(Highest ranking: #253 in Chicklit - 3 October 2017) Cynthia finds lipstick on her husband's shirt and it isn't her shade. She goes out for a walk trying to process the shocking news of her husband's infidelity, and that's when she finds Stacy, a wo...
"Hi, I'm Mrs. Lancaster. I was hoping to see Mr. Lancaster, my husband." Cynthia said to the young assistant at Andrew's reception desk. Do you know if he's available right now?"
She had made sure to wear her most elegant looking jewelry for the trip, a pair of dark sunglasses and a Prada handbag for the final touch. For some reason, she felt she needed to embellish herself to play her own role as Mrs. Lancaster.
"Oh. Hi Ma'am. Yeah, he's in a meeting right now, but I can tell him you're here," replied the assistant in a rather high-pitched voice. Cynthia wondered how new she must be to think it's okay to interrupt her boss's meeting for a wifely visit. She had expected her to just lay out Andrew's schedule before telling her she couldn't see him. The schedule is all she wanted, in fact.
"No, no! Cynthia replied quickly. "No need to bother him. But do you know when he might be a little freer perhaps?"
"Maybe around lunch time. He likes to have his lunch a little late, so that's around 2:00 o'clock."
"Okay, that's perfect then." She debated for a minute before adding, "Don't bother telling him I was here. I just don't want to worry him, you know. He worries enough as it is."
"Oh, that's alright, ma'am, I won't tell him."
"Great. Thank you, sweetheart!"
The last time she had been to Andrew's office building was about three years ago, and even then, she hadn't taken the trouble to make anyone's acquaintance. Still, she felt the need to pull down her hair and re-adjust her glasses as she walked to the coffee shop where Stacy was waiting for her. Almost as if she feared someone would recognize her.
"Lunch time?" Stacy asked as soon as Cynthia was close enough to hear her.
"Yes, but apparently that's around 2 o'clock for him," Cynthia replied. She sat down and took the coffee Stacy was handing her.
"In the meantime, I'll be touching up my makeup."
"But Stacy... how do we know he'll take the bait? What if he wants to stick with whatever side thing he's fooling around with?"
"Trust me, I know men like him. They're loyal to no one." Stacy pulled out some lipstick from her handbag and began applying it, "She's probably lying herself thinking he'll leave you for her when in fact all he cares about is himself and his own pleasure. All he wants is someone to make him a bottom."
"I wonder how she sleeps at night. How could someone be ruining another woman's marriage and still..." Cynthia trailed off. Stacy was giving her a funny look. "I'm sorry," Cynthia added quickly.
"It's okay. I understand. I would think that way too if I didn't know the other side of the story." For a few seconds, there was silence between them. Stacy slowly swashed the contour brush onto her cheekbones. "You're right. We do lie to ourselves a lot. That's the only way to survive. But who doesn't lie to themselves? We all tell ourselves that we're just doing what we can to survive, to be happy. We just do it in different ways. You're working as an accountant and taking care of your kids. That's what you tell yourself you need to do to be happy. To survive. I'm doing the only job I happened to qualify for and keeping my head above water," Stacy looked away from her mirror turning her gaze to Cynthia "I know what you're thinking. There are many ways to survive. Why do you have to choose the sluttiest one? That's just it. I didn't choose it, remember. Out here, on the other side of life, it's not as easy as you might expect. Being able to choose what to do with your life is itself a privilege." Stacy paused to retrieve a hairbrush from her handbag then concluded with, "I don't want to be a prostitute, Cynthia. In fact, the first chance I get to leave this, I'll take it."
There was again another pause before Cynthia repeated, "Hey I'm sorry if I offended you."
Stacy laughed, "Oh girl. Don't worry yourself. I understand. I would have done the same if I were you." Stacy closed her mirror and began sipping her coffee with a straw.
"I want to help you... get out of it." Cynthia said. "You're helping me so much here with my husband and I just want to help you back.
"I'm just paying that bastard the punishment he deserves, sweetheart. And to be honest, I probably want to see the bastard defeated more than you. I just can't stand cheating husbands. That's another thing you might get wrong. Just because we sleep with them doesn't mean we like them or agree with what they're doing. I can't even begin to explain to you how much I despise them. It's because of them that my market exists. Because of them that I'm in this, hating myself. Who knows where I would have been if this wasn't an option. But then, of course, they had to go out looking for pleasure outside their marriages."
"Hey, I know how you feel. I just want you to know that. Remember my dad? He made me hate myself so many times. And to be honest, now I also despise him." Cynthia replied. She was struggling to gauge if Stacy was angry or not.
"That – what you feel for your dad – except multiplied like a thousand times. That's what I feel for those cheating husbands. Everybody says we prostitutes are the scum of society, but honestly, they are the scummiest of them all."
"I think they just hurt so many people in the process," Cynthia said. Stacy had agreed with her. Maybe she wasn't angry at her after all.
I'll tell you, Cynthia, you don't know half of the things I've seen them do to our kind. Just because they're paying for our services, they think it's okay to treat us like..." Stacy's voice trailed off. She always tried so hard to not show this emotional side of herself. She took a breath to calm herself and continued, "Cynthia I have seen a man bang one of my girl's heads against the wall. And guess what? He wasn't punished in any way for that. In fact, he kept coming back to us for months after the incident and paying the overheads. Believe me, I have more than enough reason to despise people like Andrew." Stacy gestured for the waiter.
"I'm sorry. I wish you didn't have to go through that," Cynthia said. She meant every word.
"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."
They ordered some sandwiches to snack on during their wait. The topic changed to a lighter note, the latest comedy film at the theater. Then later, as it got closer to 2:00 o'clock, they went over their plan one more time before paying the bill and going up to the office building.
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