My wife, Denise, had been very agitated lately. Something was bothering her, but my inquiries were deflected out-of-hand. Since nothing seemed wrong between us, I told myself it was work related. When she came home Thursday night, her anxiety had reached a new peak.
"What's going on?"
"We need to talk," she said. "Mix me a drink and make it strong, please."
Five years ago when she was nineteen, Denise went to work for a large privately owned company. Smart, a hard worker and good looking, she'd been promoted from the typing pool through the ranks. A month ago, she was selected to be one of the three executive assistants to Mr. J. Woodward Chase, the billionaire owner.
The promotion had three unusual job requirements. She had to dye her hair blonde, maintain her figure, and Mr. Chase would select and pay for all her work clothing. The clothes he selected were demure, classy and expensive with an elegant, understated sexiness. Denise looked good as a blonde. She'd inherited a narrow waisted, full breasted figure from her mother which required little diet and exercise to maintain. The clothes made her look even better.
"I want you to listen to everything I have to say, Danny. Don't get up and run off. Okay?"
"Sure, baby. What's wrong? Did I do something?"
"No, honey. It's about work. It's a long story."
"I'm all ears," I replied, settling back into my chair.
"Do you know why I was picked to be one of Mr. Chase's assistants?"
"Besides the fact you're wonderful? No. Why?"
"He can trust me. I treat everything like it was top secret. I always have. I would've had more friends among the secretaries if I'd shared gossip from time to time, but I never did. Trust is very important to me."
"You are very trustworthy."
"Yes, I am and so are you. That's one of the things I've always admired about you. Trust is the cornerstone of a marriage as well as a business relationship, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," I said.
"About a year ago I heard a rumor Mr. Chase had a mistress who gave birth to three children by him. I didn't believe it. All rich men have wild stories floating around about them, you know, about women or crooked deals or whatever."
She took a deep breath and sipped at her scotch and water.
"As an executive assistant, I see his personal, confidential files, things no one else sees. Some of these files relate to that rumor. The rumor's true. His mistress gave birth to three of his children. Only, Danny, it's not one mistress - it's four. Four women have had his children out of wedlock."
"You're kidding me."
"No, I'm not. It's true. Mr. Chase has nineteen children, seven with his wife and three each by four other woman. I wondered why any man would want so many. I did some reading. Many anthropologists think all men have a deep biological urge to impregnate as many women as possible."
"I've read about that. All mammals have it."
"Mr. Chase certainly does. He's very intelligent, physically large and powerful, and rich, so if all that's the result of good genes, his must be very good."
"There are other gene qualities, you know," I said.
"Yes, there are. All sorts of things are genetically based. Life expectancy is inherited, in part anyway, as are heart attacks, cancers, and a whole bunch of other diseases."
"I'd never really thought about it. I must have some good genes, too. Everybody in my family lives into their seventies."
"My family's even longer lived, but nothing compared to Mr. Chase. He's fifty-three. His father's going strong at seventy-two and his grandfather's ninety-four. His great-grandfather died at one hundred three. Old Mr. Chase has a forty-year-old girl friend, so even that works, I suspect."
"Denise, why are we discussing this?" The back of my neck tingled.
"Women have a tougher time of it. We're the givers of birth and the ones who raise the young. The future of the species depends upon how well we do our job. Women have to select a man to love and who loves them, someone who will care for them and help care for their children. And we have to select the right man to impregnate us so the children'll carry the best possible genes."
The tingle exploded into tremors.
"What does that mean?"
"I've been thinking about having a baby."
"Oh? When we talked about it a month ago, you wanted to wait until you were thirty."
"That's true, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I'm ready now. I want to be pregnant."
"And?" I said. I felt light headed and sweat beaded on my brow.
She leaned forward. Her eyes were pin points of intensity. "Do you trust me, Danny? Do you trust me with your life and your future?"
"Then you must trust me on this, too, because it's our future. Ours and our children. You must trust my instinct to do what's best for all of us."
"What are you trying to say?" The sweat flowed and I wiped my face with my handkerchief.
"My instinct, my gut-level female intuition, tells me to select the best male for loving, living with, and nurturing my children. That's you. It's always been you. I love you, Danny. Trust me on that. "
I didn't answer. I don't think she expected one, but I couldn't speak if she did.
"Those same instincts tell me to choose the best possible gene pool to impregnate me. Danny, Mr. Chase wants me to be his fifth mistress and have three children by him. He asked me Wednesday."
"Go on," I croaked.
"I accepted. I'll become his mistress and have his three children. I know it's the best thing for the children and for us."
"Do you love him?"
"No! Trust me, Danny. This isn't love. This is biology and genetics. I don't want to spend my life with him."
"But you want him, not me, to father your children."
"Our children. The ones we'll raise together."
"Is it about sex?"
"What do you mean?"
"Have you had sex with him?"
"No, of course not."
"Has he asked you to do it?"
"No, he hasn't."
"Do you want to?"
"I must have sex with him in order to have his children. That's what this is about, having children."
"But do you want to have sex with him?"
"Danny, don't you trust me?"
"Of course I do."
"Then you know I've always been faithful to you."
"If it's about children, well, are we going to have any?"
"We'll have three children."
"No, I mean are you going to have any children I father."
"I knew what you meant, but it's important you realize these three will be yours. Your nurturing will help mold them. I don't think we should have more than three. That'll be enough."
"I don't like this. You need to tell him no."
"Weren't you listening? I agreed to do it."
"Maybe that decision was for you, but it wasn't for me."
"Yes, it was. It was for us. You have to trust me and my intuition, Danny."
"And if I don't trust you on this, Denise? What then?"
"If you don't trust me, how can I trust you? I can't let a man I don't trust help me raise my children. It's too important."
She yawned and stretched, letting her robe open to treat me to a view of her body. "I'm ready for bed, honey. Please come hold me."
That was as demonstrative as Denise ever got in asking for sex. We made love as we always did. I played with her until she warmed up. She brought her knees up, letting me enter her. I pumped away until my orgasm came. She put a towel between her legs and rolled over, her back to me, and went to sleep. We did it that way twice a week, sometimes three.
I sometimes wondered if she really liked sex. She assured me she almost always orgasmed. I could feel the contractions of her pussy on my cock, hear her breathing change and feel the elevation of her body heat, so I believed her. But where was the explosion? Where were the sweat, the moaning and the other signs? Where was the ecstasy and passion?
Maybe that was it. Maybe I wasn't sexually pleasing her and that's why she wanted to accept Mr. Chase's offer. Maybe it was pure lust. She slept soundly beside me as I thought about the bombshell she'd dropped on me that night. It was early morning when sleep finally came. I wished a decision had come with it.
Denise awakened me the next morning. "We have a four o'clock appointment this afternoon with Mr. Chase. He'll explain the financial arrangements to you."
"What financial arrangements?"
"Of me being his mistress. Have a good day, honey. I'll see you at four and don't you dare be late." She kissed me on the cheek and left me with the same thoughts I'd had all night.
I arrived at three fifty-five dressed in my best suit. Their offices were on the top floor of a major office building. I went to the thirty-third floor, cleared security, changed elevators and continued to the top. The floor receptionist passed me to the receptionist for Mr. Chase. Denise was beaming when she came out. She took both my hands and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're here. You don't understand how valuable Mr. Chase's time is. His meeting with us is quite an honor."
"He should be honored you agreed to be his mistress," I said under my breath.
"Danny, many women would love to have an offer like this. He picked us and it's our honor. Now be on your best behavior."
Mr. Chase was standing beside a large conference table covered in documents. Two men and two women were with him. "His key men and the other E.A.s," Denise whispered. Both the women were very attractive, blonde, built, and beautifully dressed, just like Denise. I wondered if either of them had been offered the "honor" he offered us.
J. Woodward Chase was what I expected. Physically imposing, immaculately groomed, he was a large man, thick and barrel chested as well as tall. He greeted me warmly and started small talk to put me at ease. If he had special feelings for Denise, they didn't show. I was surprised I liked him in spite of the situation. I knew I'd respect and, maybe, fear him. Liking him was a plus. Finally, he turned to the topic at hand.
"What has Denise told you about my offer, Dan?" he asked.
"Very little except she'll become your mistress and bear three of your children."
"That's the emotional bottom line," he said with a smile. "Let me tell you about the financial bottom line. Do you know what a trust is?"
"A trust is a legal agreement which transfers assets to a trustee for the benefit of someone," he began. I listened closely as he explained the agreement establishing a trust for Denise, me and the three children of his she would bear. When I looked at her, she was smiling happily and appeared unconcerned about the financial ramifications. I wondered if she'd been over them previously or if her motivation was non-financial.
"In addition, I'll bonus out one hundred thousand dollars after tax to Denise on the day the agreement's signed to be used as down payment on a new house and its furnishings," Mr. Chase concluded.
"How much do you expect the income from the trust to be, Mr. Chase?"
"Before taxes, about two hundred thousand a year. That's a four per cent return on the five million trust principle."
I blanched. He was watching me intently. Denise seemed to be in another world.
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the money because there was a lot of it in this trust. I was making sixty thousand a year. Two hundred thousand more seemed like a dream. When the trust terminated, Denise, the three children and I would have a million in cash each. It was mind- boggling.
"The reason for the trust, Dan, is to provide a good life style for my children and their mother. I wouldn't bring a child into the world and not provide for them financially. Denise would continue to work here until she became pregnant with the first child. After that, her responsibility would be raising those kids. Part of the agreement would be that you continue to work. I want a stable, normal household for them."
"Thank you for explaining it, Mr. Chase. It's very generous."
"I want the best for my children and their family, Dan. Trust me when I say I'll never intrude upon their lives, but I'll be there if wanted or needed."
Mr. Chase's expression appeared to be honest and sincere, but a man didn't reach his position without controlling his emotions. Denise was a cat, inscrutable.
"May I ask about the sexual part?" I inquired.
"What do you want to know?" Mr. Chase replied.
"I assume you'll have sex with her at least three times."
His eyes were cold when they cut to Denise. Her expression didn't change.
"Dan, I thought you understood that. She'll be my mistress. I'll have sex with her when and where I want. It won't be just to impregnate her. If we agree to this, we'll have sex immediately. After about a year, she'll go off the pill. I like to space the babies two years apart. After she's recovered from the birth of the third baby, she and I will take a week together somewhere. Our sexual relations will end after that week. So, for about eight years, Denise and I'll have sex on a regular basis."
Denise's expression still didn't change, but her legs were crossed and the foot in the air was rocking back and forth.
"You understood that, didn't you, Denise?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Chase. I understood," she replied. Her voice was sultry, like I'd never heard.
My emotions were a jumbled mass, like neutrons in a particle accelerator. Mr. Chase must have seen that.
"Denise, excuse us. I want to talk to Dan alone."
She bolted upright, shaking and apprehensive. She started to speak, but his look silenced her. She didn't look at me as she turned on her heel and walked from the room.
"Want a drink, Dan?" Mr. Chase asked.
"If you're having one."
"I think I will. What'll you have?"
"Scotch and water, please."
He pushed a button and one of his executive assistants appeared. He introduced her as Virginia and ordered drinks, which she prepared before leaving us. After we sat in his conversation area, he loosened his tie and took a sip.
"Dan, I don't think Denise being my mistress is a good idea."
That floored me and I gasped, "Why?"
"If I put ads in the major papers offering this trust arrangement, I'd have five million women accept within two days. But - this isn't something I do lightly. I'm concerned about the women and my children. I do care. While I provide genes and money, the children will be raised outside my direct control and that always concerns me. I've never had a married mistress and, at this point, the dynamics trouble me."
"Why?" I knew why I was troubled, but why was he?
"When Denise asked me to make her my mistress, I... "
"Excuse me, Mr. Chase. Denise asked you?"
"Yes, she did. That's another troublesome issue. I've always initiated the agreement."
"She told me you asked her."
He reached under the table next to the couch and Virginia appeared again. "Put on the tape of Denise from Wednesday, Virginia," he said. A screen lowered from the ceiling.
"It's ready, Mr. Chase. Would you like another drink?" she asked, handing him a remote control. She refreshed our drinks before leaving.
"Denise and Charlotte really report to Virginia. She's assistant number one. She's forty-nine, happily married, and been with me since she was eighteen. We had a brief affair when we were both young and single. I haven't touched her in almost thirty years, but I trust her with my life. She knows things the others don't know, such as everything in this office can be recorded on both audio and video."
Nervously, I sipped my drink.
"I recorded my discussion with Denise on Wednesday. I want you to see it."
The screen lit up. Denise was standing in front of his desk. She looked excited.
"Yes, Denise," he said.
"I'd like to talk to you, Mr. Chase."
"I overheard Virginia talking to Charlotte about protocol relating to Margaret Woodman."
"That's no concern of yours, Denise."
She took a step toward his desk. Her tongue flicked across her lips. Erect, head held high, she was poised and beautiful. However, there was hesitation in her eyes, an indecisiveness which flickered in her heat.
"Well, Denise, whatever it is, spit it out," Mr. Chase said. He sounded irritated and I wished I could see his face.
"How do you select your mistresses?" she asked. The words burst from her. A tear rolled down her right cheek and she turned beet red. A tremor starting in her feet rolled up her body.
"Why do you ask?"
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Another tear fell, then a few more followed it, one by one. Her hands clenched and unclenched.
"Why do you ask?" he repeated softly. Still, she didn't answer. "Why don't you leave and come back when you're ready to talk." She took a step backward, then another. She turned away as if to leave, stopped and turned back to him again.
"You know why I asked, " she accused.
"Yes, I do, but I want you to say it. If you can't say it, you can't do it."
Her head bowed as she nodded agreement. She shyly whispered, "I want to be your mistress."
"Do you know what that means?"
"Yes. I'll have your babies."
"It's more than that. You and I will be lovers. We'll make love whenever I want."
She stared at him, open mouthed and wide eyed. "I knew there'd be many times, but I didn't think about all the time."
"Why don't you think about it? Now, if you'll excuse me."
Defeated and dejected, she walked away. The screen went black and the lights came on. Mr. Chase was studying me now as I'm sure he studied Denise that day.
"Want a refill on that drink, Dan?"
I nodded. We were silent as Virginia again refreshed the drinks.
"That film was shot at nine-thirty in the morning. What you're going to see now started at four- eleven in the afternoon."
The lights went off and the screen lit up. Denise was again standing in front of his desk.
"I've thought about it. I want to do it." Her eyes were alert and excited, her face radiant.
"Be your mistress."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Very sure." She did look sure. She'd reached a decision.
"I'm glad to hear it. You're a very intelligent and attractive young woman. Let's get started. Take your clothes off."
"Now?" she whispered.
"Yes, now. Take you clothes off and then we'll have sex."
"All right," she said in a hoarse, sexy tone.
Denise's eyes were wide with anticipation as her hands reached for the top button of her blouse. The screen went blank and the lights turned on. Mr. Chase was watching me intently. My hands were shaking and I finished my drink in one gulp.
As Virginia refilled our drinks, I thought about what Denise had told me. She'd said Mr. Chase didn't ask her to have sex. That was true, in a way, I guess. He didn't ask; he ordered. What had she said about her wanting sex with him? I couldn't remember, but she seemed eagerly ready to participate. My emotions were wild and confused. I didn't know if I trusted myself to sit through the rest of that tape.
"I can't imagine what's going on in your mind right now," Mr. Chase said. There was compassion in his voice. "Are you all right?" He waited patiently.
"I want to see the rest of the tape," I stammered.
The lights went out. That day Denise had worn a sleeveless, hot pink, form fitting blouse buttoned to the neck, over an uplift bra. Her charcoal black skirt was very tight and ended four inches above her knees. She wore open toed black pumps with four inch heels and nude colored stockings.
Her eyes danced as she slipped the top button through its eyelet and parted the neck of the blouse. Slowly, her fingers undid the second button and the third. Her eyes never left him.
Her movements and expression subtly changed as she undid the fourth button. Her fingers struggled with a once simple task. Her eyes dimmed and uncertainty clouded over them. The fourth button opened and the pink of her bra was visible.
Her struggle increased with the fifth button. With the sixth, she appeared shocked by what was happening, but her fingers continued as if someone else was moving them. She gasped when she unzipped her skirt and it slipped down. Held by one last button, the tail of her blouse covered her panties.
"No," she mouthed, but the last button opened and the blouse slipped from her shoulders. Her sheer bra trapped, but displayed, the bounty of her breasts. The full lips of the treasure between her legs strained against the wet transparency of her bikini panties. She froze that way, her face anguished, her body ripe and ready.
On the film, the phone rang.