Chapter 18: The Husbands’ Meeting

The Uber stopped, and the driver turned around to Tim and smiled.

“Here we are, sir!” the driver said cheerfully. He was an experienced driver and knew a friendly send-off to a rider meant he had a better chance at getting a tip.

“How much is it?” Tim asked.

“It has already been paid for, sir,” the driver answered.

Tim had never taken an Uber, so he opened his wallet and handed the driver a five-spot as the driver smiled and took off. The driver smiled again as his net fare of $38.45 from the suburbs of Seattle to the well-known Metropolitan Grill downtown appeared on his Uber driver app, showing a twenty-dollar additional tip. “I wish every ride were as profitable!” he muttered to himself.

Tim walked inside the upscale steakhouse, and the hostess smiled. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m here for the SES meeting.”

“Certainly, sir! They are in our private dining room, please, follow me,” she said, turning and walking to the back of the upscale restaurant and into a private dining room. There were seven other men and five empty seats. All were well-dressed in suits or tailored sport jackets and wearing ties.

“Glenda is your server this evening,” she said, pointing to a smartly dressed middle-aged woman. Tim was led to his seat, where a card with his first name was placed to identify the seat that was held for him.

“Will you be having a glass of our recommended Cabernet or Merlot, or can I get you something else to drink, sir?”

Uhh, I’ll have a glass of Merlot.”

“Certainly, sir. We are pouring a Leonetti Merlot tonight, and this year’s vintage is being called one of the best in years. I’ll be right back.”

The other men had all arrived within the last fifteen minutes, and it was obvious that nobody knew anyone else. All but two were drinking red wine, while one was drinking an 18-year-old single malt Scotch and another a high-end Kentucky bourbon. As Glenda reappeared with Tim’s Merlot, two more men were being shown to their seats with their name cards. Glenda took their drink orders. Another man was led to the table by the hostess, and now, eleven men sat, drinking expensive drinks at what many considered the finest steakhouse in Seattle. Only one seat at the end of the table was still empty.

“Gentlemen, our host has asked us to gather your cell phones for safekeeping during the meeting,” Glenda announced. “Please turn them off before you hand them to me. They will be returned to you after the meeting is over.” Each man pulled their phone from their suit pocket and handed it to their server, who put them in a big bag.

“Hi, I’m Tim,” he said to a good-looking Black man about his age.

“Deshawn,” he answered as they shook hands.

“I’m Tom,” the man on Tim’s right offered, and they shook hands as well.

“This is crazy,” Tim said to both of them. “All my wife told me was that I had to attend this meeting tonight for two hours, eat whatever I wanted on the menu, drink fine wine or the drink of my choice, and I would get $2,500. And I didn’t even have to drive because an Uber would be my ride.”

“Me too!” Deshawn said. “I mean, what the hell is going on?”

“My wife told me the same thing,” Tom smiled as if he knew something more than the others. “My wife told me not to worry, that it’s all good, and also that I would know so much more about her after the evening was done.”

Deshawn and Tim both had a puzzled look on their faces, as if they had had the same unbelievable thought. Neither was willing to share their hunch. Deshawn turned to Tim and asked, “Can I ask you, what does your wife do for a living?”

Tim had a look of surprise on his face. No, he thought, this meeting couldn’t be related to THAT, could it?

Similar conversations were occurring among the other men as they continued to sip on their fine wines and spirits. A few minutes later, a tall, gray-haired man, impeccably dressed in a custom two-piece dark suit, a red power tie, and the finest English black leather shoes, walked in and stood at the empty seat at the end of the table. Instead of sitting, he remained standing, saying nothing until all of the talking stopped. Lennie nodded to Glenda, and she left, closing the door behind her. The men were all alone.

“Gentlemen, thank you for attending our gathering this evening. I am sure that you are confused, but that confusion will clear up in a few minutes. My name is Lennie. As you can see, all of you have your first name printed on your place card. We will only use first names this evening, for reasons you will soon figure out. I can tell by the look on some of your faces that you are starting to figure out what all of us have in common.” A couple of men slowly nodded, while others were still confused.

“Gentlemen, let me be Frank,” pausing for a second, then saying, “on second thought, I’ll be Lennie.” Then, chuckling that it still got some lighthearted response, he continued, “I always like that stupid joke.” Some of the men lightly laughed, and the others smiled. “No, I am actually Lennie, and after a lot of introspection, and against the advice of my girlfriend and most trusted person in my life, I decided to bring you all together.” The looks on the men’s faces were still confused; only Tommy had figured it out.

“You see, gentlemen, I can look each and every one of you in the eye and call your wife a prostitute because it is true, correct?” About half nodded, a few were stunned, and a couple of them had red faces. Lennie continued.

“Gentlemen, I know that the wife of every man here this evening is a whore. A whore that makes an incredible amount of money compared to any other whore. Not only that, but right now, each and every one of your wives is out with a man she has just met, or maybe one she had had dozens of times before, performing any sexual or non-sexual acts he wishes. She will be making a minimum of $2,500, the same as each of you. And do you know why I know that?”

Most men shook their heads or did nothing, but Tom was smiling and shaking his head in affirmation. Lennie noticed and immediately figured out why. His wife, Alexis, had told him most of it. Alexis told Tommy everything she did, and he not only approved but also worshiped her every night or morning when she returned from a date. Now he was meeting the man who ran the business that provided her the opportunity to bring home nearly a million dollars last year, changing both of their lives.

“Tommy, I see you are smiling, and I also know that your relationship with your wife is a unique one. Please, tell me why I know that every man’s wife is a prostitute.”

Tommy grinned as if he were in fifth grade and the teacher called on him.

“Because you’re their pimp!” he proudly exclaimed. A few men gasped; the others remained silent, staring at the gray-haired man who stood before them.

“Thank you, Tommy. Tommy is correct, gentlemen. I am the pimp to the finest stable of whores in the nation. Each one of your wives is in my stable, as are other beautiful women. They work for Samantha’s Escort Service. I took the service over a few months back. My girlfriend, Samantha, created it and has operated it quite successfully for years, I might add. Now, I know that you know that your wife is a prostitute, because you had to approve their working for the service.”

The men were silent. A few heads slowly nodded. Their wide eyes said a lot.

“However, until this evening, you have been left in the dark about most of the details regarding her job. And face it, this is a topic you can’t readily share with any of your friends. The only things you know are how much money she brings home to you and the name of her personal mentor, who guides her and helps her with the details of her profession. Yes, gentlemen, I said it was a profession because, while you don’t know it, each of your wives has been trained to be one of the finest courtesans on the planet. In the business, they provide what is called “The Girlfriend Experience,” which is the most sought-after service among men who regularly use prostitutes and have the means to afford it. Your women, rather my women, successfully entertain some of the richest and most demanding men in the world.”

Unsure of what to say, most of the men simply sat there. Tommy’s hunch was confirmed, and he was smiling at Lennie’s words.

“Until now, the opinion of those who ran SES was to keep the husband in the dark about any details about their wife’s profession. About six months ago, I met Samantha, the founder of the escort service that bears her name. She had a strong opinion NOT to tell any of you any more than necessary. Keep in mind, it wasn’t to hurt any of you; rather, she had come to that conclusion after years of experience dealing with so many men in this profession. She felt that providing you with the minimum of details would make the girls safer. You know the dates and times your wife would be meeting with a client or the net amount of money she was bringing home to your household. You didn’t ever know who she was meeting, or even where she would meet them, correct?”

The men were nodding, half of them not even realizing it.

“You see, gentlemen, Samantha willingly gave me not only control and ownership of the escort service but also all of her money and assets. She did that to show me her complete loyalty to me and our relationship. She had a purely female perspective on how to handle the service. She had experienced nearly everything that could possibly go wrong running her business. So, mostly to protect her business and the girls who work for her, she decided to keep their husbands in the dark about the details. She knew the husbands had to know when a wife went on a date for obvious reasons and also how much money they brought home after dating a client, again, for obvious reasons. Are you all with me so far?”