Chapter 2

She wasn't there when I returned a little after four. On the desk in the parlor near the phone was a note for me on a hotel memo pad on which she had written: "Honey, gone shopping, see you soon. Luv Stace." Next to the note was Tyrone's card. It was laying on a sheet of the hotel's engraved stationery on which she had made some kind of list. 1. He wants me to! 2. So do I! 3. Out of town! 4. Strangers! 5. Do it all! 6. Condoms! 7. Tyrone, six p.m.??? It wasn't difficult to know what must have been going through her mind as she wrote it. My heart skipped a beat!

A few minutes later, the phone rang. I answered it and the familiar deep voice said, "Hey man is Stacy there?"

"No, Tyrone she left a note saying she had gone shopping."

"Wow, that's great! I guess she's buying things fer tonight, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I just got in and I haven't seen Stacy since this morning."

"Oh, well, she said ya were cool with it."

"Stacy can do anything she wants," I said.

"Ya know, when I saw your lady on the street, I thought to myself 'now there's a purty lady that's really ripe.' I guess I was right, huh? Anyway, when she called me, we talked a while and I tol er bout t'night. I tol er to pick up a couple things. I guess that's what she's doin man."

"What did you tell her to buy?" I asked him.

"I tol er to get a sexy, little black dress, black heels and perfume and nothing else, if ya get my drift," he said laughingly. "I think I musta freaked-er out with all my hot talk because she said she had to go but to call bout five. I'm sorry man, I guess I was impatient and called too soon." I had heard enough, like Stacy had earlier, I said, "Call back later Tyrone." I had barely hung up when Stacy returned carrying packages. Without beating around the bush, I said "Tyrone called."

"Oh really, what did he say?" she asked casually.

"Quiet a lot actually," I said.

Stacy sat down on the couch and said, "I don't know what to do? Impulsively, this morning I kept thinking about your fantasy, the movie and Tyrone. I kept looking at his card and decided that it couldn't hurt just to call him, so I did. You wouldn't believe the things he said to me. He wants me to go to a place that he has in Harlem, I guess it's a brothel or a whorehouse or something like that. Tyrone said blacks go there who want white pussy."

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"Part of me, a part that I didn't know existed until now, really wants to go, the other part of me thinks that it's the dumbest, riskiest idea I've ever had." I decided to move the conversation in a slightly different direction and asked, "what did you buy when you were shopping?" I wasn't surprised when she took a tiny sexy black dress out of a bag, a new patent leather evening bag and from a shoe box a matching pair of black, spike high heels. After catching my breath, I enthusiastically approved of her purchases and said, "Honey, I think it would be a shame to waste these. On you, that dress and those shoes could give a statue a hard-on. I can't even imagine what they will do to horny black men. You better hurry and get ready, it's nearly five." After she undressed, Stacy asked, "can you help me with something honey?"

"Sure what do you need?"

"Oh, this is awkward," she said as she handed me a tube of scented bikin-line depilatory. "What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked.

"Tyrone said that guys like just a little tuft of pubic hair. Is that true?"

"I guess so," I said. And, oh this is sooo embarrassing, he said they love bare lips."

With that, Stacy laid down on the bed and I applied the scented cream to the top and sides of the triangle of dark pubic hair that covered her mound. She then raised and parted her knees. I rubbed cream to her nether-lips covering the sparse, thin hair with a thick coat. Five minutes later I gently removed it with a warm washcloth leaving just a small patch of curly dark hair above her slit. Stacy sighed, her lips were as smooth and bare as a baby's. When I finished, I looked closely at the moist, pink flesh that had given me so much pleasure over the years and I realized that, most likely, the next time that I looked this closely, the inner dew-covered petals would have surrounded and lovingly caressed the cocks of other men. How many I couldn't guess.

Stacy was running the tub when the phone rang at exactly five. We both knew who was calling so, still naked, she padded back into the bedroom and answered it. "Hello... Hi Tyrone... I guess so... Yes, I did... Uh huh..." Then she turned crimson red her entire body seemed flushed and she seemed to have difficulty breathing. "Yes... Probably... Uh, last night... Yes... Yes... Average I suppose..." She closed her eyes and touched the little mound of hair... I'll try... Me too... He's right here... Okay,"

"He wants to talk to you," she said as she handed me the phone, returned to the bathroom and climbed into the steamy tub.

"Don't worry about a thing man, she won't hav ta do nothin she don wanna. I'll take real good care of er and have er back sometime bout four, maybe later. Fuck man, I just can't wait!" I was shaking as I hung up the phone. It was just two nights ago that I had shared my secret fantasy with Stacy. Now, my beautiful wife of twenty years, the mother of my children was preparing to spend the night with a black pimp and his clients in a Harlem whorehouse. Yet, I was incredibly excited by her boldness and willingness to participate in this forbidden adventure. We didn't talk very much as she bathed and carefully shaved her legs and underarms. I watched closely as she applied a fresh, glossy coat of red polish to her fingernails and toenails. This night, she took extra care and spent extra time with her make-up, mascara, lipstick and curling and brushing her long thick hair. Over her nakedness, she slipped the tiny black silk dress that was nothing more than a revealing short slip. I was thrilled as she boldly stared at me, hiked-up the short skirt and daringly sprayed perfume on her pussy. She stepped into her high heels, looked in the full length mirror and said, "God, I look like a hooker!" To me, however, the sight before my eyes was beyond description. Stunning, beautiful, desirable and sexy were inadequate words.

I walked with her to the door and asked, "Do you want me to go down with you?"

"No, stay here and wait for me. I want to do this alone."

"Are you sure about this?" I asked giving her a final opportunity to back-out.

"No, I'm not, but I'm going anyway. I know that if I don't walk out that door right now, I never will. This is for you. But, it's also for me. Wish me luck." With that she took her small black patent leather purse that contained her compact, lipstick, hair brush and a small vial of her new perfume.