We stopped for dinner and gas at a truck stop just outside of Wichita. We had been visiting Cookie's folks in Mulvane and we were headed back home to Denver. I was looking forward to getting home to my own bed and not just because I wanted to sleep. Cookie's parents live in a house with paper-thin walls and Cookie wouldn't let me make love to her there. I had slept next to her, but had gone without sex for the whole nine days we were there and I was hurting. I had pulled into a rest stop and had tried to get Cookie into the back seat, but she told me no, "I want it as bad as you do baby, but let's wait until we get home."
I had gotten up to use the bathroom and when I came back to the table Cookie wasn't there. I guessed that she had also gone to the bathroom, but when she hadn't come back after five minutes I began to wonder just where in the hell she had gotten to. I was just getting ready to get up and stick my head in the ladies room when the waitress came up to me and handed me a piece of paper.
"The lady you were with asked me to wait ten minutes and give this to you." I took it from her and saw that it was a note from Cookie to me.
"I've decided to give you the fantasy that you have always wanted. See you at home."
Give me my fantasy? I didn't have any fantasies. Why in the hell hadn't I been able to make her understand that? I sat in the booth another hour waiting for her to come back and then I went out to the car and waited another forty-five minutes before I accepted the fact that she wasn't coming back.
As I drove home to Denver alone I thought back to how it all had started. It had been my birthday and my younger brother Ron had given me a subscription to Penthouse Letters. I really had no interest in the magazine or it's content, but when the issues began to arrive I read them. I didn't believe for one minute that the letters in the magazine were real or if they were they were written by idiots. Real people didn't say things like "magnificent fuck stick" or "marvelous meat pole." And none of the people were ugly or ordinary looking; everyone had larger than average cocks and the women were all drop dead gorgeous. They were good for a laugh and so I generally read most of the issue before tossing it out.
After about the fifth issue Cookie started asking me why I wasted my time reading such filth, "Honestly Dave, I don't understand why you just don't toss that in the trash when it comes in."
Another month passed by and when the next issue arrived and Cookie saw me reading it she said, "Is that garbage reaching you on some level? Is that why you read it? Do you find things in there that excite you? You are changing Dave, you aren't the man I married anymore."
I thought she was over-reacting. She came from a fairly straight-laced background and for the first two years of our marriage wouldn't even make love with the lights on. Things came to a head with the ninth issue. I was sitting on the living room couch reading it when Cookie came in and said, "What is it Dave? Do you see me doing those things? Do you have some sick fantasy about seeing me or having me do the things described in that magazine? Is that it Dave? You want to watch me with another man? What is it Dave, you want to see me with a black man, maybe do a gangbang? Or is it another woman you want to see me with? You are one sick puppy Dave" and she stormed out of the room leaving me sitting there wondering just what the hell happened. But her tirade told me something - she was reading the magazines, how else would she know the content?
.... There is more of this story ...