High Velocity PSA Pt. 02

My salesman brought out my Orange Fury Mustang GT. It was gorgeous. He spent half an hour syncing the Bluetooth, explaining the controls, electronics, the phone app, collision avoidance, adaptive cruise control, lane keeping, and more. I didn't need any of those features, but I wanted a car with immediate delivery, and that's what they had. "Go easy on the power. This baby's a little faster than your Subaru."

I threw my knapsack in the trunk, adjusted the seat and mirrors, plugged in my phone, and turned it off. I didn't want to speak to anyone, but I wasn't hiding. It was about a day and a half's drive to Colorado. I headed west, trying not to go more than twenty miles an hour over the speed limit.

September 26

"Barbara!"

Barbara was just outside the walkway from Mike's building. She turned towards the voice, to see Lisa walking quickly to catch up to her.

"What's up with you and Mike, Barbara?"

"Nothing's up, we're friends."

"There's more than that, Barbara. I keep on seeing you walking to work from his building."

"There's nothing going on, Lisa." Barbara resumed walking.

"I may drink too much sometimes, Barbara, but I'm not a drunk and I'm not stupid. You're always hovering around each other at work, or when we go out after."

"I tell you, there's nothing going on. We're friends, that's it. Ethan has had some health issues that are hard to deal with, and Mike has been comforting me, helping me cope."

Lisa snorted. "Yeah, 'hard' to deal with, after prostate surgery. Mike sure gets pretty hard. He's a fantastic fuck, wouldn't you agree?"

"How dare you!" Barbara tried to slap Lisa, but wasn't fast enough. Lisa grabbed her wrist.

"Mike and I were friends with benefits for about six months. Even though we both agreed that it wasn't an exclusive arrangement, he wouldn't date other women while we were together. He's a wonderful man, kind and sensitive to others. He needs someone permanent in his life. I knew it wasn't me, so I ended it."

"I don't need to know this, Lisa."

"You need to end it with him, Barbara, whatever it is. You have a lifetime commitment. You have a good career, grown children and a husband who adores you. Give Mike a chance to have his life. He won't do it as long as he's with you. I know him, Barbara."

"He's not with me, and there's nothing—"

"Don't give me that bullshit, you hot cockteaser. It seems I'm not the only one who knows about you."

Barbara's shoulders sagged. Her voice shrank to little more than a whisper. "I have no idea who the lady in the restaurant was or why she said that."

"What guy sent his love?"

"I don't know. Let's go in to work."

"Barbara, we're friends. I know I'm a lot younger than you, but it seems to me that if you're having a hard time because of your husband's health issues, you should be spending more time with him, not Mike."

"Lisa..." Tears started running down Barbara's cheeks.

"What?"

"Why am I..." Barbara took a deep breath, then turned her head as if searching for someone.

"Nothing... I have to go to work." She resumed walking.

September 27

I indulged myself at the hotel's breakfast buffet with waffles and syrup, ignoring the fresh fruits and high-fiber cereals. Cream and sugar in my coffee instead of skim milk and Splenda. I went back to my room, rinsed my mouth, brushed my hair, and turned on my phone to check yesterday's messages.

"Ethan, we never see each other. You're asleep by the time I get home, gone by the time I get up. I miss you, lover. Maybe I should ask you out on a date, so we can spend some time together. What did Dr. Capra say? Weren't you supposed to see him? Give me a call, sweetie. I'll have my cel phone on at work, so call any time. Love you."

I deleted it. The next message was from Tina.

"That wasn't necessary, Ethan, but thanks. I won't try to talk you out of doing what you've already done. The car will make my life a lot easier. Why did you do it? I hope you're not planning anything stupid. Mr. Starr told me you bought a new car, so I presume you're not going to off yourself over Barbie. A person doesn't need a new car for that. Anyways, give me a call, or come by the club. I want to give you another erection. This time maybe I'll pay you for it. Take care. I'm worried about you. Call me soon."

I deleted that one too. The other calls were from my kids, asking how I am, and from Smithson, saying my report is fantastic, and based on it he's decided to move forward with Circle One. "We're both going to enjoy the fruits of this development. There's one entry that I don't understand, forty thousand dollars for miscellaneous promotion. You'll explain it to me when we have time."

Starr's message confirmed that Tina had picked up the Subaru, and everything had gone smoothly. "A fine looking young lady," his message concluded. The tone implied that she was some kind of bimbo or gold-digger that I was rewarding. That wasn't true. Tina Patel was a stripper who charged me a thousand dollars for two hours of sex. I could fall in love with her if I had more time, if I wasn't more than twice her age, if I wasn't married. Scratch that last one.

I stopped at a convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes. I wasn't worried about getting lung cancer, since I already had it. I lit up, took a puff, and collapsed, coughing onto the ground. The clerk came outside with some water, and I was able to get control of my breathing. I tossed the rest of the pack into the trash.

It was early afternoon when I got into the foothills; it would take another couple of hours to reach my destination. Lunch had been fast food. I didn't want to waste time, because there wasn't much of it left in my life.

I turned off the interstate. Barbara and I had traveled this road together when we first got married. We drove slowly along the two lane highway, marvelling at the spectacular vistas, admiring the snow-capped peaks, the deer grazing on the slopes. We had trembled as we slowly drove along the narrow, winding road, past unprotected cliffs set alongside hairpin turns. There was one curve in particular I remembered, where the road had no shoulder as it hugged the side of a protrusion from the mountain. There were soaring heights to one side, emptiness on the other. My powerful V-8 mocked the steep incline as I climbed the mountain like a roller coaster. My excitement was building. The speed limit was thirty in places, twenty at others. At some curves it was fifteen. When Barbara and I first did this road, it was at a steady fifteen, ignoring all the honking behind us. This time, out of respect for those drivers I did not tailgate or honk when I came up to cars doing less than the forty I wanted to hold to.

I shivered when the road went through a short tunnel. My destination was just ahead. My body tensed as I approached the peak. I had the anticipation of the climb and was eager to have my roller-coaster rush as I flew down the mountain. The sign said twenty, my speedometer said fifty. I didn't want to go off too soon, where the edge was protected by a railing. My release, my orgasm was just around the bend. My tires complained, my back wheels skittered as I whipped around the hairpin turn. Now! I jammed the wheel all the way to the right and put the petal to the metal.

Shit! The engine cut out and the brakes engaged by themselves. The tires screeched, the car spun around, rocking as it if was going to roll over, and settled down on the runoff pan that had been built for drivers who weren't going to make the turn. There was a high fence that had triggered the collision avoidance system, that had stopped the car from going off the cliff, that had stopped me from having a complete orgasm before I died.

I got out of the car, put my hands on my knees, and gasped for breath. A driver going the other way rolled down her window to ask if I was okay. I told her I was fine, thanks. I walked over to the fence, spotting an easy way to climb around. It had been designed to stop cars, not people.

No. The moment had passed. I had missed the "orgasm." Why did I call it that anyways? It was suicide. A spectacular suicide to be sure, but really nothing more. I no longer wanted to drive off the mountainside. Funny, it was like masturbation: as soon as I climaxed, turning the steering wheel towards death, I no longer had the urge. Maybe life was the orgasm, not death.

A State Trooper pulled onto the runoff pan. "Is there a problem sir?"

"No, I felt a little winded from the change in elevation and needed to catch my breath."

"Do you need transportation to a hospital?"

"No, no, not a hospital. I'll be fine."

"I'll follow behind to make sure you're okay. If you need assistance, put on your flashers and pull over. Are you going north or south?"

I had been heading north. "South," I said. I got into my Mustang and turned towards home.

September 28

Breakfast was assorted fruits, cottage cheese, a hard-boiled egg, and a cup of tea. No cigarettes. I went to a Wal-Mart to buy basic toiletries, fresh underwear and a new shirt. I hadn't packed more than one change of clothes, not expecting to need more than that. I went back to my hotel room, brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and turned on my phone. All the calls were from the previous day.

"Ethan, I'm sorry. It was so long ago, so stupid of me. Please, come back home. Don't leave me." Barbara must have found the photo that replaced our wedding picture.

"Ethan, Tina. Where are you? Call."

"Mr. Abbot, this is Dr. Capra's office calling. You missed your eleven o'clock appointment yesterday. The doctor would like to see you right away. He has a unique treatment protocol to propose. Please call back as soon as possible."

"Ethan, it's Smithson. Edgerton doesn't want to give you such a big piece of the project. They would rather give you a smaller share, but you would not have to have it carried in. It would be yours right at the start, with no liabilities. They're sending a proposal. Run the numbers and let me know what you think. I told them that if you're not satisfied, they're out. I need you in order to make this project work."

"Mr. Abbot, it's Joan Worthing. The divorce papers are ready to be served. Do you want to proceed?"

I called the doctor's office back and made an appointment for two o'clock on the twenty-ninth. The secretary passed along his suggestion that I bring my wife.

I stuffed my few possessions into the knapsack, checked out and headed to my car. High winds made a light drizzle feel like heavy rain. The weather was no match for the power of my car so I ignored it, keeping a steady ninety-five miles per hour, traffic allowing.

I was in an upbeat mood and didn't understand why. I was soon going to die a slow and difficult death. My loving wife turns out to have been a liar and cheat. My two kids, whom I had devoted so much of life to, showed little interest in my well-being. Even my suicide was a failure. Except for a stripper who gave me a few hours of paid sex, I felt alone. It felt good. I turned the satellite radio to an oldies station and cruised down the highway, the windshield wipers doing their rhythmic dance, ignoring the beat of the music. I would also ignore the beat, the rhythm of my cancer. Eventually it would overwhelm me, but until then, screw it.

Barbara was supposed to be working today according to her schedule, but I still drove slowly by the house a couple of times to see if there was any sign of her being home. There wasn't. It was too early to find Tina at the club, so I warmed up some leftovers, made a coffee, and booted up my computer. There were about seventy e-mails, most of which I ignored. I replied to Worthing, asking her to hold off for now with the papers. Barbara was a good nurse. If I was going to have her take care of me as I went downhill, it would be better if she had authority as next of kin. I also asked Worthing to prepare a living will, naming Barbara. Trust didn't matter here. If I was dying, unable to respond and she decided to pull the plug, that would be fine. Barbara wasn't a cruel person as far as I knew. She would not make me suffer. Then again, as far as I knew Barbara hadn't become a stripper for Guy.

I shut down my laptop, cleaned up from my supper, and got dressed appropriately for a "Gentlemen's Club." At first glance there was no evidence someone had been in the house, but a second glance would show that someone had made himself at home there. I got to the club a little after nine, parking next to a blue Mustang convertible.

Alicia greeted me as if we were old friends. "Nice to have you back, Ethan." She gave me a peck on the cheek. I was impressed that she remembered my name.

"Thanks. Uh, is Tina working tonight?"

"She's here, but with customers. A couple of nurses came in a few minutes ago, and she's sitting with them." Alicia pointed to a table at the far end of the club, set back from the stage. "Would you like a different dancer?"

Tina was actually standing in front of them. She was dressed in a revealing outfit, but rather than performing an erotic dance, it looked like she was berating her customers. Judging from the hair, the nurses were a man and a woman. Judging from the hair, judging from the scrubs, the woman was my wife, Barbara. Tina said something, and Barbara clutched at the man's arm. It wasn't a sexual touch; it looked more like panic.

Why was Barbara out at a strip club with a man while in uniform? Has her heavy schedule been dates rather than work? The question kicked my analytical mind into gear. It didn't kick my emotions into gear; at this point I didn't really care about Barbie. It was more like a difficult sudoku puzzle.

Tina headed towards the bar, no doubt to get the happy couple the overpriced drinks they ordered. She spotted me as she headed back, and winked.

Barbara had her forehead on the man's arm. It looked like she was crying. Did he just break up with her? It occurred to me that he might dump Barbara for Tina; that I would not allow. Tina was mine. They were both strippers and sluts, but one was honest about it.

I, on the other hand am a liar. I felt my stomach twisting in knots from Barbara's apparent misery. Or maybe the knot was a function of the cancers. Tina detoured to my table, bent down and stuck her tongue into my mouth for a moment. It was enough of a diversion to catch the attention of Barbie and her boy toy. She screamed my name, and started to rise, but the guy held her back.

I had described a dry orgasm to Tina as being in one place, then suddenly being in another place without being anywhere in between. I had been at one end of the bar, but now I was instantly standing next to Barbara's table without having been anywhere in-between. At least that's how it seemed to me.

"Get your hands off my wife," I growled. He stood up beside her, and I calculated that if he wanted, it would probably take him all of ten seconds to kill me.

The bouncer was suddenly between the man and me. I calculated that if he wanted it would probably take the bouncer all of ten seconds to kill the boy toy.

"No, no, I just don't want anyone to hurt her," he said. "Barbara is terrified because of what she did to you."

That diffused my anger a bit. He stuck out his hand. "Mike Riley. It's an honor to meet someone whom Barbara loves so much." That diffused my anger a little more, but also confused me. If she loved me so much why did she lie to me about serious, important matters? Why was there a naked picture of her and Guy?

"Are you people okay? Are we going to have any trouble here?"

"We're okay," I said, ignoring Mike's hand.

Tina confirmed it with a nod. "Is Guy's office available? Maybe we could move our party to a more private place."

The bouncer checked his phone. "No one's got it tonight. Who's paying?"

"Put it on my tab; I'll collect from my customers." She turned to Mike. "First you have to order another round of drinks."

He pointed at his and Barbara's drinks on Tina's tray.

"You have to order fresh drinks for Guy's office."

Barbara handed Tina her credit card and asked for repeats on what they had. Tina winked at me, then walked off towards the bar. Mike, Barbie and I stood in awkward silence as the bouncer concluded we were indeed harmless.

Tina returned with the drinks and led us to the door. "Okay, into the office."

Barbara hesitated, unable to propel herself through.

"You know what's in there, don't you, Barbie? You're afraid to see it. Or you don't want Mike to see it; he may change his opinion of you. Don't worry about Ethan. He's already seen what's in there. But... you haven't been worrying about Ethan for a long time. He loved you too much to deserve your attention." Tina grabbed Barbie's arm and yanked her inside.

Mike reached for Tina, to protect Barbie.

"Touch me, Mike, and the bouncer comes right in and breaks your arm. Maybe I'll break it myself, just because I can."

Tina was dressed as a stripper, but at the moment she resembled a hand grenade. She was daring Mike to pull the pin. "Sit!" She pointed them at the couch. Mike and Barbara looked at each other and obeyed.

"Tina, what are you doing?" She was scaring me.

"Ethan, my wonderful man, you taught me the meaning of real love when you refused to slip your hard cock into me, because of your devotion to your wife."

Barbara started shivering at those words.

Tina put her arm around my waist. She glared at Barbara. "How many times did you fuck him?" She pointed at Mike.

"That's none of your business," Mike said.

"Shut up and go stand over there." She pointed at the wall of fame, staring daggers at him. "Now." Mike went over and looked at the photos.

"Well? How many times?"

"I didn't want Ethan to find out. I don't want to humiliate him."

Tina smirked. "Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides."

My stripper was quoting King Lear. That surprised me.

"Three."

I was astonished. Not that my wife fucked Mike three times, but rather that Tina had figured it out. How? She also knew what I was wondering. "Sex is my business. I recognized the way they act with each other," she whispered in my ear.

Barbara sniffled. "Ethan, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to hurt you."

Tina was relentless. "And worse I may be yet: the worst is not, so long as we can say 'This is the worst.'"

More King Lear.

"How many times with Guy?"

"Never, never!"

Tina continued to fire at her. "I know his reputation, Barbie. Once he had his fat cock out and you naked, you had no chance."

"No, I gave him a hand job. Nothing more."

"You fucked Mike, you jerked off Guy... Anyone else?"

"No, I truly love Ethan. I've made mistakes, I know I'm an idiot."

Mike turned from the photos. "The course of true love never did run smooth."

Tina's face lit up with a grin. "We're doing King Lear, not A Midsummer Night's Dream. Get with the script." I laughed. Smithson had a subscription to the Shakespeare Festival. I should get Tina tickets.

"Barbara, do you want Ethan back? You know you lost him," Tina said.

"Is it possible?"

Tina turned to me. I shrugged.

"Ethan, I owe you a thousand dollars."

"What are you trying to pull?"

She squeezed my hand. "We made a deal. You would pay me a thousand dollars to have an erection, so you could make love with your wife. You haven't done that, and the way it looks now, you never will. We have to change that for me fulfill my end of the deal."

"What do you want from me?"

"You seemed to enjoy yourself the first time in this room. Right?"

"Until I saw picture number forty-three it was ecstasy."

"We're going to repeat the ecstasy part, but this time, you're going all the way, with the girl from picture forty-three. You're going to do more than have sex with her. You are going to make love with your wife, and you're going to put all the affection from your decades together into it." She turned to Mike. "Please wait outside. This is going to be kind of intimate."