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Lissy gets a surprise; Memorial Day w the family.

And when they tipped, it was by the thousands.

John, I can't believe he told you that. He's insane, I could never be a hooker.

Honey, it's okay, but why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want you to get mad.

I wasn't mad, but she was brooding. She quickly turned her back to me, pulled the covers up and went to sleep.

On Saturday, I was trying to balance the checkbook, and it was clear we weren't going to meet all the bills this month. A loan was out of the question. Even if we could cut our budget back a little bit more, it wouldn't get us the money we needed in time. Something had to give.

John, what did you think when Steve brought up his proposition.

I told her I was stunned and didn't know what to say. Of course, ever since then I'd been thinking about my wife having sex with some rich guy for money, but I couldn't admit that to her. Instead, I assured her we would find some way to pay the bills.

John, I can read our bank statement as well as you, and I know we're screwed.

I could tell what her next words would be and how hard it was for her to say them.

I think we need to have another talk with Steve tonight.

Marcy called Steve, but there wasn't much to say. If Marcy agreed to work for him, what would she have to do? Anything and everything. She could act shy in public, but she had to be enthusiastic behind closed doors. In fact, a client had already talked to him today, needing a date at 9 that evening. Wear something slinky but elegant and be at the hotel by 8:30.

When Marcy hung up the phone, she just looked at me and said, I'm sorry. I told her, it was okay. If she couldn't do it, we would find another way. But she had made up her mind.

At 7:00, Marcy started getting dressed. She hadn't eaten anything all day, and I could understand why. The outfit she chose was a black leather skirt and a silver metallic handkerchief top that framed her breasts and left her back completely exposed. Simple black pumps with a 3" heel and pantyhose completed her outer appearance. Under the skirt, Marcy wore the skimpiest black g-string she owned. Her makeup was perfect and her hair simply flowed down her back like silk. Geez, I married a beautiful woman. Tonight, some other guy is going to learn just how lucky a husband I am. I didn't worry about her getting pregnant because, after trying for five years, the doctors told us Marcy couldn't conceive.

Off she went to her new 'job.' I knew she wouldn't be back till morning.

I'm no masochist. I could have followed her to the casino to catch a glimpse of the guy she was meeting. For my own sanity, it was better to stay at home and go to sleep, pretending at least to sleep.

Marcy didn't come home in the morning. It was the afternoon. 2:13 to be exact. And she was smiling.

As I opened the door, she ran to my arms, screaming 'Johnny, I love you. God how I missed you.' Not the greeting I was expecting, but then I didn't know what to expect. Instead of the sexy outfit from last night, she was wearing a perfectly tailored pair of tan slacks and a silk blouse.

We went into the living room and sat on the couch, me with my arms wrapped around her.

Steve took me straight to the high roller's salon and put me behind one of the chairs, whispering my name into the player's ear. The customer, Joseph, was about 40, trim build, but slightly balding. For the first hour, all I did was stand there while he played black jack. My gosh, he was betting $1500 a hand and he just kept winning. All the sudden, he just got up, took my hand in his and we walked to the private elevator. I guess the house made sure his winnings were credited to his account, because there was $200,000 in chips at the table. When we got to his suite, there was a butler waiting at the dining table. Lobster and it was delicious, with wines that made my head spin. We talked about Vegas, restaurants, his travels around the world. All the sudden, it was midnight, and the waiter was gone. Marcy, was that all you did? Talk?

No, Honey, then we danced in the suite which was enormous.

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