“You’re welcome. Take good care of him. He’s worth it.”
“As long as we’re talking about it, why did you throw him away? If you don’t mind telling me.”
“Sure, it’s certainly no secret. For six years, I was a good wife, and I treasured every moment with Tim. He was so kind, so caring, so wonderful, including in bed as you know. The only thing missing in our lives were children. We both really wanted a child. I don’t know if he told you, but I miscarried twice. I took it hard, especially with the second one. I was over four months along with him. It was a boy and we had started decorating the nursery in blue. The miscarriages were not only causing physical destruction to my body but also destruction of my soul. I stupidly kept Tim at a distance after the second miscarriage because he reminded me of my losses and my failure to provide him a child.
“My method of recovery was to focus on my job duties at the expense of paying attention to my marriage. I thought that Tim loved me so much, I could do anything and not lose his love. I decided to concentrate on obtaining the highest-ranking position and the most money I could – whatever it took. It went well for a couple of years. I got several raises and promotions on my own merits although the short skirts and exposed cleavage didn’t hurt. Then I plateaued. The next rung for advancement was offered to me IF I would be ‘nice’ to the boss. When I found out what being nice meant, I wasn’t at all shocked and readily accepted the terms. I was so selfish I didn’t consider Tim’s feelings at all. He, however loved me almost unconditionally and trusted me so the eventual confrontation was delayed. I figured that if my method of advancement bothered him, he would still understand and agree because I was just doing what I needed to succeed.
“Eventually, Tim found out about my whoring and confronted me. I basically responded, ‘So what?’ Tim still said he would forgive me as long as I quit. But I was too far into the game to give up. We divorced. I had pushed Tim past his limit of unconditional love. My boss moved me into a love nest apartment. I stopped talking to Tim. It was an amicable divorce as far as I was concerned. To Tim, it tore his heart out. I ignored his pain. It was a long time after before I realized what I had done to him and me.
“At first, being ‘nice’ to my boss was just involved having sex with him. Then it became him and a few of his friends but finally, I was helping secure contracts from clients by offering them sex to sign contracts. As it turned out, I made a lot of bonus money. Eventually, it came crashing down when one the clients I fucked came up with a venereal disease. He confessed to his wife that I was one of the women he fucked in order to do business. She blew the whistle on me and my boss with the board of directors. Although it turned out that I wasn’t the source of his disease, my boss and I got fired. All of a sudden, there I was — humiliated, homeless, divorced, unemployed, and quickly running out of money. Although I had made a lot of money, I had acquired expensive tastes I didn’t curtail at first. I applied for employment a number of places over many months but didn’t have anything for my efforts except blisters on my feet, a compounding debt and more offers to have sex.
“It got so bad that I decided one day to beg Tim for financial help. I stalked him a while before I approached him. On that day, I saw him and you and Jessie at a park when Jessie was a toddler. I just couldn’t bring myself to approach him. I couldn’t re-enter his life and take the chance of messing up his second marriage. He never knew.
“There was only one way out of debt I could see — escorting. Essentially, I would be doing the same thing I had been doing with the men at the office. At the time, my looks and wardrobe helped me get a job quickly. I made good money from escorting and soon paid off my debts. Honestly, I liked a lot about what I was doing. I ate at the finest restaurants, saw plays and attended concerts. Most of the men I was with were clean, well-off men of some importance. A couple didn’t even ask about having sex. They just wanted a sympathetic ear. Most, however, also wanted and got sex from me. Back then, I could orgasm fairly easily. Now, it’s rare.
“As time went on, I picked up some bad habits: smoking and drinking were the worst. I tried harder drugs, but I came close to overdosing one time. That scared me enough that I haven’t been tempted again. As my appearance diminished over the years, so did the request for my services. I decided that the agency was not supporting me and went out on my own starting with a few of my regulars from my escorting days. They helped me get some new referrals and I got steady customers although they were of a lower class than what I had been used to. I was doing okay until the pimp in charge of the territory where I lived found out about me. He gave me two choices: work for him or get some acid makeup on my face. I worked for him. My income went down, and the class of clients went in the toilet. I did things for men that I never thought I would ever do. I was hurt often during rough sex but badly only a few times. You saw some of the results of those last night.
“My pimp was always upset because he thought I spent too much time with the clients. His quota was 10 Johns or $2000 per day and I would be beaten if I didn’t make my quota. Eventually, my sex appeal drained as my health deteriorated. When I could no longer meet my daily quota, my pimp accused me of cheating him out of money and had me beaten up one last time. They dumped my body at the ER. That’s when the hospital called Tim. I had never taken his name off as the person to contact. I’m sorry. I never meant to interfere in his life again.”
A visibly shaken Abby exclaimed, “Wow! That must have been horrible for you. I sure hope we can help you get your life straight.”
By that time, they had parked in the lot at Walmart. “Abby, aren’t you going in with me?”
“No. Here’s the credit card. I’ll just wait here. You know the limit.”
“You trust me?”
“Yes.” Jasmine walked towards the entrance. Abby sat and cried. She couldn’t believe that Jasmine’s story had affected her so much. She began to be ashamed over how she initially reacted to Jasmine.
*****
JESSIE AND TIM
“Take a break, Dad. I made some lemonade from real lemons.”
Tim came into the kitchen. He noticed the mess Jessie had made in preparing the drink. He almost dreaded tasting the lemonade because Jessie liked a lot of sugar in hers as in 50%. To his surprise, it was more sour than sweet. She saw his surprised expression.
“I’ll let you sweeten it however much you want.”
“Thanks, pass the Splenda.”
“Dad, could Aunt Jasmine be arrested for what she did?”
“You mean prostitution?”
“Yes.”
“I imagine she has been arrested before. Most of the time, however the police don’t care as long as no one complains.”
“What does she do in the daytime? Aren’t hookers like vampires and only work at night?”
“She probably sleeps during the day like third shift workers. You’ll have to ask her for sure.”