I knew the female's voice. I was absolutely certain. But somehow I could not believe what my ears told me. Only four words had been spoken.

'Here is four hundred," she had said.

But that was enough to tell me who spoke the words. What was my wife doing here? She was supposed to be at a hen party tonight and this was not a hen party. This was the Grand Hotel where most of the conventions took place.

The man's voice I was not familiar with, it was new to me. I had never heard it before. His voice was low and had a pleasant ring to it when he answered her.

"I have a real nice elderly gentleman on my list for you, and then we'll take a break and drive around the park for a while before we go back to work."

Did this mean that he was her pimp?

The clicking of heels told me that she was leaving and I ventured a peek through the bushes that circled the porch. I could just get a glimpse of a shapely ass wiggling in a blue mini skirt. She was returning to the convention hall. The male voice I had heard belonged to a tall, wide shouldered man who was slowly making his way to the bar.

I was stunned. I just stood rooted to my spot for a few minutes. But then I decided to try and find a place from where I could observe the convention hall and not be seen easily. The bar was definitely the best spot for my purpose.

Luck was with me that night. There was a free stool next to the stranger whose voice I had heard and it was perfect. From my vantage point I was able to see most of the convention hall. And as I scanned the bustling hall I spied a couple standing at the elevators, a well dressed gentleman and a petite, black haired girl in a blue mini skirt. His left hand reached out to press an elevator button while his right arm snaked around the female's waist. I strained to see more but the elevator door opened and the couple walked in.

As I eased myself onto the stool I accidentally brushed against the stranger's arm, causing him to spill a few drops of his drink.

"That was clumsy of me," I apologized. "I am sorry."

He waved me off with a warm grin and a laughed.

"Don't mention. I am known to be klutzy at times. I might spill several drops of yours if you keep sitting next to me for a while." And with this we were no strangers any longer.

His name was George he told me, and I introduced myself as Karl, which is my middle name. I certainly did not want to give out my real name until I knew where all this was leading to.

We exchanged the usual pleasantries to see if there was interest enough to continue talking to each other. He seemed to be intrigued by my accent.

"I think I detect a European accent. Karl. Is that right?"

"I am from Sweden", I lied.

"So I was right, you are from the Old Continent," he laughed and then shifted the conversation.

"Looking for some 'action'? "he asked me. "If so, there is just the right girl here and I would love to introduce you to her. She is from Germany, so you have something in common.

She is one hell of a girl. Almost petite, beautiful, shiny black hair, and eyes that can burn a hole in you if you let her. But not cheap," he laughed.

"That sounds great," I answered. "I have another fifteen minutes left before I have to run to be in time to meet an important client at the airport."

The leaving was the truth, the rest was not. I wanted to be gone when my wife returned from her meeting. And fifteen minutes sounded safe enough.

"That's too bad", he informed me as he handed me his business card. "She is with a customer right now and you will be gone before she comes back down."

He then told me a little nit about Jessica. That she was the top girl working for him. That she was a real lady. That she was endowed with a fantastic body and face, and with a warm and pleasant personality. She had some kind of aura that made you love her the moment you meet her. There was more praise of Jessica but I had to cut the description of her short if I wanted to be gone by the time she returned.

I put my tip next to my empty glass, and George and I shook hands.

"Hope to meet you again," were his parting words and I told him that I was looking forward to meet him again. He had the kind of personality that appealed to me, warm, considerate, full of happiness and good spirits.

The meeting with my client went well and it was late when I arrived home. Sitting in my favorite arm chair in our living room I thought about the evening's discovery at the Grand Hotel. Was my wife blackmailed? Was she on a whim just playing out a fantasy of hers? Was she acting on an 'I dare you' challenge? Did she lose a bet at one of her Saturday hen parties? I was utterly perplexed.

How could what I had heard tonight be true? Liolani and I were deeply in love with each other. Among our friends we were called 'The Lovebirds', 'The Honeymooners', and similar names. I decided that the best way to discover the truth was through George.

I was awake in bed when Liolani came home about 2 AM.. I had expected to see some eye make-op, but there was no trace of it, she must have cleaned her face somewhere. She also had changed from the blue mini skirt in which I had seen her to the slinky black dress she had worn when she had left for her 'hen party'. Coming out of her shower she was surprised and delighted to find me awake.

My wife and I had met in Hawaii where I had been sent to supervise the installation of a new system. It was love on first sight. I proposed and six months later we were husband and wife. I took her back with me to Germany as soon as the papers had made it through the proper channels. Her blood truly was a mixture, a mixture of Chinese, some Hawaiian, some Portuguese, and some Dutch. Her dark eyes had a slight almond shape, a hint of the oriental, in short, she was an exotic beauty turning heads wherever we went.

She also was always ready for sex, but even more so after her twice monthly 'hen parties'. Tonight she walked to the foot of the bed and just stood there smiling at me. Then she slowly raised her arms above her head. It did wonders for her assets.

I noticed with delight that her aureoles were much darker than usual and that her nipples looked hard and enlarged. There was no question, she was turned on. Her eyes almost smoldered as she looked at me.

She licked her lips, making them glisten and then parted them slightly. I almost heard them screaming for me.

Which did she have in store for me tonight? A Beethoven Symphony. Or a Light Cavalry Overture? A Wagnerian Ride of the Valkyries, or a Strauss Waltz? Or maybe a new creative surprise? Whatever, hers were always masterful performances.

At breakfast the next morning she apologized for coming home later than usual.

"When you have fun and enjoy yourself, you don't pay attention to time," was her explanation.

I am a patient man and had no trouble biding my time. I waited two weeks before I called George and invited him for a drink at my favorite bar. The ladies present ogled him, some furtively, some openly. Even I could feel the magnetism he exuded. It was powerful, the promise of sex, a mixture of both tenderness and of stern demands.

This time I could study him at leisure and I liked what I saw. I knew instinctively that I had found a true friend. And the future proved me right.

He told me about growing up in a black ghetto as a mixed child that did not belong to either black or white. An outcast among his black neighbors, an unaccepted person among the whites at school. He reminded me of Gen. Powell. His face was only slightly tinged with some black features, and his skin color was just a shade off a Caucasian. A white skin that was a little darker than usual, maybe tanned by too much sun.

I had to assume that he would tell Jessica about the fellow from Europe he had met. So I changed my date of arrival in the US by several years. And I told him that I sometimes missed my home town, Stockholm.

As we talked, the subject eventually and predictably moved to his 'girl', Jessica. She was married to a wonderful husband whom she adored and who loved her with all his heart. George obviously admired Jessica and cared for her. And from several remarks he made it became clear that she cared for him. No, he stated firmly, it was not love but attraction of a different and indefinable kind.

We both had enjoyed each others company and we decided to get together every two to three weeks. What started out as a fishing trip for information about my wife had turned into a nice friendship with her pimp. I began to wonder how he would react when he found out that Jessica was actually my wife Liolani.

At our next meeting I asked George outright how he recruited his girls. All three were married he had already told me, - married girls don't tell, he had added. As far as recruiting goes he was willing to share with me how Jessica had joined his crew. His announcement dumped several buckets of adrenaline into my blood and I almost started shaking with anticipation. This was what I wanted to know more than anything, - how did all this start.

"I was driving home from a luncheon with friends," recounted George, "when I saw a young lady opening the hood of her car, which was obviously disabled. I stopped to see if I could help. But I am not a mechanic and was as helpless as she. When I offered to give her a ride home, she gratefully accepted. She asked me to stop at a little park on Windsor Ave, one block from her home. As she thanked me for the ride, I gave her my business card and told her that I could probably help her if she ever needed some money.

I did not expect to ever hear from her but a week later she called me to arrange a meeting. Her car was repaired and if I would give her my address she would see me in one hour. She arrived on time, looking absolutely stunning. Much later I found out that she always looked the perfect lady, dressed elegantly, whenever she left the house, even if she only went shopping. Jessica is a proud lady, and rightfully so.

We made small talk for a while. I told her where I grew up; she told me that she and her husband came to the US in 1952. She said she was 36 and then proved it when I absolutely refused to believe her. Honestly, she looks like 26, and her vivaciousness also made her appear much less than 36.

After two glasses of wine I showed her the backyard with the pool I had just filled the week before. Then I took her through the house. We stopped in my bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed. I started to explain the duties and the income if she wanted to join me, but I never dreamed that she would eventually become one of my girls.

The longer we talked the more fidgety she became, crossing and uncrossing her legs over and over. I also noticed that her breathing was getting a bit labored; and when I put my arm around her she practically melted into me. Just thinking about our next hour or two makes my breathing quicken. It was not a plain romp in the bed; this lady turned loving into an art form.

She explained how she and her husband viewed prostitution. That a call girl was dispensing happiness and should be compensated like everyone else, such as masseuses, or bartenders, etc. That she and her husband felt as Robert Heinlein, who wrote in one of his books that 'there are more honest prostitutes than honest lawyers'.

But she turned down my invitation. We had one more glass of wine and she was gone, leaving behind the memory of a goodbye kiss that could have melted Gibraltar.

She phoned me again a week later to ask if she could come and visit. We again made small talk, and then she dropped a bomb shell. She was willing to join if I would agree to a number of rules she had drawn up. How could I refuse? I went over some of my rules and she agreed to them. When I told her that a prostitute mist always make herself available to her pimp she agreed by saying 'absolutely'. That was about five months ago and she has bloomed into the very top call girl, probably of the entire State. Now you know how Jessica came to work for me."

I promised George that I would call him when I could get another afternoon off so we could meet again for a drink.

A month later I finally could get together with George again at my favorite little bar. We bitched a bit about the problems we had, I talked of mine and he grumbled about his. We told some jokes, discussed and cussed our favorite football team, and generally had a good time.

"One more problem," he suddenly burst out. "And it's a big one. You see, I have really taken to Jessica. Not real love, like getting married or so, I can't really explain it. Not long ago we met some friends at a grocery store and I proudly introduced her as my girl friend. Later I apologized to her and guess what, she said. 'I loved it, I like being your girl friend,' she had told me.

But that's not the problem, Karl. I have won an all-expense paid tour for two to Germany for this fall, about six weeks from now. I so much would love to take Jessica with me, but how do you tell a devoted husband like hers. Just not possible. She would love to go, but she is a girl that absolutely cannot lie even if her life depended on it. So a lie like going with a girl friend is out.

Now she is considering asking him outright. That will bring up questions like who is George etc. And since she will not lie…. well you figure yourself. You can see the mess this could create. We just don't know. You are the only person I told this to because I trust that it will not go further."

I agreed with him and promised him to let him know if I could think of a solution. We shook hands and I left him sitting alone in his booth with his drink. Suddenly I remembered a story about Alexander the Great cutting the intricate knot of King Gordius with one sword stroke. Aha, I said to myself, that is what we need, a swift sword strike.

A week later I had to run home to get some papers I had worked on the night before and then had forgotten to take them with me this morning. Liolani was not home but I did not write her a note, which I usually do. I was in a hurry to get back to the office. I was just getting ready to leave when the phone rang, but I decided to let the call go to the recorder.

I recognized George's voice at once and stopped to listen. He left a cryptic message. 'Tomorrow 2:30 Toro twelve, mini." It took me two minutes to understand that my wife had an assignment at 2:30 tomorrow at the El Toro Motel, room 12, wearing a mini skirt.

That afternoon I bought a black mini skirt, which I gave her after dinner. I had for some time asked her to wear one at home, together with a pair of heels. That would display her beautiful long legs I had reasoned. Humor me for once and wear a miniskirt tomorrow night I pleaded with her and she promised she would do that.

The next day was her assignment and I had to see this event. At 2:10 I was in place in a car I had borrowed from a co-worker. I had my surveillance spot chosen with great care. Liolani-Jessica rolled in at 2:25, parked her car, went to room 12 and just walked in.

She wore a blue mini skirt, a white tank top ,and blackheels. She looked somewhat slutty, so completely out of character for her. Her customer probably had made that request, and the customer is always right. The door to room twelve was unlocked when Jessica arrived and I found out later that George had a long tem contract for that room.

Her customer arrived not long after. Then, at 3;00George arrived but stayed in his car.

I had seen enough and went back to work undetected. It was time to cut the Gordian knot, and tonight would be the time I decided. And I was not getting her off the hook without some teasing.

When I came home Liolani greeted me with her usual enthusiasm and a kiss hotter than a green Habanera chili. She was indeed wearing the black mini I had given her. She looked so sexy.

"Sweetheart, thanks for wearing my miniskirt, you look so lovable and sexy in it. No wonder you are so much in demand," I teased her.

She gave me a quizzical look and said: "what do you mean by that?"

"Well, you are in demand, aren't you?" I answered. "Wherever you go and whatever you are told to do, you do it with perfection. Your cookies are the best and you are famous for your egg rolls. Whatever you do, you do it to please, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

This brought me another quizzical sidewise glance. But I had more to say.

"I hope you had a wonderful, fulfilling day, honey. Come to think of it, I like that word fulfilling; it implies being filled full with pleasure. Housewives at least have the opportunity to follow their whim, while we poor guys have to work to bring home the bacon. But I for my part I don't mind."

"I have to wash my hands. Be right back," she mumbled. There was definitely a note of discomfort in her voice.

When she came back I took her in my arms and hugged her. I stepped back and admired her again and asked her to turn around slowly. She had regained her composure but she deserved one more discomfort or worse. It was time to drop the bomb.

"Love, I will long remember tonight, you are just so appetizing. But you really did not have to change, you could have kept your blue skirt on, it looks even better on you than the black I bought you."

Her pupils dilated and I grabbed her and almost had to drag her to the couch. There was no resistance. I put her in my lap, hugged her and told her that everything was OK. Then I kissed her and slowly she started to respond.

Soon she was composed again and in control of herself.

"How long have you known, how much do you know, how did you find out?" she asked.

I kissed her again and told her about the night at the Grand Hotel. That brought a muffled, "oh my god, then you know George."

I nodded and comforted her by stroking her hair and hugging her more strongly.

No problem here," I assured her. "George and I have become very good friends. But he doesn't know yet that I am your husband and that fact should be good for a little fun with him. I suggest you call him tomorrow and talk him into taking you out for dinner.

In the meantime there should not be any change in our life. Let everything be as it was before today. Don't make any changes.

Just remember what I had told the fellow from the LDA. That prostitution is just a trade of sexual favors for something of value, such as fame, or money, or advancement etc. It should be recognized as legal barter. Many wives trade sex for concessions from their husbands.

Remember what else I told the poor guy. That the problem of today's society is that sex and love are considered the same. There is plenty of love without sex, and lots of sex without love. And remember that I old him that a woman should not be considered property of the male. She should have a life of her own and pursue any avenue of her liking without the husband getting in the way as long as it does not hurt their union.

If you had remembered, you would have known how I would feel about you working as a call girl. In fat, I admire you for taking a step towards liberation regardless of Mrs. Grundy's opinion.

Now to your problem of a three week vacation with George. You and I will be together for a lifetime, you will have George for a limited time only. I want to see you happy because that makes me happy and since I know that you would love to go to Germany with your boy friend I suggest you do so. Enjoy Germany and enjoy each other."

Liolani did not utter a sound; she just looked at me in disbelief. She must have stared at me with her mouth half open, for more than 15 seconds. Then came the reaction. Tears were streaming down her cheeks for most of a minute. She was shaking and mumbling love words while holding on to me with a death grip, almost as if she wanted to crawl under my skin.

Eventually her eyes cleared and her look changed. Now there was so much love in her eyes that it almost brought tears to mine. I moved her off my lap so I could straighten and then picked her up and cradled her in my arms and carried her to our bedroom. The emotional uproar had taken its toll. She was limp as a doll as I placed her on the bed after I helped her getting undressed.

We must have fallen asleep at once, exhausted, because the bed covers were still in a heap on the floor beside the bed when I woke in the morning..

I tiptoed to the kitchen to start our morning coffee. As I was setting the table for breakfast a lithe warm body molded itself to mine and then a rain of hot wet kisses showered my back.

I decided to take the day off and phoned the office to tell them I wouldn't come in today. Then Liolani called George and after some small talk told him that it was time he took his girl friend out again for a nice intimate dinner. He obviously was in a good mood because he playfully apologized for having been so inattentive that his girl friend had to remind him of his duty. He called Jessica back after a while and told her that he had made reservations for Friday evening at seven at the exclusive Robin's Nest. I made some sincere compliment to Jessica. She looked absolutely stunning in her new evening gown. There was a palpable aura of happiness about her. I was so proud of my wife.

I immediately also called the Robin's Nest and made a reservation for one for Friday at 6:30. The trap had been set.

Friday evening I was seated at a table in clear view of the door waiting for Jessica and George. My double vodka martini on the rocks, complete with three olives, kept me entertained while I waited. Liolani is a stickler about being punctual and I hoped Jessica was too. I was not disappointed, they arrived on time.

I had seated myself facing away from the door. I heard the maitre d' tell them that a beautiful couple like they deserved a special table while he steered them to the spot I had asked him to place that couple. My ten dollars paid off. They seated themselves and less than 30 seconds later George saw me.

He came over to my table immediately to inform me, not ask me, he stressed, that I was to join him for dinner. At his table he introduced me to his girl friend Jessica,

"This is my friend Karl who I have been telling you about. I have tried for four months without success to have you meet him, and here we run into him. This time he can't back out."

After the waiter had brought our first round of drinks Jessica turned to George.

"It is time to celebrate," she announced with a pixyish grin.

George looked at her, his face a big question mark.

She did not elaborate; she turned to me instead.

"Did George tell you anything about what was going on in his personal life? How much did he tell you about us? Did he tell you that I am a married woman?"

Jessica was enjoying herself, dragging out the suspense. But at last she couldn't hold back the news any longer.

"We are going to Europe," she blurted out. "I talked to my husband and he said it was a wonderful idea, and that I should enjoy the trip and we should enjoy each other."

George was stunned. Then he reached out to take her hand and held it for a long time. No one spoke, it was a silence of happiness and I participated. When he finally spoke it was in a quiet contemplative voice, more to himself than to her. "I wonder, could I ever have a chance to meet your husband?" And after a long pause added, "NO, I don't think I could meet him, I would be much too self conscious." He paused again for many moments'

"But tell me," he asked Jessica "Did he really say 'enjoy each other'? That is the most altruistic gesture I can think of. I wonder what moved him to say that."

"Just ask him, he will tell you. Just open your mouth and say, what moved you to say enjoy each other."

"Oh no, my dear girl, I couldn't do that."

"Sure you can. Just turn your head and ask him. He will tell you."

He turned to me, then back to my wife, then back to me again.

"Karl, are you rascal really Jessica's husband?" he finally stammered.

I nodded.

After a short moment George came back to reality and started laughing with a roar.

"Let's continue this charade as a private celebration at my place where all this started." He gave me a crushing bear hug and topped it off with a peck on my cheek.

After dinner we drove to George's home. George and Jessica at once went after the wine and some glasses. Then George, with Jessica trailing behind, showed me his home, winding up in the spacious master bed room.

Back in the living room we moved three armchairs to form a triangle. Before sitting down I raised my glass to propose a toast.

"To Friendship," I proposed.

"To Women's Liberation," added Jessica/Liolani.

"To Tolerance," finished George.

I did not see them off at the airport when they left for Germany, but I wanted to be there when they returned.

I had intended to surprise them as they left he plane. But then I changed my mind and waited instead at the cafeteria, sharing my table with an elderly couple. When George and Jessica finally appeared, I noticed the lady tapping her husband's arm and pointing at them.

What they saw was a tall man and a young woman holding hands as they leisurely walked to the baggage claim area. Many eyes followed them, which was understandable. George was tall and wide shouldered, about 45 years old.

The young woman at his side could almost, but not quite, be called petite. She was slim and had the proud bearing of a beauty who is used to admiring glances wherever she went. And a most striking beauty she was, her glossy black hair framing an exotic face with a perpetual slight smile. Her coal black eyes had a trace of almond shape and always seemed to be twinkling in amusement. As the couple was walking past he turned to her, bent his head to bring his lips close to her ear, and whispered something into her ear. Much later Liolani would tell me what he had whispered. "I don't know how I can ever thank you two people enough. You two have filled me with joy and happiness as I did never believe existed." Oblivious to the crowd milling around them they embraced and kissed, still holding on to each other a few more seconds after they broke their kiss. The older couple at my table watched with a knowing smile. After George released his companion, the wife turned to her husband to remark that this must surely be a couple on their honeymoon, in love to the gills. She was wrong on all counts and would have been appalled and shocked to the core had she known the truth. They were not married, they were not on their honeymoon ,and they were not in love with each other, although they did love each other. The emotions ran high as we three met at the baggage claim carousel. Liolani hugged me and kissed me with an intensity I had never encountered before. George gave me a bear hug and a peck on my cheek. Jessica and George could hardly contain themselves to share their experiences with me, who in turn could hardly wait to hear about their 'vacation'. A welcome home dinner was waiting at my home and two chilled bottles of Moselle Spaetlese magically appeared. It was Samantha, George's nineteen-year old niece who surprised us with Beef Stroganoff, boiled parsley potatoes, cauliflower in a white cream sauce, plus some Chinese lichees for dessert. Samantha was immensely proud of herself, and rightfully so, that everything had come together perfectly.

Her Beef Stroganoff was excellent. It was her first Stroganoff and I was impressed again by this young lady. Even her choice of wine impressed me. She obviously had listened when we had talked about wines in general and German wines in particular. The four of us retired to the living room after dinner for a glass of after dinner Tawny Port. It was story telling time. Liolani, ever the bubbly conversationalist raced to the front of the conversation with the usual preliminaries, then stopped abruptly and urged George forward, claiming that it was his story, and therefore his to tell. He rendered a day by day account, starting with day one. "That evening we were absolutely bushed. We fell into bed utterly exhausted, we slept like logs," he claimed. This was a huge understatement. Sure it was true that they were exhausted, and also true that they fell into bed, and also true that they slept like logs. But knowing my wife, and knowing George, and knowing how they related to each other, my mind had no trouble filling in the blanks between 'fell into bed' and 'slept like logs'. My little excursion did not last long, I met up with the two travelers again as George was telling about visiting the Heidelberg castle, about the old Nepomuk bridge, and the cute little cast monkey at the south end of it. No one had noticed my absence and I again listened to the wonders George had seen. The old church in Craiglingen with the huge intricate altar carvings by Hermann Riemenschneider was one of the highlights, he would never have seen were it not for his knowledgeable guide Jessica. "Hold everything," George suddenly shouted and pointed at me. "I have a surprise for you fellow. But you will have to wait a little bit before it gets here. Comes all the way from Germany.

Actually, I might as well tell you what it is. On our drive through the Black Forest we had stopped to watch wood carvers carving those fabulous Black Forest Cuckoo clocks. One especially beautiful clock struck my fancy and I bought it for you."

Liolani interrupted him to tell what happened then.

'George told the owner of the shop that this is a gift for a very special friend to whom he owes more than he will ever know. And he is right. And that includes me, too."

I think I saw him blush a little. At any rate he turned his face away a moment before he continued.

"This was just the tip of the iceberg," were George's closing words. "Let's leave some for later. Now we want to know how the poor lonely deserted husband survived." Then he added, "at least you got your house cleaned once a week. I am sure you had a wonderful time trying to figure out who stole into your house every Thursday. Well, I will give you the answer to that riddle. It was my niece Samantha. My Sis came up with the idea to have Samantha do that on the sly every Thursday afternoon while you were at work. And Jessica was part of the conspiracy; she had the extra house key made for Samantha. All of us enjoyed putting one over on you. Sure had you puzzling, I bet, didn't we?" he asked with a chuckle. "Yes, that was a great idea giving me a loneliness puzzle,"" I answered truthfully." He didn't catch that I never said I did not find out. Liolani's eyes, however, had lit up like a Christmas tree. She had understood my answer and quickly glanced at Samantha to see her reaction. What my wife saw was only a tiny hint of a smile. It was enough for her to know what had happened. Liolani and George fell into a discussion about something I did not catch because my mind had drifted back to the first Thursday after their departure. I was to leave at four the next morning for a meeting at one of our outlying branches and so I took most of the afternoon off. That's when I surprised Samantha. She was vacuuming and did not hear me coming in. I stood still just inside the door so as not to scare whoever was cleaning. But when she turned and saw me standing at the door she let out a little shriek. But she had seen pictures of me and recognized my face at once. "Hi, I am Samantha," she greeted me. "I am George's niece. Could I serve you some coffee? Or tea, or me?" She playfully added. I thought I detected a faint undertone, very, very faint, that the 'me' might also be available. I opted for coffee and was treated to the sight of a shapely behind disappearing into the kitchen. Samantha's graceful movements reminded me of a dancer. I had only a short moment to admire a set of long legs before she was gone. I collected a few things I would need tomorrow, like my laptop, the digital recorder and some other paraphernalia. When she joined me in the living room with two cups of coffee she seated herself in an easy chair to my right. Again I noticed the sinuous movement of a dancer as she took her place. "How lonely are you?" she suddenly asked me. Again I thought I detected an unspoken note in her question. I decided to find out if my intuition was right. "Sure, I am lonely. And thanks for changing that. I guess I will have to close office earlier in the afternoon on Thursdays." She giggled and changed the subject. "I want you to know that I greatly admire you. This was a really magnanimous gesture to let your wife accompany Uncle George. Few husbands would consider that, especially under these unusual circumstances." "What unusual circumstances are you talking about," I wanted to know. She was quiet for a few seconds. I was sure she was trying to formulate her answer just right. Then she bent forward an inch or two and looked me straight in the eye. "It is not often that a woman uses a different name under certain circumstances." How much did she know? She definitely knew some. Should I let it go, or fill in the blanks? I decided that is was best she got the story from me. "Why don't I tell you what happened," I started. "It will give you a better understanding of the relationships involved in this unlikely triangle. It was at the Grand Hotel that I accidentally overheard a short exchange of just a few words between a female and a male. She was handing the man her earnings. I recognized my wife's voice at once. Wanting to find answers I went to the bar to watch the goings on from there. And there I happened to choose a seat next to your Uncle George who told me about his top girl Jessica. I told him that I would have to leave shortly. We agreed to meet again another afternoon for drinks. We met again and again and became close friends. I never let on who I was, but he told me about Jessica and how they had met. That they developed great feelings for each other, but not of the marrying kind, he stressed. Eventually they settled on girlfriend and boyfriend. He also told me about their dilemma regarding the vacation package for two to Germany he had recently won. He so much wanted Jessica to come with him. But how could the husband possibly agree to have his wife share this vacation with George? Anyway, they would have to tell him about Jessica the call girl, and about their relationship. A few days after he had told me about their problem I decided to cut the Gordian knot. I told Liolani that I knew about her other life; how I had met George and that we had become good friends. I added that I wanted them to go to Europe and enjoy their time together." After I had told my story I decided to shock Samantha further by telling her how I felt about a woman's rights to her own life, that her happiness should be my main concern if I truly loved her, plus a few more tidbits of my philosophy. When I finished she looked at me for a long moment. She then started speaking very slowly at first. "You just rose another 100 points with me, if that is possible." After another long pause she continued at her normal tempo. "A man like you is so rare that a woman will certainly do anything to make him happy." She paused for a few long moments. When she spoke again it was almost a whisper, "and she doesn't even have to be married to him." There again was this unspoken promise. My mind quickly assessed the situation and told me that here was a young, but mature female; and that at this moment she was just that, 'The Eternal Female'. I stood up and moved over to her chair. Standing in front of her I looked down into her eyes. And now I was absolutely sure. Her eyes were shining brightly, saying 'please, please make me yours, I am ready.'. I extended both hands. She seized them without hesitation and stood up. When I released her hands and took her in my arms her arms moved immediately landed my neck, even before my lips touched hers. Her body molded itself to mine as perfect as a second skin. We kissed, our tongues dancing with joy. In the morning she got up when I did and we had a fast breakfast before we both left, she for home, and I for work. But we said good-bye for three or four minutes. During those minutes promises were made. Coming back from my reverie I found Samantha staring at me. But the stare quickly changed to a smile as she guessed where my thoughts had been. As I lay awake before drifting off to sleep that night I felt a wave of happiness washing over me, and it occurred to me that the standard issue husband would have felt a terrible loss when finding his wife working as a call girl. Then he would burn up with jealousy while she is away on vacation for three weeks with another male. And finally, he would feel guilty for having invited someone else into his bedroom. But not me. I feel my life enriched in knowing that my loving wife brings happiness to more than one person, that I found a wonderful friend, and that I could share pleasures with a special lady. Yes, life can be a valley of sorrows, or a Paradise on Earth, the choice is yours.