Chapter 2

As Gordon Barton aimed the silver Mercedes 500 S north along the lake shore, he thought that he should be the happiest man on earth. He was a partner in a prestigious law-firm. He loved his work.

Megan, his daughter, was the apple of his eye. She was smart as a whip. Everything should have been perfect, but it wasn't perfect. He was very worried about his wife. He had been worried about her for years. He wasn't at all proud of one aspect, an intimate side, of his personal life.

God, how he loved her. But their relationship had evolved into one that was much more like a brother sister relationship than a husband wife relationship. It had been more than a month since they had made hasty love one morning before the sun came up. They both knew that his desire for her, or anything did not cause his morning erections that she had done to cause it because of her desire for him, but by the pressure from his bladder. Now, it would have been impossible for her to place her legs over his shoulders and pound up against him. Yet that was the way it had been for them for several years, a dramatic reduction not only in frequency but also the intensity of their love making. Her weight and the nightgowns she wore were like layers of armor and a real turn-off for him. Nonetheless, he deeply cared for her. He had almost resigned himself to a relationship that was becoming only platonic. They did cuddle in the big king-size bed but that was about it except for the infrequent, furtive morning couplings.

They had planned on a sister or a brother for Megan but it was not to be. They tried and tried by Barbara didn't get pregnant.

Finally, a fertility specialist ran several tests and reported that he produced enough potent sperm to create an army but, because of scarring, Barbara would never create and bear another child. He really believed that there might be a correlation between her weight gain, disinterest in her appearance, the waning of her libido and the early end of her child bearing years.

Half his partners had solved similar problems in a way that was distasteful to him. They had married second wives, trophy wives.

Though the firm had a policy against it, most of their trophy wives had been young associates, para-legals, receptionists or assistants at the firm or someone that they had met from the client side. He wasn't blind or dead and found himself surrounded every day by beautiful, sexy, bright women. Women whom he knew found him attractive and let it be known, oh so subtly, that they were available and would welcome an advance from him. The availability was tempting and sure wasn't easy to resist but he had never strayed. Well, he had never strayed in Chicago.

His practice, securities law, required that he travel to New York City several times a year. After the day's work was completed, more often than not, he found himself alone with nothing to do and he really hated being alone. Hell, he was only in his forties. He didn't want the life of a seventy-year-old until he was a seventy-year-old, or maybe even an eighty-year-old.

Gordon had no idea what possessed him to do it but, for some reason, one night nearly a year ago when he was in New York, he was restless and wandered into a topless bar near his hotel. He felt out of place.

He took a seat in the shadows against a wall as far from the stage as possible. What he saw excited him in a way that he hadn't been excited since the old Barbara was absorbed into the enlarged body of the asexual new Barbara. Two young, very beautiful dancers on the stage. They weren't just topless, as he expected them to be, they were bottomless as well. They were smiling at the men who were leering up at them and tossing dollar bills on the wooden stage.

They brazenly rubbed their breasts and tweaked their swollen nipples.

Then, they would crouch down and spread their legs giving those men seated around the stage a bird's eye, gynecological view of their trimmed vaginas.