Memoirs of a Gigolo

by Margaret Buffano

  “Ice…?” I asked, holding the two drinks.

  Her nose buried in a cookbook, without lifting her head, she pointed over to a large freezer in the corner of the room.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing her one of the drinks.

  She took it. “Thank you, darling! Now, you go back inside and relax, and let me have the pleasure of waiting on you.” Another quick kiss.

  As I sipped my drink, seated in a leather armchair, staring into the fire, I became aware, as I’m sure the reader is, this weekend alone was not to be like the get-togethers we had at my studio. Those were more like drunken Roman orgies for two…this was more…how should I put it…more domestic.

  And all those strange, new and different words floating about in the air…words like…Honey…Sweetheart…Darling! It was as if we were married! I had come home from a hard day at the office, and as I slipped off my shoes, sipped on my cocktail and relaxed, the little woman was in the kitchen preparing me a nice hot Home-Cooked Meal!

  It was all bizarre and a bit scary. But what I found the scariest of all was…now, don’t laugh…I was enjoying it…I thought it weird and wonderful and I was enjoying it!

  The meal was nothing to write home about, but the atmosphere she created…the wine…candlelight…music…made the simplest of things special. And the way she fussed over me…did I want more of this…did I get enough of that…I could make a full-time job out of being spoiled.

  After supper, we headed back into the living room for another scotch on ice. Lying in front of the fire, I became pulverized by the mental vision of two men crashing through the door, and with a single gunshot spraying my brains into the fire.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I whispered.

  I could see the disappointment in her eyes. It was obvious she imaged a night of lovemaking in front of a roaring fire.

  Oh, what the hell I thought, I seldom use my brains, anyway.

  I pulled her into my arms and kissed her deeply. I groped my hands about her body till I found the top button of her blouse; I tried to undo it, but did little more than fumble with it. She reached up and took hold of the top button of my shirt; her fumbling was no more successful than mine.

  Not meaning to, I pulled too hard at her blouse and the button flew loose. With her lips still pressed to mine, she began to laugh. She gripped firmly at the collar of my shirt and pulled forcibly till my top button popped off. Our lips moved apart; we fell into a fit of laughter.

  We rolled and tossed about on the floor, pulling and tugging at each other’s clothes. Buttons flying, stitching ripped apart. The sound of cloth tearing, fire crackling, and laughter filled the room. In a minute we stripped each other naked. The laughter stopped; arms and legs entwined, we melded into each other.

  ***

  Following morning, I found myself lying alone in front of the fireplace; the fire had grown cold long ago; there was a pillow under my head and a thick warm blanket sprawled over me.

  Next moment, Justine came into the room and handed me a cup of coffee.

  “Breakfast will be ready in five, my darling. How do you like your eggs?”

  “Sunnyside up…”

  “I should have known.” She smiled, and then reached over and gave me my Good Morning kiss.

  “Where do you want me?” I asked.

  “Don’t move,” she said, heading back toward the kitchen, “Stay where you are…I’ll bring it to you.”

  Oh…I could get used to this! I thought, resting down on the pillow, my hands interlocked behind my head.

  ***

  After breakfast, Justine went upstairs to prepare the bedroom, while I went out to the garage to fetch the luggage.

  The main bedroom was more frilly and lacey than the rest of the house, more girly than I expected.

  When I entered, Justine had the shower going; she wore a white terrycloth robe and was rushing about the room gathering things for her shower…a towel…soap…shampoo…lotions. As she whizzed by me, I reached out and took hold of her, I put my arms around her and nuzzled my face into the curve of her neck.

  “Alex…don’t,” she laughed, “I’m dirty…I need to shower!”

  “I don’t care; I think you smell like fresh cut flowers!”

  I took hold of the sash of her robe, opened it, flipped off her robe and tossed it into the corner of the room. I scooped her up in my arms and threw her down onto the bed. In an instant, I was out of my clothes; I dove on top of her.

  “I like my girl to be a little dirty,” I whispered.

  “Am I your girl?” she asked into my eyes.

  “Of course, you are!”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down on top of her. “Oh, baby!” she moaned softly into my ear.

  ***

  And that’s much of how the rest of the day went. I’m not saying we didn’t do anything else; but they were just interludes between our love making.

  She took her shower, and when she came out, we made love, again, and then she took another shower.

  We held hands, as we walked down to the pond, then back to the house and made love, again. After that, we walked down to the river where we talked and skimmed rocks till it was time for lunch. Back at the house, lunch was sandwiches and scotch on ice…a strange combination to be sure…after lunch, we went upstairs for an afternoon frolic and a short siesta. Later, we walked down into a valley, taking turns looking through a pair of binoculars at the wildlife in the distance. We spoke about important things…about philosophies…of cabbages and kings, so the poet says. Then we headed back to the house and up to the bedroom, once more. I slept dreamlessly, while she went off to prepare supper.

  After another lovely dinner and a bit too much wine, we went upstairs to the bedroom. Instead of making love, we feel asleep in each others arms.

  ***

  It was nine o’clock at night…I remember, because I looked at the clock…we were rudely awakened by the sound of cars roaring in the front of the house. The room was dark. Still, when I opened my eyes I could see Justine looking at me. Then there was the sound of men talking and laughing coming from downstairs.

  “It’s Jack and his friends…probably here for the weekend…don’t be afraid,” she whispered.

  I could hear the sound of feet coming up the stairs. Obviously, Jack was a large man. There was a knock at the bedroom door.

  “Yes?” Justine directed her question to the door.

  “Justine…it’s me…Jack. Can I come in for a minute?”

  “Just one second,” she cried. She looked at me and pointed toward the bathroom. I got out of bed and entered it, closing the door behind me.

  Justine reached over and turned on the night-light next to the bed.

  “Okay, Jack, you can come in.”

  I kept the bathroom door slightly ajar, to watch. The man slowly and respectfully entered the room.

  “Justine…I’m sorry…I saw your car in the garage…I didn’t know you’d be here. Me and the boys thought we’d come up for the weekend and get some fishing in.”

  “It’s okay, Jack…it’s no big deal…I was planning to leave in the morning, anyway.”

  “Well…like I said, I’m sorry…if you need us to…?”

  “Jack…I said it’s no big deal…I was planning to leave tomorrow, anyway.”

  There was a moment of silence between the two.

  “So…how have you been?” asked Jack.

  “Just fine…and you?” Justine countered.

  “Oh, fine…listen I got to get back to the boys. We’ll try not to make too much noise. Don’t worry…you won’t see us…we’ll be off early in the morning. Good night, Justine.”

  “Good night, Jack.”

  As he closed the door, I stood in the bathroom feeling sorry for the both of them. Justine got out of bed, rushed across the room and locked the door. She got back into bed and turned off the light. I stepped out of the bathroom and tiptoed back into bed. I reached out into the darkness for her,
my hand touched her face, it was wet from tears. I held her close and tightly till she fell asleep in my arms.

  ***

  Justine and I woke early the next morning before dawn. True to his word, Jack and his fishing buddies were long gone. We gathered our things quickly and silently. We scurried down the stairs and into the garage. We packed the car, I hurried into the front seat, Justine got behind the wheel and we drove off.

  An uneasy, uncomfortable feeling was hovering over us; not till we were well on our way down the main highway and miles away did it lift.

  Justine remained quiet for most of the trip. I would have offered her a penny for her thoughts, but I feared what she was thinking was more costly. I was proven right, when she finally broke the silence.

  “Were you telling me the truth, when you said you kill people for money?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

  I hesitated for a moment, then I let out a soft and shameful, “Yes”.

  “Then, I want to make you an offer to kill my husband!”

  “Justine…I...?” I couldn’t find the right words, but my tone hinted my disapproval.

  “Let me finish, Alex. Don’t say a word, till you hear my offer.”

  She remained focused on the road ahead, unable to look at me; I became silent and listened.

  “My offer is this…everything! With my husband gone, I inherit everything…the houses, cars, investments, bank accounts…millions! I will hand it all over to you. All I ask is you take me for your wife, or mistress, or lover…whichever way you want it…and we live together forever.

  “I love you, Alex, I know that now. I know it more clearly than I have ever known anything in my life. I want to be with you, always. You know how happy I can make you; I enjoy making you happy. I want to do that and that only for the rest of my life!

  “So, that’s my offer…everything…everything I am and everything I have is yours.”

  She took her eyes off the road just for a moment, and looked into mine.

  “Will you murder Jack…will you murder my husband?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I have to think about it,”

  “Why…don’t you believe me? Write up a contract…draw up a contract stating everything I’ve offered you, and I swear I’ll sign it!” she argued.

  “It’s not that, Justine; I do believe you. But you must believe me…this is a big decision…I need time to think. If you love me and trust me as much as you say…please…give me some time!”

  She directed her focus back to the highway.

  “You’re right,” she said softly, “Whatever you say, my darling. I love you. Everything is yours. From now on, you’re in charge.”

  Both of us spoke no more than three or four sentences for the rest of the trip; but you could almost hear the wheels turning in both our minds.

  ***

  We decided to spend what was left of the weekend at my studio, especially in the light we knew exactly where Jack would be for the next few days.

  Within the first five minutes of our arrival, we were in bed and naked. We had become addicted…to each other…to our lovemaking…and we could never seem to get enough.

  There was plenty of white wine on ice; and I scavenged tidbits of food from the kitchen. We picnicked on the bed. We ate…we talked…we laughed…we made love till early the next morning.

  I looked across the darkness at the clock on the nightstand…three in the morning. I was unable to sleep; my mind going over and over what we talked about earlier in the car.

  A small sliver of moonlight entered through the window blinds, shining down like a spotlight on Justine lying fast asleep next to me.

  I examined her for a moment. I could see the curves of her body under the thin white sheet, and I realized her beauty aroused me like no other woman had ever done, or ever will. Her face glowed from the moonlight, and her hair reflected it like a mirror. She looked like an angel.

  I got out of bed, and made my way to the living room. There was no need to turn on a lamp; the moon’s glow illumined the entire studio in ultramarine blue and silver…giving one a feeling of being underwater.

  I stood naked, next to the dining table; Justine’s purse was resting on it. Without a thought in my mind, I picked it up and rummaged through it till I was holding her driver’s license. I tilted the laminated card so the light coming from the moon, a million miles away, allowed me to read her date of birth.

  If I didn’t know her and saw her on the street, and I had to guess how old she was, I thought, I would have to say, she looked forty…perhaps forty-two on the outside.

  But knowing her social and financial status, it was not uncommon to suspect there had been some improvements made through plastic surgery…a face-lift, here…a tummy-tuck, there…maybe even a breast job.

  With that in mind, let’s add a couple of years. I guessed her to be forty-five…the most.

  I looked at her date of birth on the card; I did the math.

  That can’t be right, I thought.

  I walked over to my desk, took up pen and paper and did the math, again, slowly. I did the sums three times, three different ways, and each time the answer was the same.

  That beautiful sexy woman asleep in my bed, whom I made love to countless times in the past few months, who I was thinking of spending the rest of my life with…the love of my life…was sixty-two years old.

  The words of caution Harold once spoke to me came flooding into my mind.

  “Just add ten years to the number you find; and try to imagine what she’ll look like then!” His words echoed over and over.

  I knew a decision had to be made. It frightened me; I was never one for making the right decisions. I was almost tempted to make a decision and then follow the opposite course of action; I so mistrusted myself. But this time it would be different, I would take the path I always avoided…this time, I would follow my heart.

  I took up another piece of paper; and with pen in hand, I began to write.

  My dear beloved Justine,

  This is my confession…my pledge…my promise…my contract.

  First, my confession…I love you. I love you as I never loved before. The times we have spent together have been the happiest moments of my life. The memory of you, when you’re away, overshadows all other memories. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I confess…I love you!

  As for my pledge and promise, they are unnecessary. Toward you, I can do no wrong. You are above and before all others, including myself. There is, and will never be, no one but you.

  And now, my contract…though it damn me to hell for eternity…I vow…I swear…to the death of your husband. And with his murder, the wall that stands between us will crumble. And we will live the years together, no matter how long or short that time may be.

  For you, I will do all this and more. And if I fail, and they capture me and hang me for it, as I dangle to my death at the end of a rope, the last word my swollen tongue will utter will be…Justine.

  Forgive me for taking this overly dramatic poet’s note, but it is the only way to express my true feelings. I do love you, so!

  Forever your servant,

  Alex

  I folded the note into an envelope and placed it and the driver’s license into her purse, and returned to bed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Stomping out fires on thin ice”

  It had been little over a month since the fiasco at Harold’s office, which was the last time I’d seen Chi. During that time; I intentionally did all I could to sever the ties that bound us. Our phone conversations, always incited by him, were becoming fewer and far between with the passing of time. When we did speak, I kept the exchange cordial but short. I was never available for any of his invitations, be it a casual friendly get-together or a sure-thing moneymaking scheme. We were slowly drifting apart, which was just fine with me, at least at the time it was.

  Now the tables had turned; I needed him. I was no k
iller! Shooting Harold had been an act of mercy. And no matter how strong my feelings were for Justine, no matter how much money hung in the balance, I could never murder Jack Hutchinson. I needed Chi for that. Somehow, I had to backtrack and work my way once more into his good graces. I knew what I had to do to achieve this, it would be easy, but it could also be dangerous. If for one instance Chi suspected I was using him, or worse, he would be discarded after being used, I was a dead man.

  Chi suffered all his life from the chronic case of loneliness. Since he was a child, he had no one he could connect with, to trust, to love or be loved by. He had a thirst only the milk of human kindness could quench.

  In his mind, I was the family he never had; I was his partner, his best friend and brother. I tried my best to back away from all that; and I’m sure it angered him. But if I could convince him I was wrong, that I foolishly strayed outside the brotherhood, and wanted desperately back in. And that I would never stray again. If I could make him feel secure once more and believe in our friendship…I could get him to kill for me.

  Of course, I was foolishly thinking about my present predicament and not about the future. Even if I did pull it off…get Chi to kill Jack…once he realized I abandoned him for Jack’s widow…it would be a good bet he would be gunning for me and, perhaps, Justine as well. But one problem at a time; I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

  First part of my plan was to soften my landing back into Chi’s life; nothing warmed the cockles of his heart more than cold cash. I couldn’t go to Justine for the money; after all, she didn’t know I subcontracted all my killings. She thought, and I let her keep thinking, I was the one who would put an end to Jack. I would slay the dragon; I was her savior; I was her hero; I was doing this out of love…out of passion!

  My only solution was to fund the project myself. I had a sizable amount of cash stashed away; and besides, it was a good investment. Once Justine and I were together, I would receive back ten thousandfold.