Chapter 1

"You're disgusting!" I exclaimed, pushing my husband away from me. "I can't believe you'd say that to me!"

"No, I'm not disgusting. You're just a prude," Phil retorted. "Other women like sex. Why is it such a chore for you?"

"It isn't a chore. Who cuddled up to you this morning, trying to have some fun before you leave? I didn't have to do anything, but I did."

Phil slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. At the door, he turned and looked back at me. "That's just it. You look at in terms of whether or not you 'should' or 'have to' have sex. I guess I'd like someone just once who wanted to."

When I heard the shower start, I got out of bed and went downstairs to make some tea. I usually made coffee for Phil but I was too mad. He could get his own damned breakfast. I waited until I heard him in the bedroom, then headed back. Round Two.

Phil was already dressed, carrying clothes from his closet to the large suitcase on the bed. He ignored me as I leaned on the doorjamb and gave him a tentative smile.

"Look, honey, I love you and I try to show you that all the time," I started. "and I'm willing to try new things- some new things- but I'm not a sex maniac. If that's what you wanted, you married the wrong person."

"I didn't ask you to be a sex maniac," he replied. "All I said was that things were getting sort of boring and maybe we could try a few new things. Nothing drastic, just loosen up and have a little fun. You have a great body and I love seeing you act sexy. Why won't you open up a little?"

"Nothing drastic?" Against my will, I felt my voice rising. "You said you wanted me to dress up like a hooker and go downtown! How much more drastic than being a whore can it get?"

"I never asked you to be a whore," he snapped back. "Just pretend to be one and I'll be the guy who hires you. No other guys, just you and I playing a little game. Is that so bad?"

"Yes, it is! It's terrible!" I screamed. "What if people I work with saw me, or my parents or something? You wouldn't be the one standing out there, half naked. Maybe that's what you really want- a whore. Is that it? You'd like to pick up a prostitute?" I paused. "Or maybe some of those tramps you work with?"

Phil slammed his suitcase closed. "Those women are not tramps. Just because they dress nicely, you think they're all cheap and loose. Did it ever occur to you that they just might like feeling sexy, feeling beautiful, feeling wanted? Instead of slamming them, maybe you should try to be more like them."

I snorted. "You want me to be more like Kelly? Your secretary couldn't keep her legs together on a bet. She'll fuck anybody. If you're not sleeping with her, you must be the first boss she's ever had that didn't."

"Let me tell you about Kelly," Phil flared. "She's never done anything to you, yet you continue to slam her every chance you get. You think she hasn't heard the things you say about her when you come to the office? She's a good secretary- efficient and energetic. Sure she wears sexy outfits, but so what? I for one enjoy looking at an attractive woman. That doesn't mean I'm having an affair with her. I'd rather be attracted to you. You could be as sexy as her if you would just try. Instead of insulting her the next time you see her, maybe you should ask her for advice on being a woman!"

"If you think so much of her, you can have her!" I yelled, shocked that my husband would say such things to me. "She's a fucking slut!"

He looked at me for a minute, then spoke in a low voice. "No, she's not a fucking slut. You're a fucking prude. I'm not sure what you're saying but I think we both need to examine our marriage and see where we're headed. I'm not going to go on like this." With that he brushed past me, out the door.

I looked out the door as he backed out of the driveway. There went my husband of 19 years, leaving for a week to travel up and down the coast visiting vendors and finding solutions to tough questions. I wondered if he had an answer to mine. Was I going to celebrate my twentieth anniversary? It didn't look good.

I don't know what would have happened if Phil hadn't been away that week. Maybe he'd have come home that night and we'd have apologized to each other and gone back to our comfortable life. Maybe he'd have come home mad and we'd have had a huge fight and it would have been over for good. With him gone for a week, we both had time to examine our marriage. I just hoped he didn't do anything rash, out of anger, while he was away. We needed to try to put our relationship back together.

Monday and Tuesday I was so mad I almost filed divorce papers myself. How dare he call me a prude? By Tuesday night, though, I was missing him and getting lonely and a little more ready to examine myself. I didn't like what I saw. Phil was right, I was a prude.

Wednesday afternoon my boss caught me weeping at my desk. He pulled me into his office and, with a little prompting, I broke down and told him the whole story.

"Look, Rhonda, I'm no psychologist and I'm no marriage counselor," Mr. Foster said. "I do know men, though. It might be time for you to compromise a little. Phil isn't asking you for the world, just to act a little sexier in the bedroom. You don't have to do things you're not comfortable with but why not try a few new things?"

"But some of the things he wants to try are perverted," I complained. "I can't even say what they are, how am I ever going to do them?"

"Hey, far be it from me to tell you what to do, but if you love him maybe it wouldn't hurt you to experiment a little. Maybe you'll find out you like it."

I shook my head. "No way. I could never look myself in the mirror if I did some of those things."

He shook his head. "I think that's part of the problem you're having with your husband. Stop worrying so much about your image. Your sex life is between you and Phil and if you want to save your marriage, maybe it's time to surprise him. Do it in the privacy of your own home. Nobody will know and you'll have him panting after you again in no time. I think you'll be surprised how much you can do and still look yourself in the mirror."

I sniffed. "Do you think so?"

He laughed. "I know so. I'm a guy, remember? Give him a welcome home Friday night that will put a smile on his face for a week. In fact, things are pretty slow here right now. Why don't you take next week off? Take Phil up to my cabin and rekindle your romance."

"Really? You're the greatest," I said, hugging him. "I'll do it! Phil will be so surprised."

Mr. Foster smiled and patted me on the rear. "Atta girl. You can do it. Now get back to work."

I spent the rest of the day and all day Thursday planning my surprise. My coworkers must have thought I was on drugs or something, the way I sat there smiling and daydreaming. By the time I left work Thursday night, I knew what I wanted to do.

If Phil wanted me to role-play, that's what I'd do. I still wasn't comfortable with the hooker deal but I thought I could be a French maid, at least around the house. It was sexy but didn't require going anywhere.

I drove across town to a costume store. After checking all the racks, I still couldn't find what I was looking for so I asked a salesgirl for help. When I shyly described what I wanted, she grinned.

"You're looking for the private section of our store. Follow me." She led me to a small door in the back of the store. As soon as I stepped through, I blushed.

"Don't be embarrassed. We're the only ones back here," she said when she noticed my shock. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Phil would have loved this place. It was a monument to erotica. The racks were lined with all kinds of sexy outfits- nurse's uniforms, cheerleader's outfits and bunny costumes for women, superhero costumes and pirate outfits for men. Several maid outfits were there, each skimpier than the next. I saw one I knew Phil would enjoy.