encounter in his mind. He decided he would stay the night in the hotel. A night alone was something he hadn’t had in years. He tried to conjure some amount of guilt for what he had just done and wasn’t able to. He had never thought of himself as the type of man who was capable of having sex with a prostitute, but now he realized that not only was he that exact type of man, but he was the type would do it repeatedly until the day he died.

T
he alarm in Rachel Truby’s hotel room went off. She got out of bed and put on her makeup and a black dress that she had smuggled out of her house without her son or husband noticing. She looked in the mirror and thought to herself that she used to look much better, less tired, in better shape. She assumed this type of thing happened to all women at some point in their lives, and she further assumed that she was at that point in hers.

By the time she had brushed her teeth, put on deodorant, and decided she looked the best she possibly could, she still had twenty-four minutes until she was scheduled to meet Secretluvur. She decided that a drink before he showed up might not be such a bad idea, so she headed downstairs to the bar. Once there, she saw only one other person sitting in the bar, a slightly overweight black man. He looked at her as though he was waiting on someone, and she became aware of the possibility that this was Secretluvur. The initial moment of meeting a complete stranger would always be awkward, she thought, but the circumstances surrounding this specific meeting made it more so. She decided to sit at the bar and get a drink without asking him his identity, to wait until the agreed upon time and see if anyone else showed up. But before she could order a drink he said, “Are you . . . boredwife?”

Rachel said, “Uh, yeah. Hi—Secretluvur?”

Secretluvur said, “Yeah.”

The only other person in the room was the bartender, who heard the entire conversation. It was slightly embarrassing to Rachel to have this meeting played out in front of a complete stranger, whom she assumed was passing judgment on them both, but the meeting could be conducted in no other way. Rachel had never had any kind of physical interaction with a black man. She had wondered what it might be like, whether all of the stereotypes about large penises were true. Secretluvur had a nice-enough looking face, and although he was slightly overweight, he seemed to have broad shoulders and she assessed him to be muscular under the sport coat and slacks he chose to wear for their first meeting.

He said, “So, I don’t really know how this is supposed to go down.”

Rachel said, “It’s new to me, too. I guess we have a few drinks, talk a little, and then see what happens.”

He said, “Sounds good. What’ll you have?”

Rachel said, “Cosmo.”

He motioned to the bartender and said, “She’ll have a—”

The bartender cut him off, “I heard her.”

He said, “Okay,” then turned to Rachel, who had moved over to sit next to him, and said, “So what kind of work do you do?”

She said, “It’s boring. Bookkeeping-type things. It’s kind of a terrible job, actually, but I just got it this year, and so I’ve been trying to tell myself to stick it out. It pays pretty well, I guess. What about you?”

He said, “Exact same thing. I guess I’ve had the job a lot longer than just this year, though. I been at the same place now for, let’s see, ten years. Wow, you never think you’re gonna be at some place, doing something you don’t like, for that long. And then one day you meet up with a potential Internet affair and you kinda get your whole life in perspective, you know?” Rachel laughed. Her husband hadn’t made her laugh in a long time. Her husband was funny, and she laughed at some of the things he did or said, but he hadn’t made her laugh in a long time.

Something in Secretluvur’s attempt at humor, something beyond the way it was amusing, made Rachel appreciate him. It was as though his attempt to make her smile, to make her laugh, to make her enjoy the time she was spending with him, was a display of his value, and, in turn, an admission that through that display he saw value in her. He wasn’t trying to amuse himself or the bartender, the way her husband would have. Secretluvur didn’t care if anyone else in the world found his joke funny, as long as Rachel did. It was this attempt to make her laugh that made her decide to have sex with him that night, and it was that decision to have sex with him that made her further decide to let him do anything he wanted to her, and to do things to him that she had never done with her husband. She wanted to be a different person that night.