Chapter Eighteen - Public Offering

Kathy did not wake up until eleven the next morning. She was happy to discover that Stella and Richie had gone. There was a note on the kitchen counter from Stella.

“My Dear Kathy,

I’m so proud of you. I intend to give Mr. Stein a glowing report. I understand you serviced Richie again before he fell asleep. How you can even bring yourself to be in the same room with him is still a mystery to me. It’s become clear that for some strange reason you mean it when you say that you are his woman. I don’t think he knows yet just how much control he has over you, but he’s beginning to understand. When he fully realizes it, you better be careful. Richie has no conscience and, as you know, he is mean as a junkyard dog.

Thank you for making me come so good. You have a sweet and loving mouth.

Sincerely,

Stella (your Mommy)

P.S. Stein would like you to stay home this afternoon. After I give him my report, he intends to pay you a visit.”

By noon, Kathy had done the dishes, vacuumed, showered, applied her make-up and dressed; short tight blue cotton shift, bare legs and black heels. She set a fire, opened a bottle of wine, and, on the coffee table, placed a platter of cheese and crackers.

Stein arrived by cab and greeted her warmly. “Well, well, Mrs. Sconzo, your little party went even better than I had expected. Stella is still talking about it.” Kathy had trouble with compliments from Stein. She felt like a schoolgirl being praised by a teacher she admired and feared. The effect was not lost on Stein. “My, how prettily you blush, Mrs. Sconzo.” He sank down into his big chair. She sat across from him and poured wine for each of them.

“I’m flattered that you’ve come for a visit, Mr. Stein. I know how you dislike leaving your...your...”

“Home, Mrs. Sconzo.”

“Yes, your home.”

“I was going to phone you but decided the matter I wish to discuss requires direct contact. In addition, I wanted to congratulate you personally on last night’s performance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stein, but before we do anything else, I need to talk about my...my... marriage to Richie and about the things that have bothering me since then.”

Stein helped himself to a cracker and cheese. “I thought we had exhausted that subject, but if it really upsets you Mrs. Sconzo, go ahead.”

Kathy took a sip of wine and, putting her glass down, leaned forward. “Mr. Stein, since marrying Richie and...and horribly degrading myself right after the wedding, and again last light before my friends...I mean it’s all been like a nightmare...I can’t, I simply can’t imagine myself doing the things I know I’ve done. I keep going over and over your explanation of why I behave in this insane way.”

“And have you come to any conclusions?”

“Well, there may be some truth to the idea that I feel compelled to do penance for past sins. But, my God, the penance is more sinful than the sins. There may also be some substance to your theory about my sexual appetite and my need to satisfy it in...in..in ways that are obviously unacceptable.” She paused and picked up her glass but put it back before drinking. Stein waited. “But to marry Richie...to...to give myself to him as I do. To submit to his perverse demands...you must admit, Mr. Stein, to do that defies all reason. Why am I like this? I want to find the truth.”

“The truth, Mrs. Ryan...I mean, Mrs. Sconzo, is, as they say, not for us to know. I’m convinced of that.”

“But it’s a hard fact that...that...I...I fed the leeches. It’s a hard fact that I married Richie, that I...” she couldn’t finish.

Leaning back, Stein closed his eyes and folded his white fingers over his stomach. He was quiet for a long time. Without opening his eyes or changing position, he began to speak. “Very well then, let us first consider the matter of the leeches. There are marks on your breasts and no doubt a small scar on your vaginal opening.” Kathy’s face reddened at the memory. “Since I was in attendance at the event, I can bear witness that it occurred. You, yourself, are able to describe in colorful detail what you felt as well as the sights and sounds of that memorable evening. To all intents and purposes it is true that at a certain time and in a certain place you fed three leeches.”

Kathy was about to respond but he held up his hand to silence her. “However, Mrs. Sconzo,” he continued, “that is not the only truth. It is just our perception of what occurred. We might ask the leeches to explain their version of the truth. After all, they were as involved as you were.” He opened his eyes and smiled.

“You’re joking,” she said.

“Not entirely. Maybe it is egotistical of us to imagine that our perception is the only valid one. From the leeches’ point of view, they experienced hunger. Then they came in contact with a host who satisfied their hunger. They would see the truth of that experience as simple and pure, see it as quite natural.”

“But their perception is limited to the most fundamental things.”

“Exactly my point. They know nothing of nipples or candlelight, nothing of clitorises and orgasms. They know nothing of sin and redemption. They know only primal instinct, and perhaps that’s where the real truth lies. Come to think of it, in some small way Richie is like them.”

Kathy shifted uneasily under his gaze. “But what about me. Why is it I do these things. I mean on the human level. I...I...humiliate myself. I enter into the most immoral disgusting and even painful experiences. What’s the truth behind my crazy behavior?”

“Anyone, Mrs. Sconzo, who claims to know the truth about why we do what we do is a presumptuous fool. That includes Freud and Jung and all the rest. The shrinks may give you plausible reasons, but as for the truth they can get no closer to it than the leeches.” He sighed and shifted his bulk, “As a young girl, you felt that, however indirectly, you were somewhat responsible for your parents’ death in the accident. Later you began to touch yourself, sinfully, in the house and before the eyes of your uncle the priest. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And your background led you to believe the only way to redeem yourself was through penance, through pain either physical or emotional?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“So, years later you humiliated yourself by approaching Wally, by coming to Harry’s Bar in Hawthorne, by giving yourself to Wally, and later by feeding my leeches.” Kathy nodded. “Finally, because of guilt over your husband’s death, you entered into marriage with Richie. It’s difficult to imagine a worse penance than that.”

“Yes, all the things you mention were ways to...to...”

He interrupted, “But just how painful did you find those experiences? You were stimulated. Your pussy was hot and wet. You had orgasms more intense than you’d ever felt. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, it’s true, but still, Mr. Stein...when I think of Richie. When I stop to realize that I’m his...his wife. Whenever you call me ‘Mrs.Sconzo’, I get this sinking sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I want very much to run away or simply disappear.”

“Not only are you his wife, Mrs. Sconzo, but his obedient wife. As you yourself said, ‘his woman’.”

“Yes, his obedient wife. Richie Sconzo’s woman.”

“But getting back to why you chose to become Richie’s woman. You insist on judging behavior as if it were proven that rational human beings act on the basis of rational facts.”

“But don’t they?”

“As I said, the facts don’t really matter, at least not very much. We may weigh options objectively, but when it comes time to decide or act, we do so because of our feelings. For most of us, it is the heart that makes the choices, the heart and the libido.”

“What kind of insane feelings of the heart directed me to choose Wally, the leeches, and now...now this impossible marriage to...to...”

“The maggot,” Stein chuckled. He shifted again in the leather chair and looked at her thoughtfully. “Those feelings that governed your choices are not in the least insane. They are, I believe, quite normal. From time to time each of us finds in humiliation some small pleasure. For a few of us the pleasure of humiliation is frequent and powerful.” Stein leaned forward to pick up his glass. He watched her as he sipped. Putting the glass down, he smiled and saw once more the color rise to her cheeks. “It is, my dear,” he continued, “a universal truth that we usually deny.”

“I still don’t understand.” Kathy felt as if she were at the bottom of a dark pit.

“Let me put it this way,” Stein began. “From our first breath we are taught to serve. I expect it’s intuitive in human beings, a part of our genetic code, an essential component of communal living. In our formative years we are comfortable with ‘yes, sir’ and ‘yes, ma’am’. It is this obsequious deference to authority that makes our lives easier. Without it, schools, churches, armies, governments, even families could not function. We realize very early that authority is necessary. We learn that authority, whatever the source, eases our way in the world, and the more grateful we are to authority the easier our journey. In addition, authority has the power to forgive us our trespasses as we stumble along the path.”

He paused again, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Very early in its history, the Church fathers understood our wish to trade the terrifying prospect of exercising free will for the security of service. In some orders the desire to serve and sacrifice is as extreme as yours is. You differ from them only in the methods you employ and the icons you serve. You and your cloistered sisters have your roots in the same soil and are nourished by the same waters, service and guilt.”

He chuckled, “And there is another component we must not forget. Think back, Mrs. Sconzo. Before that morning when Wally’s grader awakened you, you were an extremely bored housewife. You were convinced that life had to be more than dinner parties, the country club, and your handsome but absolutely predictable husband.” She nodded her head. “So,” Stein said, “what is the truth? What really governs your behavior? Is it the need to find redemption through humiliation? The growing distaste for your role as an upscale suburban housewife? The quest for sexual stimulation? All of the above?”

“I guess it’s all of the above,” Kathy said.

“How about none of the above?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I suspect, Mrs. Sconzo, that the real truth is unknowable. There is a scene in Act I of ‘Hamlet’. Hamlet’s friend Horatio questions Hamlet’s insistence that he has seen his father’s ghost. Hamlet responds by saying, ‘There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamp’t of in thy philosophy, Horatio’.”

“You mean supernatural...”

He cut her off. “I mean the truth is almost never what we believe it to be. Perhaps you are simply doing what you were sent here to do. Maybe, like the leeches, you are acting on pure instinct. Or maybe it’s destiny.”

“Destiny?”

“Yes, it’s possible you were sent here to save us...save me, and Wally, and Richie, and Stella, and Cordelia, and your Uncle. It’s quite possible that your behavior in some incomprehensible way is a means of saving us all. Without you, perhaps we would be more reprehensible than we are.” He smiled, but she was sure he had not been joking.

He leaned forward and surprised her by taking her hand in his and patting it. “If you insist on facts or reasonable explanations, let me offer one that probably gets closer to the truth than anything else.” He sat back again and regarded her seriously for a few moments. “In the past several years a large body of scientific evidence has been accumulating which strongly indicates a genetic cause for much of our behavior. It’s the genetic code that gives Caucasians, Blacks, Asians, and Indians their defining physical characteristics. But our genes govern much more than what is immediately observable. Prostate cancer strikes twice as many black males as whites. Most homosexuals don’t choose to be homosexuals. I think it’s equally true that those of us who have a predisposition to become sadists or masochists are genetically programmed. With very little outside help we become what we were destined to become. You, Mrs. Sconzo, can’t help being who and what you are.”

She filled their wineglasses hoping to delay talking about the matters Stein had come to discuss. “Well, Mr. Stein, whatever the reasons for my bizarre behavior, it’s certain I have descended as far as I can go. Or to use your analogy, I have jumped over the highest possible bar.”

Stein put down his glass and studied her, “Do you remember our conversation here in this room right after Richie had reluctantly agreed to your proposal of marriage?’

“I’m not sure. We spoke of a lot of things.”

“Yes, and among them was a pledge you made. You promised that after the marriage you would feel obliged to demonstrate your devotion to your husband in public.”

“But on the wedding night there were your friends and just last evening my friends were here and they saw...”

Stein lifted a hand to cut her off, “Yes, Mrs. Sconzo. However, a few friends in my house or yours do not constitute a public.” She felt her heart sink, the old fear returning. “I mean,” Stein continued, “I’ve arranged for you and Richie to spend a night on the town: dining, drinking, dancing, a special romantic evening shared by two young lovers,” he laughed.

“But Richie wouldn’t agree. He doesn’t know how to...to...”

“Conduct himself in public,” Stein finished her sentence. “Yes, you’re right about that. But Richie doesn’t much care. He has only one thing on his mind. You know what that is?”

“Yes.”

“I would advise you, Mrs. Sconzo, not to sell Richie short. He is capable of learning. It takes awhile, but he can do it.”

“You’ve been teaching him?” she asked.

“In a way, yes. As you might expect, Richie has a very poor opinion of who he is. I’ve been trying to boost his self-image.”

“Why?”

“Because, Mrs. Sconzo, until he understands that it is in his self interest to expand his sexual horizons, he cannot fully appreciate the possibilities in his relationship to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me put it this way,” Stein said. “Just what is the nature of the relationship between you and Richie?”

She hesitated, not wanting to say it, “We...we are married, husband and wife.”

“True, but how exactly did you define that relationship when you were begging your new husband to consummate the marriage there in my house before the guests? Think back, Mrs. Sconzo. Exactly how did you define it to Richie?”

She bowed her head. “I...I...said I was his woman. I belonged to him.”

“Precisely. Are you taking that back? Do you now wish to redefine the relationship? Do you now wish to say you are not Richie’s woman? Tell me.”

She looked up and stared at him for several moments than looked away. “No,” she said feeling the heat between her legs, “No, I am his now and I don’t want to change that.”

“I thought so,” Stein said, “therefore I have taken it upon myself to instruct your half-witted husband as to what your belonging to him means. Richie has been learning that there’s more than one way to enjoy his lovely bride. I believe he’s beginning to realize that in order to be the man he wants to be, he must become both more demanding and more articulate. We’ve made some progress teaching him to be more demanding. However, I’m not so sure he’s becoming more articulate.”

“How can he demand more than I’ve already given?

“Let’s just say that I have made suggestions to the poor boy as to a variety of things he might require of you. Let us say that I have indicated if you were made to obey these demands in public places, it would show others what a man he is. He really enjoys this newfound approval of others. In order to keep this approval he must prove that you are indeed his woman. As much as Richie enjoys the sexual access you open up to him, he has discovered that the respect of others derives from your willingness to do what he tells you to do. He wants to look like a big man. He realizes that for the first time in his life other men envy him. He believes he looks like a big man because he possesses a beautiful woman other men would give anything for. He knows that he can show how totally you belong to him by verbally and physically humiliating you.”

“In public, you mean?”

“I mean, Mrs. Sconzo, that tomorrow afternoon a package will arrive for you. In it will be a new gown created by your mother-in-law. The package will also contain a few other things.” He paused to sip his wine. She sat silently watching him. “At nine o’clock a limousine will be in your driveway. It will be yours and Richie’s for the night. The driver is in the employ of Mr. Satomi, you remember him from the wedding?”

Yes.” She felt a clutch of fear and, again, the hot rush of excitement. “He’s the wealthy Japanese. I remember him.”

“The driver’s name is Abul. He’s an old-line Pakistani. He has absolutely no regard for women, especially American women.”

“What must I do?”

“The driver has instructions. You need only dress provocatively and go wherever the driver takes you.” He smiled across at her. “When you meet your husband you must do what you promised. Do you remember what that was?”

“Obey.”

“Yes, whatever Richie demands, you will do.”

“In public?”

“Yes, in public.”

To be seen with Richie, to subject herself to his abuse in public places, to watch the expressions on the faces of strangers, to see their initial shock change to disgust...it seemed more than she would be able to stand. She stared down into the wineglass she held with both hands. “What sort of demands have you suggested to Richie?” she asked.

“I prefer not to say. But be assured Richie will want continuing and absolute proof that you are what you have said you are.”

“His woman.”

“Precisely, Richie’s woman...Richie’s affectionate and submissive woman. That is what you are isn’t it, Mrs. Sconzo?”

“Yes, Mr. Stein, that is what I am.”

“I thought so.” He sat thoughtfully for a moment looking across at her. “Something happened just after the wedding ceremony didn’t it?”

She finished what was left in her glass before answering. “Yes, you’re right. You seem always to be right. I don’t know how or what, but something terrible happened. I thought...I hoped and prayed it was temporary, but it isn’t. I truly am his woman and he knows that.”

“Completely his, not like it was between you and me?”

“In our relationship, Mr. Stein, there has always been a way out for me. I knew I could say ‘no’. I had a choice. When Richie grabbed me after the ceremony I realized that with him there would never be a choice. I knew in that terrible moment that I had given myself over to this repulsive, mindless, pathetic excuse for a man. Both he and I realized that I would do whatever he demanded.”

“You are afraid?”

“Yes, more than you can imagine, and I hate myself. I hate what I do and what I have become. I’ve given up trying to figure out why. There is probably some truth to the things you said earlier this evening, but they don’t explain my...my absolute subjection. Sometimes reason and logic fail us. I have surrendered unconditionally to Richie and that’s just the way it is.”

Stein leaned back and looked at her for a long time. “You should never have invited me here that first time. And later you should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“Yes, but it’s too late now.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Strange,” he said, “very strange.” He leaned forward and patted her knee, “Well now, about tomorrow. Be ready at nine o’clock. I suggest you get some rest. It promises to be a long night with no small measure of surprises.” He rose. Kathy held his coat and accompanied him to the door. A cab was in the driveway. “Unusually cold for this time of year,” Stein looked up at the full moon.

“Mr. Stein,” Kathy said hesitantly, “one thing more.” He turned toward her. “The Japanese who was at the wedding, Mr...Mr...”

“Satomi,” Stein said.

“Why was he there? He seemed so...so indifferent.”

Stein smiled, “He was there, Mrs. Sconzo, because he is a very, very rich and powerful man and had asked to be invited. Let’s just say he appreciates the dramatic and artistic dimensions of contrasts.” He looked up at the moon again then back at her. “I can assure you he was not indifferent, Mrs. Sconzo.” He turned his back on her and walked slowly toward the cab.

The next afternoon, as Stein had promised, a package was delivered. She took it into her bedroom and spread its contents out on the bed. The ankle length skirt was made of gray silk. As she had expected, it was slit up the front almost to her crotch. She realized that with each step she took the full length of her bare legs would be revealed. Next, she lifted from the box a tailored shirt of pale peach nylon. She held it up and was not surprised to see that it was shear enough to be almost transparent. In the box, under the shirt was a wide leather belt and a pair of gray leather pumps with what appeared to be five-inch heels. She also removed a gray silk cape that fastened at the neck with a silver clasp. She held it up and saw that it would hang in graceful folds to the floor. At the bottom of the box she found her velvet covered leather collar. There was also a note from Stella.

“Mr. Stein suggests you use heavy make-up, rouge your nipples, oil and perfume your lovely body, and apply a bit of KY. He said that I was to tell Mrs. Sconzo that she is to dress and behave in ways that will make every man who sees her quite envious of her husband. The limo driver will have an envelope containing further instructions. Read them before you leave. Of course you know that you are not to wear anything except what is in the box. Remember...bare legs, bare breasts, and a newly shaved pussy!”

Kathy had made appointments to have her hair cut and styled, her pubic area shaved and waxed, her nails done, and a pedicure. In the past, preparations like these were undertaken because she not only wanted to please herself but also to please Jeff and recently, perhaps, to win a compliment from Stein. But Richie, as Stein so often reminded her, was oblivious to her looks. He knew that because she belonged to him others regarded him differently. He also understood that his only way to prove she was his woman was to humiliate her.

She was certain that tonight in public places he would embarrass and debase her. She knew she would accept his abuse without protest. She knew she would submit abjectly to whatever obscene demands her new husband made of her. She’d given up trying to find ways to justify her behavior. Things were what they were. She had surrendered herself to a deformed half-wit. She was his, and that was that.

She wasn’t exactly sure what Stein had meant by “heavy” make-up, but she assumed he wanted her to look theatrical rather than whorish. She blackened and extended the thin line of her eyebrows and used a black mascara on her long lashes. Meticulously, she applied a violet eye shadow feathering it out under the arch of her brows. She touched her pale cheeks lightly with rouge and rubbed a darker color on her nipples, which stiffened, under her touch. She took particular care with her mouth, first exaggerating the fullness of her lips with a bright red lipstick, then coating them with a shiny gloss. Finally, she rubbed her body with perfumed oil and applied the KY. She pushed a finger into her anal opening, which was still painfully sore from the last time Richie had taken her there. She was sure that the night would once more end with his spittle spraying her naked back, his dirty fingernails digging into her hips, and his filthy cock deep inside her anus. She forced the thought out of her mind.

The clothes Stella had made fit perfectly. Although under the transparent shirt Kathy’s breasts were clearly visible, she found that the cape would cover them. However, the cape, which clasped at her neck, was open to the floor. Slipping her feet into the impossibly high heels, she took a few unsteady steps before her full-length mirror and saw that it would be impossible to cover her bare legs. With each step they could be seen almost to the tops of her thighs. The floor length skirt was cut in such a way so that if she sat down even a slight spreading of her knees would reveal her shaved pussy. In the mirror she could see that it was already moist. She buckled the collar around her neck.

At precisely nine o’clock a long white limousine glided into Kathy’s driveway. The chauffeur did not get out to open the door for her. She was still unsteady on the high heels. The weather had turned colder, and the wind flared both the cape and her skirt. Although the driver had been watching her, the glimpse of his face she got showed no emotion. She was grateful for the warmth of the car and sank back in the soft leather seat, careful to keep her knees together. Without turning around or saying anything, the driver reached back over his shoulder to hand her an envelope. He touched a switch on the dashboard and a light came on above her head. Stein’s instructions had been typed but were not signed.

“Mrs. Sconzo,

Welcome to your first night on the town with your new husband. As I mentioned, the driver’s name is Abul. He will take you to the Triangle Club in the city. No doubt you’ve been there before. Very upper class, sophisticated, elegant, and expensive. Just the place to demonstrate your deep and unconditional love for your new husband. Richie will arrive about fifteen minutes after you. While you are waiting, I suggest you go to the bar. Use your charm, as well as your body, to interest a single man or, perhaps, even two. When Richie arrives I suggest you let your admirers and others who might be watching see that you are, indeed, Richie’s woman. Be demonstrative, and affectionate. Make Richie feel like a ‘big’ man! Richie will, of course, make some demands. Since you are, as you say, ‘his woman’, I expect you will obey quickly and willingly. Yes?”

To herself she said, “I’m not sure.” The idea of Richie commanding her in public sickened her. With Stein, there was always the comforting thought that she could just walk away. Now, considering the unexplainable hold Richie had on her, she felt there was nothing to be done except submit. For a moment she considered getting out of the car before this night began. If she did, her grotesque husband would be left standing around in the lobby of the Triangle Club where, after a few minutes, the doorman would throw him into the street.

She noticed Abul was watching her in the rearview mirror. She folded Stein’s note and put it in the pocket of her cape.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked somewhat annoyed.

“Spread knees,” the driver said.

“No,” she answered. “You are very much out of line.” She reached for the door handle.

“A mistake,” he said and, before she could open the door, he began to back down the driveway. Forty minutes later they pulled in front of the canopy of the Triangle Club. She let herself out and, holding the cape together against the wind, walked the short distance to the entrance where the doorman opened the heavy door for her.

The long, dark bar was to the right of the softly lit dining room, separated from it by an oak partition and etched glass panels. Surprisingly, the bar was almost empty. A couple who appeared to be in their sixties sat at the far end. Near the middle was a tall distinguished looking gentleman with graying hair. Several stools down from him sat a well-dressed man closer to her own age.

He reminded her of Jeff. In the past, she and Jeff would sometimes meet here. They would have a drink at this bar and then linger over a romantic dinner, comfortable with each other and happy. Perhaps over dinner they might start planning a winter vacation: Key West, Saint Barts, Puerta Vallarta? Then home to bed, and tomorrow would be a lazy Sunday watching football in the afternoon, maybe guests for dinner.

But the husband meeting her here tonight would not be Jeff. The thought of Richie shuffling through this elegant place made her want to scream. She imagined sitting next to him at one of the tables: low lights, flowers, linen, real silver, a leather bound menu, extensive wine list, impeccable waiters, and the large room filled with intelligent people, well mannered, tastefully dressed. Soon, she and her new husband would be among them. The diners would stare for a moment, then look away. She saw herself: her bare legs, her long skirt slit almost to her crotch, her breasts with their rouged nipples hidden now by her cape but clearly visible under her shear blouse. She imagined Richie here. She saw the spittle seep from the corner of his lopsided mouth, heard his loud nasal stutter, his obscene language. She felt his cold hand on her thigh, his long dirty fingernails digging into her flesh. It was too much.

She hesitated and turned back toward the entrance. Reaching down to pull the front of her cape together, she noticed the black iron band on the finger where she’d so recently worn Jeff’s ring. She felt her cheeks grow warm and a wave of heat flow downward to her cunt. She stepped into the bar area.

What had been Stein’s instructions? She was to sit next to a stranger at the bar and get him interested. When Richie came for her, she was to show her affection in ways that would let everyone see she was Richie’s woman.

She slid up onto the padded barstool next to the older gentleman. When she let go of the cape, it parted revealing her thighs and the fact that her legs were bare. She kept her knees tightly pressed together, and hooked her high heels over the bottom rung of the stool. Both men as well as the bartender and the old couple had been watching her. She ordered a glass of chardonnay.

The tall man next to her smiled, “I’m glad you changed your mind,” he said.

“Changed my mind?”

“Yes, you came in here like a splendid vision from some other world and for a moment it seemed as if you’d decided to go back to it again.”

Kathy laughed. “That’s true. I mean the part about almost leaving.” He was deeply tanned and ruggedly handsome, looking, she thought, a bit like Clint Eastwood.

The younger man lifted his glass in their direction. “We are both glad you changed your mind,” he said.

Kathy nodded to him, “Thank you.” She turned to the man on her left, “And thank you, too.”

“I’m Roger,” the man next to her said, and held out his hand.

The younger man quickly moved down to sit on her right. “And I’m Glenn,” he said.

“And you are?” Roger asked.

“Kathy,” she said

“Well, Kathy,” he smiled down at her, “you certainly add a large measure of grace and beauty to the stuffy old Triangle Club.”

“I’ll second that,” Glenn said. “You are without a doubt the prettiest sight I’ve seen today.”

Kathy blushed. For a moment she felt good about being here, about being attractive to these handsome men, about the quick and easy way the conversation had begun. She felt good about being in the company of familiars. “You gentlemen are very kind,” she said.

“And what is such a lovely, refined young lady like you doing out alone on a Saturday night?” Roger questioned.

“Well, I might ask what are two handsome gentlemen like you doing out alone on a Saturday night.” She crossed her ankles, the tip of her shoe brushing against Roger’s trousers. He glanced down. She pointed her toe and smiled at him.

“I’m from New York,” he said. “Just a lonely business man with a comfortable suite of rooms in the Sheraton overlooking Pittsburgh’s Golden Triangle.”

Glenn signaled the bartender to bring them another round even though Kathy’s glass was still almost full. “And I’m recently divorced,” he said, “and rattling around in a big beautiful Victorian house in Forest Hills.”

Roger shifted so his leg pressed lightly against hers. “I don’t suppose you would grant myself and Glenn here the privilege of treating you to dinner?”

“And afterwards,” Glenn laughed, “maybe, just maybe helping one of us be a little less lonely on this lonely Saturday night?”

Kathy sipped her wine. Then carefully putting down her glass, she looked up at them. “Maybe both,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, my God!” Glenn said. “Both, you mean ...?”

“No, no...,” Kathy interrupted, frowning. The moment was gone. “I...I...was just teasing. The fact is, I’m...I’m waiting for...for someone.”

“Of course. It figures,” Glenn said, “a woman as stunning as you has to be spoken for.”

Kathy’s cape had parted enough so that the outline of her breasts could be seen through the shear blouse. She was aware that Roger had noticed. However, she made no effort to pull the cape together. Here, Kathy thought, are two good men: handsome, articulate, interesting, rich, available, and she knew she could have her pick, not just for tonight but possibly for a relationship that would become permanent...maybe marriage, a normal life. If she didn’t acknowledge Richie when he arrived, if she pretended not to know him, they would throw him out. She’d be free.

“This man you’re waiting for must certainly be a paragon,” Roger was saying, attractive, young, strong, wise beyond his years, witty, wealthy, and charming. “Tell us, is he a famous athlete, a rising CEO, a brilliant physician, a renowned artist? Just who is this most fortunate of men?”

Before Kathy could answer, they heard a commotion at the front door. After a moment, Richie appeared and made his way along the bar, dragging his left foot and muttering to himself. She saw that under a shabby raincoat several sizes too big for him, he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn at their wedding. The bartender put down the glass he’d been drying and started toward him.

Kathy caught Richie’s eye and felt the familiar sinking sensation, then the sudden rush of heat. She glanced at the iron ring on her finger, which bound her to him in ways she could not understand but realized were irrevocable. “No,” Kathy said quickly, “it’s all right. Please don’t.” She slid off the stool and looked directly at Richie, forcing a tight smile.

He glared at her for a moment then reached out a grimy hand to tug at her cape. “T...ta...take it off,” he grunted. The two men had turned around to watch. The bartender still appeared as if he were ready to throw Richie out. The old couple whispered to each other. Kathy, her back to the men, undid the clasp at her neck. The cape slid down, and she draped it over her arm.

“There, Richie,” she said.

“Sh...sh...show your fu...fu...fuckin’ tits,” he gestured with his head toward the bar. Kathy felt the color rise to her cheeks and felt her nipples stiffen. Keeping her eyes lowered, she turned to face the men.

“Jesus, she’s wearing a collar,” Glenn said.

Roger stood up, “Kathy, if you need help...” he began.

She shook her head, still looking down at the floor.

Glenn had taken a step toward them, “This asshole can’t be your date?” he asked.

“He’s my husband,” Kathy said quietly.

“Yeah,” Richie sneered, “th...th...this cockteaser be...be...belongs to m...m...me.” His mouth was wet with spittle. He gripped Kathy’s arm. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yes, Richie. I belong to you.”

“Nh...nh...how show your sha...sha...shaved cunt,” Richie ordered.

She turned to him, “Please Richie...don’t...” she pleaded.

“G...g...goddamn it, do what I fu...fu...fuckin’ say,” he spat at her.

She nodded and turned back to face the three men. With her head still bowed, she reached down and parted the split skirt and inched it up to reveal her pussy. The men stared for a moment in shocked silence, then the bartender, angry and red faced, pointed to the door. “Get out, both of you, and don’t come back!” he yelled.

Richie fished in his coat pocket and withdrew a thin silver leash that he gave to Kathy. She clipped it to the small ring in the collar and handed the other end to him aware, once more, of the warm wetness between her legs.

Richie glared that the bartender, “Fu...fu...fuck you,” he said.

Kathy followed three steps behind her husband. Richie permitted himself a sly grin. Things were looking up. Stein had been right. She would do whatever he told her. He thought back to all the years before this one. He’d been neglected and abused by his parents, shunned and ridiculed by boys and girls his age. He’d been in special classes until he dropped out of school. Then there was that thing with the girls at the mall and afterwards reform school. Even there they laughed at him and smacked him around. But now it was different. He’d seen the look on the faces of the men at the bar when he told Kathy to show her tits and her cunt. He remembered how everyone applauded when he fucked his bride’s ass at the wedding. He thought about the night at Kathy’s fancy house and that skinny woman telling him what a man he was. What was it Stein had said, “When people see that your wife does exactly what you tell her, they’ll respect you.” Stein was always right about things like that.

He realized that the men at the bar were angry, but because his woman did what she was told, they were also jealous. It was a good start to the evening. He knew that things were going to get better, a lot better.

Instead of turning toward the dining room, he led Kathy to the heavy glass entrance doors. Behind him, he heard the sharp tap of her heels on the marble floor. Ahead, through the doors, he saw the limousine parked at the curb just as Stein said it would be.