"What do you mean?" I asked.
"When we were on vacation, you said your fantasy was to watch me with another man with no one else around."
"Yes, I did say that. I was thinking more like at home or in a motel room. What is this setup anyway?"
"Isn't it obvious? We do live sex shows here. This room is for the audience and the other one is the stage."
"This is part of your job?"
"Yes. Let me explain how it works. The audience pays twenty dollars apiece to watch; the house gets that. The guy in the show pays the girl two hundred which she keeps. I had to give Carl this guy's two hundred so you could be in here alone while I fucked him. The johns have to submit a blood test every six months, and they can't be johns unless they are recommended by others. Carl checks them out to be sure they aren't cops."
"So you're telling me you're a whore."
Her face went livid with rage. "You listen to me, my darling pimp...."
"Who are you calling a pimp?"
"You! Remember that twelve thousand dollars we made on vacation? You lined up the johns and took their money while I fucked them. That's pimping. What did you think you were doing?"
"I saw it as living a fantasy. It was your idea to go for ten thousand. I figured the gangbangs were your fantasy."
"I said that to get you excited. I didn't expect you to go for it. It was still prostitution. We, both of us, took money for sex. Remember that woman who paid you? You are just as much a whore as I am. If I had set you up with her, I'd be a pimp too."
I felt completely deflated. "Is this why you took this job?"
"I took it for the money. I want to buy us a house. I want to pay my parents back for putting me through college. They scrimped and saved every penny they had for me. I owe it to them."
"So you've been doing this all the time you've worked here?"
"All but the first two weeks. I have to get blood tests every month, otherwise, I would be limited to serving drinks. That keeps everybody safe, and the johns can have bareback sex. I make more on one trick than I do in drink tips on a busy Saturday night. I've been averaging six thousand a week."
My eyes widened in shock. "You're talking about three hundred thousand dollars a year. You've been working here for over a year. Where's all the money?"
"I've given some to my parents. I still owe them fifty thousand dollars. Twenty thousand is in the bank. The rest is in stocks and mutual funds which have done very well. We're worth about a quarter million. I haven't completely wasted my education."
"I guess not. Where do we stand now? I mean us, you and me, our marriage?"
"I figure another two years here and we'll be millionaires. We could buy a house and retire before we're thirty."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"David, I love you. If you want a divorce, I understand. If I were you, I probably would. I should have been more honest with you. I was a sex machine before we met. Maybe I'm addicted to sex. I love sex. I can't get enough. I don't mean you're a lousy lover; you're fabulous. You know my body better than anyone else; you give me stronger orgasms than anyone I've ever known; you play me like a violin; I love it. Now I'm scared. If you say quit, I'll do it right now. If you want out, you can have everything. I don't know what I'm saying. I just know I love you."
I was silent for a minute. I certainly had a lot to gain from a divorce. Her income would be gone, but should money be the reason to continue our marriage? I would lose the hottest woman I had ever known. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat before speaking. "I love you too." I paused. "I learned something about myself on our trip. I should have told you sooner. Starting the second night...before I assumed my role as your...your pimp, knowing we had an audience turned me on tremendously."
"I noticed you were a lot hotter. I feel that way, too, when I'm on the stage."
"Are you the only one doing this?"
"No, there are others. The customers seem to prefer me. Maybe it's because I have the biggest tits."