Chapter 10

It's been ten years since Patti opened Heads and Tails. For the most part they have been ten glorious years. For some time now Patti has decided that she would only wear one of her wigs when she was working or if we were going out in public. It was fine with me because I loved her exotic look. The only problem we had was when we had unexpected company; then it was a mad dash for the bedroom to "fix" her hair. When you have a successful cash business, you always have money in your pocket. This has led to some interesting dilemmas and some disagreements. As expected, I prepare the books for the shop. Patti usually makes a deposit once a week, so it's not uncommon for her to have several thousand dollars in cash by the end of the week.

"Patti, you can't keep so much cash in the register every night. You're just asking for someone to come in and rob you. Anyone walking by can see in the window; they can see what you have and where you hide it."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? I can't get to the bank until Friday after closing; I'm just too busy and it wouldn't be fair to ask one of the girls to go to the bank. First of all, they're busy too and for them it's money in their pocket. Secondly, as you said, it's dangerous I won't ask them to do something that I should be doing."

"The only other solution is for us to get a safe. You can keep enough cash in the register to make change and put the rest in the safe each night."

We went out that weekend and bought a small safe. Between the two of us we were able to carry it up the front stairs and place it in the lunch nook under the coffee station next to the small refrigerator. One problem solved.

The next problem was an ego thing and it was really my problem. I was working my way up the corporate ladder at the firm. I started as a junior account; then through a series of promotions I went from semi-senior, to senior accountant, to a manager. Each year I got a raise; but the field in general is underpaid, mostly because your billing rate is a multiple of your pay rate. Clients are always complaining about their bills so the partners are always trying to minimize their costs, so they have a little wiggle room when billing.

My problem was that Patti was making a lot more than I was. Not that I was complaining, the extra income was great. It was just that my paycheck always was direct-deposited into our checking account and used to pay our bills. I always had to ask Patti for cash whenever we went out, or so I wasn't carrying around an empty wallet. Patti never complained or hesitated, but it just irritated me. I always felt like I was begging. After all, I was the man of the house, wasn't I supposed to be the bread-winner?

One night while we were getting ready for bed, I told her how I felt. That was a big mistake.

"Bill you're being ridiculous. This is a partnership; we each contribute to its success. I could never have done this alone. We have so much to be thankful for. We're young, healthy, we have more than enough money to pay for anything we want or need. Who cares from which of us the money comes?"

"But I'm the man of the house and I..."

"Don't you say anything more; I don't want to hear it. There is no 'boss' in this house, but if you want there to be a boss, then there will be."

Before I could tell her that that was not what I meant, she picked me up off my feet and tossed me onto the bed. I could see the fire in her eyes as her Irish temper got the best of her. She jumped onto the bed and in one fluid motion ripped my underwear off my body. I had never seen her so angry and was too scared to speak.

"I was planning on seducing you tonight, but now I'm just going to take it from you. Try and stop me if you think you can," she shouted as she pulled her nightie over her head revealing her naked body.

Her muscles bulged as she grabbed my hands and slammed them high over my head against the mattress.

"Please, Patti; don't do this. That's not what I meant."

But she wasn't listening at all. She seemed to be in her own little dream world, and for me it was turning into a nightmare. I felt her sliding her body up and down my cock, which seemed to have a mind of its own. I strained to free my hands, to get away, even as I felt the blood pulsing into my growing erection. But it was no use. She was far too strong.

When she sensed that she had me rock hard, she took my wrists in one hand and, with the other, guided it in, plunging down until she had it all. Patti bounced up and down savagely; the squeaking of the bed springs and the slapping of our bodies filled the room. There was no other way to put it; I was being raped ... and surprisingly, I was beginning to enjoy it.

It must have gone on for twenty minutes or more. I tried to hold off as long as could, and then suddenly it stopped. I looked up into her tear-filled green eyes and realized that for the only time in our life together, she couldn't cum.

"Oh God, Bill; what have I done? What have I done? I'm so sorry; are you okay? Please forgive me; please I'll do anything. Don't leave me, please don't leave me."

I should have been mad; I should have pushed her off me and left. But all I could feel for her was compassion; she was hurting far worse than I was. I pulled her head towards my shoulder and she buried her face on my chest and sobbed uncontrollably.

"It's okay; it's okay. I'm not mad. Let it out."

I held her tight and after a while I tried to explain what I had meant.

When I was finished she sobbed, "Oh Bill, I misunderstood. I thought you were trying to control me; I thought you had changed and I just lost it. I promise to never do anything like that again. I swear."

Trying to lighten the mood a little I said, "I don't know; I was just beginning to enjoy it. Just promise me that you will never do it in anger."

Rolling over and taking me with her, she wrapped her arms around me, hugged me and said, "I promise."

Then we both shut our eyes and fell asleep.

Several months later, I was in the office reviewing a financial statement that one of the juniors had prepared for one of my clients. After reviewing the statements, I called him into my office and pointed out several mistakes he had made. They were typical mistakes that we all made when we first started. Afterwards, in order to get to know him a little better, I asked him some personal questions one of which was where he lived.

"I've lived in New Lenox all my life. I live with my parents on Third Street."

"No kidding, I live a couple of blocks from there; on New Lenox Avenue."

"Really; I get my hair cut at Heads or Tails."

Before I could say anything he continued, "You should see the babes that work there, they're all hot. Especially the one that cuts my hair, she's the owner, Patti."

I quickly intervened before he could say anything that could have gotten him in any deeper.

"Oh you mean her?" I said turning the picture of Patti and I on our wedding day that I kept on my desk.

I watched him study the picture, look up at me and then back at the picture and then turn scarlet.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, she's your wife? I'm so sorry; I didn't mean anything by it."

I laughed and told him to relax, I wasn't offended at all and that he should just forget about it. As he was leaving he turned to me and said, "You're a lucky man."

"Don't I know it."

That night I told Patti about the incident and we had a good laugh.

"See I told you; sex sells."

A couple of years ago, I tried to convince her that maybe it was time for us to move.

"We can buy some land and build a brand new house. We can design it ourselves; we can incorporate everything you ever wanted into the design."