THE LEATHER CLAM

Chapter Thirteen


We were lying in the bed of the most expensive honeymoon suite in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. It had been less than a week since we’d been married, and we had just finished another marathon sex session, this time in the bathtub. Sandie was lying in bed, her arms around me as I faced away from her. I was drifting off to sleep. “I have a confession to make” she whispered.

“I have a confession to make” she whispered. “Okay…” I said.

“I never told you how I made all that money to buy myself a new Camaro in high school.” A long pause.

“I used to sneak out of the house and tell my parents I was babysitting. Instead, I would catch a bus downtown and go to a bar. I had a fake ID and I was a dancer.” Silence.

“You mean, a stripper, or a go-go dancer?” I asked, confused.

“I was an exotic dancer” she said, laughing. “I was the best. I made over $1,000 most nights just dancing, a lot more on the other nights. I was the owner’s favorite. He really took me under his wing and looked after me.”

I thought about everything for a minute, remembering how funny and ugly Sandie’s high school photos that I’d seen were.

“What do you mean, the other nights?”

“Well, I got paid extra to make sure certain customers had a really good time. They paid me well. They knew I was only 15, so I was worth a lot more than the other girls were” she said, squeezing my hand.

“You mean, like, blowjobs? Serving them drinks? Private dances?” I asked. I thought about the old Sandie, with her big bulbous German nose, flat chest, and her wide set eyes. She looked like the average church-going good girl.

“No, silly” she laughed. “I fucked them! It wasn’t that big of a deal, they all had the smallest cocks and they came so fast. Especially when the owner told them how young I was. It was so taboo, it was such a turn on for them.”

I lay there in shock, listening to the ocean outside our window, and her hands on my chest suddenly felt cold and clammy. My stomach turned, as I thought of a young, dark-haired Sandie in bed with some old Italian guys in Long Island. I had married a prostitute, I thought. Literally.

“Oh God! I had to make money somehow! My parents wouldn’t ever buy my anything. They were so cheap, we never had anything nice.”

I was silent.

“Oh, boo-boo, come on” she said. “It was sooo long ago. I’ve been tested a bunch of times over the years.”

How comforting, I thought.

“Since when are you such a prude? For god sakes, you were a stripper when I met you!”

I got out of bed, and turned toward her. Her big, capsular contracture fake tit was sticking straight up on her chest, like an orange had been stuck under the age-weathered skin. I looked right into her glassy eyes. All of a sudden, I noticed how tired and nondescriptly ugly she was without all her makeup.

“I was NOT paid to sleep with the women. I went home every night and took care of my kids.

That’s the difference!”

I stormed out to the living area of the suite and sat on the couch, staring in disbelief. My mind was racing back and forth. I was angry, my body was hot, I felt betrayed, yet another part of me, this voice, kept saying don’t **** this up. This is not a big deal, this was so long ago. This is your chance to have everything you have ever wanted. Don’t **** it up.

After a few minutes, I walked back into the bedroom. Sandie was sitting there waiting for me. Just like she expected, I had come to my senses.

“I am sorry I overreacted. You are right. It’s not a big deal. I love you.” I leaned over and kissed her softly. She pulled me close and I got back into bed, straddling her wide open legs, her well worn leather clam. I knew what she wanted. I closed my eyes and thought of those two hot lesbians who liked to fight over my body…