C is for Cookie

"Listen. Dave. Ordinarily, I'd sit here and flirt, maybe play with your hair or the buttons on your shirt, and I'd ask you if you'd like to take me back to the private rooms for a dance. But I can smell a broken heart from a mile away." Her voice betrayed a hint of southern twang, maybe from Tennessee or Kentucky. "I promise, I can help. That's what I do. That's why I'm here. I'm sure you know all the girls here use stage names. My name is actually Cookie. Cookie Deathridge."

"Cookie? Is that a real name?"

"Shhhh. Yes. And I only share it here with people I can trust, because I need them to trust me. I'll show you my ID later, with my real name and real address. I'll do that because you're clearly not a predator. You're the type of guy who never comes into places like this. You're only here because you've been hurt, you feel alone, and you don't know what to do. I can see it, and you need my help. Some people rescue cats or volunteer at the soup kitchen. I heal broken hearts. Your wife really did a number on you, didn't she?"

"I... um. Yes. Is it that obvious?"

"It is to me. It's written all over your face. And look at your hand." She took my left hand and held it palm-up. "You have calluses here, and here," touching the edges of where my wedding ring would have been, "and the skin here in between is smooth. Your ring has barely ever left your hand, not for years, and it hasn't been off for very long. Did it happen tonight?"

"Yeah." I'd left my ring in the car. I'd wondered if Steph had taken hers off as well while she was with Lee. Probably not. She thought nothing of betraying our marriage with her body. Why would she even think of her ring?

She took my other hand. "You're right-handed. Let me look." The light wasn't great, but she found what she was looking for. "Your Love Line is broken. There's a discontinuity. And here... looks like you've got two kids. A boy and a girl. Twins?"

"My God. How did you do that?"

"Am I wrong?"

"No. No, you got it. Mike and Jessica. They're off at college."

"Good for them. Good for you."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No, I mean it. You've done a good job as a father. Where are they going to school?"

"Mike's away at State, studying architecture. Jessica stayed local, but she's living in the dorms on campus. She wanted the college experience. She's a psych major."

Cookie nodded, looking at me more closely. A gentle "hmmm" came out under her breath. She rose from my lap and guided me by the hand to a hallway at the edge of the room. "Listen. I'm taking you private. There are rules, but don't worry about that right now. It's twenty for a dance, or fifty for three. The curtain stays closed, and there's a camera for security but it doesn't record. Jerry will go over the rules with you, but you're a Special Case, and I won't actually be dancing." She nodded towards a man behind something like a bank teller's window once we were around the corner. "Give the money to him, and the house will pay me. You can tip extra if you like once we're inside. Don't worry about that right now. You and I have more important work to do. It might take a while."

"Work to do?"

"You need to tell me your story. Get it out of your system. I'm going to listen, make sure you know that you're a good man in spite of all of everything she did, and convince you that any woman would be lucky to have you. Then, I'm going to use allll my talents to make you feel better." She kissed me chastely on the cheek and stepped back, still holding my hands. "I'm going to go get changed for our little party. I'll meet you in room three in just a few minutes. Go talk to Jerry." She looked over my shoulder at him, nodded, and made a weird gesture with her hand- she curled her fingers as if she was grasping something, twisted her wrist and tapped her hand between her breasts three times, then she skipped away to where the dressing room must have been, maybe with a little more swing in her hips than was strictly necessary.

"You're... Jerry, I guess?" I asked the guy.

"It's fifty bucks for three dances, fifty more for another three, and on like that." He rattled it off in a robotic monotone, saying the same thing dozens of times a night and barely conscious of it any more. "The lady may have given you the impression that the purpose of this encounter is to provide you an orgasm but that is not the case. Do not have an orgasm. Do not touch the lady's labia, clitoris, vagina, or anus. Do not allow your penis to be exposed. Do not harm, threaten to harm, or endanger the lady in any way. Do not use force or the threat of force in any way. Any inappropriate behavior will have you immediately removed from these premises and no refunds will be offered. Do you understand these rules as I've explained them?"

"Er. Yes."

"Fifty." I handed him the money. He relaxed a little and spoke again, this time like we were friends.

"Cee has given me the sign that you're one of her Special Cases. I'm sorry to hear that, but it happens. This is your lucky day, though, she really can help. This time, and this time only, 'three songs' means you can be in there until she says you're done. Congratulations. Room three."

I pulled aside the curtain. It was less than a room, but more than a booth. There was a sturdy seat built into the wall, its back at a forty-five degree angle like a recliner, with something like a set of loops or handles near the top. A small end table held a pack of antibacterial wipes.

"Good. Just a moment." Cookie was behind me wearing nothing but two little valentine-shaped stickers over her nipples and a G-string which might as well have not been there at all. She was shaved smooth. She closed the curtain behind us, grabbed a wet wipe and turned her back to me to clean off the seat.

"Unbutton your shirt., and take everything out of your front pockets."

"Um. Okay. Why?"

"You really haven't done this a lot, have you? I'm going to be sitting on your lap as you lay back here and I don't want to be grinding against your keys or anything." Her hair had fallen to the side and for the first time, I noticed a three-inch tattoo between her shoulder blades. It was one of those Irish designs.

"Um. I like your tattoo. Does it have any special meaning?"

"It's called a Triquetra Knot. It's thousands of years old. Originally, it was meant to represent the Earth, the Sea, and the Sky. Maybe also Life, Death, and Rebirth. It's been used to invoke the three states of the divine feminine- Maiden, Mother, and Crone, and of course the christians co-opted it to represent the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But for me, it means something different."

"And what is that?"

"You'll have to guess. Don't waste your first guess now. You only get three tries, and you'd have to know me VERY well to even begin to figure it out. I have lots of friends I've known for years who haven't even come close. If you don't guess correctly, I'll never tell and you'll never know." She looked over her shoulder at me coquettishly. "No one has ever gotten it right."

She stood up, turned around, took my hands, and sat me down. "Relax. Take a few deep breaths, and let them out slowly." She pulled off her wig (that was a wig?) revealing her natural shoulder-length auburn hair, and pulled the valentine pasties off her nipples, which were paler than I expected. "I'm technically supposed to wear these, but they just get in the way for my Special Cases. Also, Jerry's got the camera turned off. The rest of the rules are the same, though. Just don't worry about it and let me drive."

She climbed onto my lap and ground her mons against my rock-hard dick, which was straining to peek out above my belt buckle.

"Oooh, that's nice," she cooed. She raised her fingers to my chin and nudged my head up to look me in the eye. She held it there, so our gazes were locked for a few seconds. Doing that with a stranger is an uncomfortable intimacy, and you'd try to look away... but she didn't let me. And then, after a few moments, we weren't strangers anymore. She looked right into my soul, and I looked into hers. Each of us eventually saw a little piece of ourselves staring back, from inside the other. Time seemed to stop, we were just in that moment, content, in the company of another body that was also part of the other's. Our breathing synchronized, and I felt her breasts and belly moving with mine against my naked chest, but it was an afterthought, a flesh-covered footnote to the temporary union of our being.

"You're okay, Dave. You're a good man."

Tears filled my eyes, unbidden.

"There's nothing wrong with you, nothing lacking. You're not perfect, you've got your flaws, just like I do, just like everyone does. But you're a good man. You're a good husband, a good father, a good son, and a good friend."

I was full-on crying again. Our breathing fell out of step, mine ragged with sobs.

"You don't deserve what's happened. It's not fair, and it's not right. I'm so, so sorry. You're a good man, you're a good person, and you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be treated better."

My eyes closed and I'd pressed my chin down against my neck as I convulsed in a heaving, choking meltdown. I hadn't wept this hard since I was a tiny child. I felt it wash out of me like floodwater, and Cookie just held me in a soft embrace and let me know she was there.

"That's right. Let it out. Let it all out."

After a while, the crying subsided, and I felt her move upwards on my body as she nudged my face against her breast. On its own, my mouth opened and was filled with her nipple. I actually began nursing on her.

She tasted like compassion.

I was starved for that.

"There you go. Good. Good. That feels good. Mmm Hmmm." She was stroking my hair as she was holding my head against her. "Take what you need, love. Take all you need." I did. After a timeless time, she said "The other one now. Don't want to be uneven." She switched breasts and I smelled perfume and honey on her skin, along with her natural musk. I nursed her right boob just like the left one. No milk or anything came out, but something... spiritual did.

I drank my fill and laid back against the seat, feeling more drunk than I'd been in years. The watered-down shots I'd had at the bar had done nothing for me, but the emotions I'd experienced and her simple human contact hit me like a freight train. Cookie settled back down and lay her head against my collarbone, her hair spread across my chest, her fingers cupping my pectoral. My heart beat against the palm of her hand.

"Tell me your story," she said, and my mouth fell open and the words came out. I wasn't in control of it. The story of Dave and Steph emerged, using me as its vessel. How we met at school. Our early dating life. The wedding. The birth of our twins. Buying our first home. Struggling with bills and schedules. My career, and hers. Then... the arrival of Lee Davenport into her life, her infatuation, and the deterioration and destruction of what I'd thought was a pretty good marriage. By the time I'd finished, the words were gone, the rage was a bubbling cauldron rather than an inferno, and the only expression left in me was a torrent of weeping.

"Good. That's good. Thank you for sharing yourself with me so well, Dave. You've done a magnificent job. You're so in touch with your feelings. And you have every right to all of them. You're right to feel the way you do. I know it hurts, Dave, but I promise we'll work on this. We'll make it right, no matter what it ends up looking like. Everything will be okay, eventually, even though it's all fucked up right now. I can't say how it'll happen, or what it'll take, or how your life is going to go after this- but It Will Happen. Understand?"

"Sure."

I felt her fingernails in my chest, like a cat milk-kneading on me.

"I'm serious, Jim. Serious as death. I know you think that this is just one night, one occasion you've paid for, and you believe that you and I will never see each other again after this. That's not true. I'm not just going to pet your head, say 'poor baby' and then forget all about you. That is not how I work. I don't give up on things like this. Ever. It's who I am. It's what I do. She'll get hers and he'll get his. I'll be with you all the way. I'm in your life now. Whatever it takes. Understand?"

I trembled, suddenly cold, then it was gone. She felt me nod, uncertainly.

"Say it out loud. I'm with you."

"You... you're with me."

"One more time. Do you hear me? Do you get it?"

"I... I hear you, Cookie."

"Good. Now just hold me. Just like that."

I did. Time stopped for a while. I didn't sleep. I wasn't awake, either. I was in a liminal state, hypnotized, in a moment that stretched out into forever. We might have lain like that for minutes, or hours, or days.

"You still love her," Cookie whispered.

"Of course I do."

"You don't know what you'll do without her."

"That's right."

"But you also don't know how you can be with her anymore."

"I don't know how I could even look at her."

"Mmmm. More clearly, I think. The wife you had before tonight is not going to look the same to you as the woman you'll see from now on. You'll see her more as she really is."

"That's for sure."

"Mmm Hmm. Hey, I get it. You're feeling directionless right now. Helpless. Like this has all happened so fast and there's been nothing you could do to stop it. It's out of your control. You thought you had everything figured out, but now your whole world's been turned inside out, like it's been an illusion all along."

"Pretty much."

"The good news is that nothing's changed. It still is what it has been. The only thing that's new is your awareness. Awareness is a good thing. You're awake to the reality of the situation. You have more power now than you had before."

"I suppose that's true."

"But you don't feel that way because you don't have a handle on your power. That's why you still feel helpless."

"God. Yes. Steph thinks she can just lord this over me, and she's right. If I don't fall in line with her plan, the marriage implodes and I'm the bad guy for breaking us up. Or maybe she'll tell everyone that the two of us 'grew apart' and 'parted amicably,' and she just happened to be SO LUCKY that Lee was Such A Good Friend to her, offering support and companionship when she needed it. Anything but the truth about her lying and cheating for years while we were married."

"It doesn't matter if she does. Nothing she does matters anymore. She may believe that she's got you boxed in, but so what? She's wrong. There's only one thing that matters now, only one thing makes any difference at all."

"What is that?"

"It's YOU. You've got all the power you need. Right now, she thinks that you've got no choice. She knows your feelings are hurt, but she figures you'll get over it and forgive her and things will go back to the way they were. She knows it will be difficult, but she sees it as inevitable. She's prepared to say she's sorry till she's out of breath and give you however many blowjobs it takes, maybe even offer you your own freedom, but she's reasonably certain she'll get you back. Even if she doesn't, she's got her backup plan in place. But she's overconfident. Arrogant. You've never faced the choices you're up against. The thing is: You. Do. Have. A. Choice. What You Do Is Up To You. Stephanie needs to be prepared not to like your choices any better than you like hers. She's not in control of this situation. You are."

"What do you think I should do?"

"Honey, I know you're looking for guidance, but the most important thing is for you to take the initiative. Assume leadership in your life. Take your power back. It doesn't matter what you decide, as long as You're the one making the call."

"That's good advice."

"Thank you. There's something more that you need to hear."

"Okay."

"Dave, I love you."

"Errr..."

"Look at me, Dave." She sat up, laid her hand against my face and drew my eyes to hers. "I. Love. You. Dave."

"I, ah, don't know what to say."

"Listen. I love you. I love Mike and Jessica, too. I love Jerry at the till and Jerome at the door. I love Becky and Mary and Aylana, not that those are their real names, but I love them anyway. I even love Stephanie. And I love you. You can love anybody you like. You can love everybody in the world. Don't be afraid to say it. Loving people is a good thing. It's just love. It's just a feeling, a connection. It's not a decision. It's not a promise. It's not an action. It's not something you have to be helpless about. You can love someone and still not be in a relationship with them. You can love someone and still be estranged from them. Some people are toxic. You can love them and STILL make the healthy decision not to have them in your life."

"Oh."

"Do you love Stephanie?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you're her prisoner, or that you have to put up with her shit?"

"No."

"Does it mean you have no choice about anything to do with her?"

"No!"

"GOOD. Do you love me, Dave? You can say yes, or no. You're not promising me anything either way, and I can love you without any expectation of hearing you say it back."

"I get it. Yes. I love you, Cookie."

"Don't you feel free, now? You can love without constraint, and you can still decide what you're going to do, and who you're going to be with, and who you can tell to fuck off and die, even if you love them."

"I get it."

"Good. Be prepared to accept a lot more love in your life."

"Thank you."

"I really do love you, Dave. You're worthy of love that isn't so cruel."

I just wept. I had no idea what to say.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm..." I was still crying, but part of me had broken free. ""I'm going to make a choice."

She kissed me. "Good. That was wonderful. That was powerful. That's what you needed to see. I really do love you and I really am proud of you. How do you feel?"

"God, I don't know. Sad. Happy. Scared. Triumphant. Excited. Depressed. Angry. All of that. None of that. Alive."

"Perfect." She rested her head back against my chest and listened to me cry for a while longer. After a timeless time, my breathing settled and she leaned back to reach for her wig.

"I think we're about done, for now. But listen, this is just the start. I'm going to be with you through the whole process, okay? I said so and I meant it. Here." She handed me her ID and a business card. That was the first and only time I've ever been handed a business card by a naked woman. I don't know where she'd hidden them. "That's my real name, my real address, and my real job. My other job, anyway. I want you to call me or message me any time of day or night. I may not get back to you right away, but I WILL get back to you as soon as I can, and we'll get you through this. Months, years, decades from now, it doesn't matter. Anytime at all. Okay?"

"Okay." I looked at the card. Dr. Cookie Deathridge, with a couple of acronyms after her name, was an associate professor of Psychology and Sociology at the university. "You're a college professor?"

"Two Ph.D's." she shrugged. "Do you have any idea how little money there is in academia? The salary is shit, and I've had massive student loans. Working here covers the bills and then some. It also gives me an amazing research opportunity. I've written two books about gentlemen's clubs."

"You are full of surprises."

"You have no idea." She got up off me, leaning in for another kiss first. "I've probably had your daughter in one of my classes. You said she was a psych major. Ask her about me. Better to find out sooner than later." Then she looked me in the eyes again. "Listen. I'm going to be around, in your life, helping you to get through this, if you let me. But I'm not your girlfriend, okay? I'm not anybody's girlfriend. I belong to no one but myself. That's just how it is. I do love you, and I am your friend, and I do have a sex life. It's not like I don't have it in me to show you that kind of affection and make you feel like a real man." She reached down and stroked my dick through my pants. "But that's all it is. I don't do romantic relationships. Not for anyone. Not for anything. Never Again. Sorry." Then she picked up her valentine pasties, but didn't put them on. She thrust her breasts towards me. "Hey, give these puppies one more for the road, will you?"