by Leit, Marv
“Those damned ignorant red-neck honky bastards” She cursed them.
Then, I saw the truck coming along the next street over. They had made the next left turn and were coming back looking for us. I said to Raquel, duck down. We hunched down in the seat to keep our heads low. The truck passed by the lot without them seeing us. We pulled out and went the other way. Both of us were shaking with anger. We decided to skip lunch and head back to Wilmington.
While we were going out I discovered something about Raquel that surprised and sometimes shocked me. It was her love for the unusual sexual turn on. She loved to see some guy getting his ‘nose wide open’ for her, as she used to say. I enjoyed it too, when it didn’t turn into a sticky situation, as it sometimes did.
We lived for a while in a high-rise condo unit right downtown. In fact it was next to a seedy part of town, with a strip bar on the next block over. However, our place was high above all the street life going on below.
For groceries and perishables we usually walked a few blocks to a local grocery store. It was small busy place with lots of action around it. One day, in the middle of summer we had planned to go shopping. It was warm and humid and spitting light drops of rain. Not enough to keep us in, but enough to wear some cover. I got ready and put my jacket on. Raquel came out in a three quarter length light green rain slicker. We started off under an umbrella for the store.
On the way, Raquel said, “Look here.”
I looked over and she had the top front buttons on the slicker undone and was showing me her bare breast. I flipped out.
“What the hell are you wearing under that coat?” I asked.
“Nothing” she said with a giggle.
“NO!” I exclaimed. “Nothing? Really?”
“Not a stitch, baby. Under this coat I’m bare naked.” She laughed at my discomfort. “Don’t worry, no one can tell.”
We kept walking. I was undecided whether I was angry or aroused. Both, I think. We went into the store and began gathering the groceries. As we moved around, I could see that no one noticed us, or saw anything out of the ordinary. I relaxed.
Raquel kept telling me, “Oh we need this, or go get this for me.” I wandered away from her and looked for the items she requested. When I brought them back, she was in the produce section talking to a young black man about nineteen or twenty. They were laughing. I walked up to put the things I carried into the cart. Raquel said, “Richard this is my husband.” We shook hands. He seemed a little embarrassed, but I put it down to shyness. Then I looked at Raquel. The front of her coat was unbuttoned, her ample cleavage and a large inner part of her breast was open to view.
“Buttons undone” I said.
“Oh, gosh. Excuse me.” She said. She turned away and did up a couple of buttons. Then she turned back to Richard and said, “Well Richard, nice talking to you. We’ll see you later.” We walked away.
“Well, someone noticed your boobs, sweetheart. I think Richard was about to pop his cork.” I said.
“Oh Bobbie, he didn’t see that much. It wasn’t open that far down.” She argued. We paid for the groceries and had them set aside for delivery. Then we walked back home. I had already planned to go to the office for a few hours, so when we got home, I left to get the work done.
I returned just in time to see the truck from the grocery store leaving. They had made their delivery. I went upstairs to the apartment and found Raquel putting the items away. She had changed into a very tight brief pair of denim cutoffs that showed the bottom of her buttocks. I liked to see her wear sexy clothes, which she did frequently but not for my benefit only. Her top was a silky little camisole held loosely across her bust by two tiny strings over her shoulders and one around her back leaving her midriff uncovered and the tops of her breasts bare. Her beautiful black body was clearly on display.
“I saw the delivery truck leaving.” I said.
“Yeah” She said. “They just dropped them off. It was Richard and another guy, Keith I think.” I looked at her.
“They must have enjoyed it.” I said.
“What are you talking about?” She asked, pretending she was not aware of my meaning.
“Your outfit” I said. “You look fabulous in that outfit. It’s very sexy. I bet they loved it.”
She stopped reaching for the groceries and stood looking at me with her hands on her hips, her exquisite body barely covered in her tight skimpy outfit. She was obviously dressed to arouse sexual interest.
“Oh, that” She said, as she recognized the censure in my remark. “I like being sexy around young nice looking guys. Are you jealous?”
“Insanely” I said. She laughed.
“No you’re not.” She said with a toss of her head. “Well, I don’t care if you are. Lucky for you I didn’t invite them to stay. You would have been locked out.”
We both laughed. Indeed she was very sexy, and I loved it.
Raquel was much more than merely beautiful. She had a spirit and passion that kept life whirling around her in a constant turmoil of spontaneous events and changing situations that I sometimes found so confusing I had to separate myself and let things flow without my intervention. She thrived on drama. I could get along very well without it.
Her young teenage daughter was a frequent source of drama that often brought her and me at odds with each other. She was a very protective and attentive mother, who cared deeply for her child. At the same time her daughter was reaching an age where she felt she was entitled to some independence. Part of the problem stemmed from our struggle with Canadian immigration. When the case was taken over by another agent and began to get straightened out, our daughter was living with her father in Omaha, Nebraska. In order to let the application go forward we either had to bring her back to Toronto, or take her off the application. We chose the latter option. Her daughter therefore had no official status in Canada.
Her last year of high school had to be in Omaha, where she graduated. Then she came back to live with us in Toronto. Her race, cultural background, youth and inexperience and her lack of official status, were all factors that tended to lead her into an underground shadowy world of unsavory characters, and risky behavior. She was a beautiful, gentle, sensitive young girl who was also very creative. She made jewelry and articles of clothing for a clientele that included strippers, hookers, artists, addicts and various street people.
Raquel, in order to protect her daughter from being led into some horrible situation, would often go with her into that world and befriended many people with her vivacious personality. Quite a few who, shall we say, frequented establishments of ill repute, strip clubs and seedy bars. It led to a strange kind of existence for me. On weekends, I would often find myself among a gathering of hookers, strippers, barmaids, pot-smokers, street artists, musicians, and a weird assortment of dancers, and entertainers. Some of whom were friends of our daughter, and many who were friends of my wife. Our location in an urban high rise condo in the downtown area was a convenient meeting place. During the week I was a buttoned down, straight arrow, suit and tie consultant with all the appearance of white middle class businessman. I sat in boardrooms with CEO’s and company executives.
Eventually, our daughter became involved in activities that brought her to the attention of authorities. We had to send her to live permanently with her father. That lasted for only a brief time, before she left to make her way on her own. She was a constant worry to my wife, but our life became easier.
However, the contacts my wife made in the so-called underworld were all friendly and interesting. We were often invited to parties where we mingled with odd characters, like hookers, transvestites, lesbian and gay couples, exotic dancers, entertainers and swingers. Raquel seemed to enjoy these eclectic gatherings much more than the rather stodgy cocktail parties which we would attend in my business world. However, in either milieu she was always a hit.
Raquel also liked to entertain.
At one Christmas party I remember we had as our guests
, a couple of homosexuals who owned a local bar, a prostitute who frequented the bar, two strippers appearing at a nearby club, a bouncer from the local strip club and his girlfriend, a couple of weird looking Goth lesbians, and a middle aged divorced ex-wife of a prominent city politician living in a local women’s shelter. As if this wasn’t a weird enough group of misfits, Raquel also invited one of her evening escort clients who had decided to stay in the city rather than spend a boring Christmas with his wife and her family. He was a stockbroker.
I have seldom enjoyed myself at a party as much as I did with that group of unlikely and totally mismatched guests. We had herb, beer and alcohol but no hard drugs. It was a blast, and both the stockbroker and the middle age divorcee often asked us later when we were going to have another party.
She also enjoyed flirting and being in the company of a variety of strange men. I found out early in our relationship that keeping her with me meant letting her go. Any pangs of jealousy I might harbor within me had to be suppressed. I knew that expressing disapproval of her behavior would knock me down several notches, and might lead to separation. I found that by letting those feelings out in love making I was able to release them and also keep her love and approval. She soon picked up on that and learned to tease me into a frenzy of sexual ardor with hints about her liaisons with other men. I was helpless in her hands when she decided to push those buttons in my libido.
In fact as our relationship evolved the hints became more reality than fantasy. In a conversation with Raquel one evening we discussed her feelings about fidelity and the possibility of sexual encounters with other men. The conversation was prompted by an impending visit to the city by a male friend with whom she had a previous history of sexual relations. He had managed to contact her through mutual friends and was going to be visiting the city on a business trip. Raquel asked me if I would mind if she went out with him. My question, of course, was who was he, how did she know him, and what kind of relationship did they have?
Her answers were not reassuring. She had known him a long time ago, several years prior to meeting me. He was an ex-military man, a friend and co-worker of her husband, who was now working in private industry. I felt there was more. How close were you? It turned out that she had had an affair with him while her husband was serving in theater during the Vietnam War. They had regular sexual relations over a year and a half. That set my teeth on edge.
“Really, Bobbie, you should know by now that I have had other men in my life.” She said.
“Of course, I do.” I said. “It’s just that past lovers are more threatening than potential new ones.”
She laughed. “Oh, I see.” She said. “It’s not the new men I might meet that worry you, it’s the ones I’ve had in the past.”
“Exactly.” I said.
“Well, let me assure you, Charlie is past history. I have no intention of starting anything with him ever again.” she said, looking directly into my eyes.
“Fine. Go ahead.” I said. She gave me a kiss and said. “Thank you darling. You’re the perfect man for me.”
“How long is he going to be here?” I asked her.
“I’m not sure. A week or so I guess. He wants to take me out this Friday.” She said in a matter of fact tone. “You know, honey, I love you. But, let’s have an understanding between us. I may have a desire to enjoy sex with someone else occasionally. It’s not cheating on you if you know about it. Right?”
“I suppose not. If I know about it and we agree that it’s okay, then it can’t be cheating.” I said.
“But, if you don’t know beforehand, I will tell you right after.” She said.
She was asking me to leave the decision in her hands. I thought about it.
“Okay” I said. “If you tell me, either before or after, it’s not cheating. However, if I find out about it before you tell me that will destroy my trust in you. That’s the danger. I love you madly, but if I can’t trust you, it will destroy us.”
She reached for my hand.
“That’s so true, darling.” She said. “I don’t want that to happen. If we can’t trust each other the relationship will fail. I will always tell you if I plan to do anything that might be risky or crossing the line.”
I pulled her face to mine and kissed her.
She went out with Charlie and came home about three in the morning. She got into a shower before joining me in bed. She smelled of soap and fresh perfume. I took her into my arms.
“Did you have a good evening?” I asked.
“Yes, baby. It was good.” she said and then paused. “I gave it up tonight. I had sex with Charlie.”
“I knew you would.” I said.
“How could you?” She asked, looking up at me from the pillow. “I didn’t know myself, when I left to meet him.”
“I could tell by the way you were dressed. I knew he would not take no for an answer.” I said. She smiled up at me.
“It wasn’t him, baby.” She said. “It was me. I wanted to find out if there was any of the old magic there anymore. I had to find out. He was the same old Charlie, but the magic is definitely gone. We had great sex, but no spark. I love you for letting me do what I had to do.”
I took her body in my hands and brought her to arousal, and then made passionate love to her. The next day, she said.
“You always make such beautiful love to me when I’ve been a bad girl.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” I said. “I can still make beautiful love to you without the jealousy.” She laughed.
Her attitude to sex was, for me, refreshingly open. She enjoyed sex with me as an expression of love and affection. She could also enjoy sex with another man as a recreational activity if he was attractive and appealing, and she could also use sex to achieve some power and influence over a potential benefactor. For her sex was a useful means to gain some advantage, a favor she could grant at will to obtain something in return. However, she was not promiscuous. Her liaisons were discreet and infrequent, and, except for one or two occasions, she was open with me about if and when she had or intended to have sex with someone else.
On one occasion, she called me at work one afternoon, and asked, “How do you feel about me going to Montreal with a friend this weekend?”
“With who?” I asked.
“Manfred Gartner.” She said. I knew about Manfred. He was a man she had met when she was working as front desk clerk in the hotel several years ago. He was a manager of a hotel property in Miami at the time. He had invited her to come to visit him in Miami. She told me she had gone, and they spent a weekend together. He was European, a German I believe. He spoke several languages fluently, had traveled extensively and was very suave and handsome. I felt a little threatened by her admiration for him, but I wasn’t going to show that to her.
Then he turned up in Toronto about six months after we had settled into our house there. He managed one of the large Marriott properties. Raquel and he had discovered each other by accident when she was on one of her escort agency dates. She had gone on a couple of dates with him, but assured me he was just a good friend. I believed her and accepted that she would spend an evening with him from time to time.
“When did this come up?” I asked. It was Thursday afternoon. She was proposing to leave the next day.
“He called me this morning. He’s going to interview with some people at Hyatt for a senior manager position in Ocho Rios. He wants to have me along as a companion.” She said.
I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was excited about going.
“When would you be back?” I asked.
“Oh, Sunday night, probably. It’s just a weekend trip.” She said.
I said okay. She thanked me and hung up. I guessed she would be calling him to let him know. I went back to work.
When I arrived at home, there was a note on the kitchen counter.
‘Hi baby.’ It said. ‘Manfred wanted to drive up to Montreal this evening. I had to pack quickly. See you Sunday. Lov
e you. Raquel’
She was gone.
‘Well, okay, just an extra day. No biggy.’ I thought.
She called later that night to tell me they had arrived. She apologized for the quick departure. I said, “I’m glad to hear you made it okay. Have fun, darling.” She thanked me and told me she loved me.
I took the opportunity to spend time with my kids that weekend. It kept my mind away from speculating about Raquel. Sunday night came and went, with no sign of Raquel. She called me early Monday morning to explain that Manfred had another meeting that morning and they would be coming back later that day.
