Honey had been working at the Pussy Cat Club for Mr. Sarantos for a little over a year when one day, Honey and Charles were sitting down to breakfast. It was a fairly ordinary day; the weather was nice, Charles was getting ready for another day of work, and Honey would soon be headed to the club to start her shift.

She had been able to keep her "second life" under wraps and Charles had no idea his wife was a stripper. The landscaping business had kept him pretty busy and even though work had picked up thankfully, he still worked hard at getting back to where his business was prior to the downturn in the economy.

Mr. Sarantos didn't mention anything more about the loan, especially since Honey and Charles had been able to start making regular payments again. He kept Honey's stripping and extra payments to himself for Honey's sake and because he wanted Angel to keep on working for him. 

He was looking forward to the day when their loan would be paid off and the money she was giving him would become additional profit instead of a loan repayment. 

Things should have been running smoothly again for them. But Charles had found out something and wanted to discuss it.

"Honey, you remember Steve Jackson... of Jackson Properties? We did some work for them a couple of years ago and now we have a contract for upkeep on his apartment complex."

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, he came by the office today for a visit. He is putting in a second phase to his properties and wanted to talk about landscaping the new place. Anyway, after we talked he was getting ready to leave when he said something very curious. 

He said 'That girl of yours is quite a dancer! She has some very sexy moves!' Obviously, I found this statement puzzling, and I wanted to see if you could shed some light on his words."

Honey dropped the plate of bacon, eggs, and toast she had made for his breakfast and fell into her seat. "Oh Charles, Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry! Please, I am so, so sorry!" she said, her eyes wide in horror.

"Well suppose we start by you telling me what you are sorry for. And tell me everything Honey," he said. She saw the serious, no-nonsense look in his face and knew she had to come clean.

"Okay, Charles, I will tell you everything. You remember last year when things were really tight financially and we were having trouble meeting our bills? 

"We were afraid we weren't going to be able to keep the business and we went to see Mr. Sarantos for a loan because the banks wouldn't help us."

"Yes, I remember."

"Well we started having trouble paying the loan off too and we didn't know what to do. I was afraid if we didn't make the payment, he might send some guys over to..."

"What did you do honey?" he said point-blank.

"I went to see Mr. Sarantos. I know you told me not to but I was scared for you. I didn't want anything to happen to you!"

"You what? I told you that I would handle things. I told you he was not someone to be messed with!" he said.

"I know, I know. But like I said I was scared for you," she said, her head hung low.

"So you went to see Mr. Sarantos. What happened then?"

"Well, we talked and we reached an arrangement on how to pay the loan back."

"Oh? I have been paying the loan every month at the same old rate... what kind of an arrangement are you talking about?"

"Well, I... I agreed to... to start working for him." 

"You WHAT?" he said, suddenly standing up.

"I agreed to start working for him. It was his idea. He said that we couldn't make the payments as things were, and so he suggested that I come to work for him. That way I could work off part of the payment each month and get some money for our budget as well. 

"It was the only way to keep him from sending his boys to see you. I couldn't let them hurt you, sweetheart. 

"As Mr. Sarantos said if we couldn't make the bills with you working, how would we make them with you hurt and unable to work? Plus the hospital bills we would have gotten had his men beat you up!"

Charles got over the initial shock and sat down trying to keep calm. "So what do you do for Mr. Sarantos?" he asked, expecting her to tell him she was his secretary or something.

"I work... at the Pussy Cat Club," she said timidly.

"The Pussy Cat Club?"

"Yes... as a dancer... a stripper," she said softly, almost whispering the words.

Charles sat there stunned, a blank look on his face, his eyes locked on hers. He had no words he couldn't have said them if he did. He had gone completely numb and vacant.

"Please Charles, say something," 

"I have to go to work. I have to go," he finally said. 

He got up and despite her frantic pleas to come back and talk he picked up his bag and headed to work. Honey fell onto the couch, crying inconsolably.

After she'd had a good cry and was all cried out, she got up and started getting ready for work. She didn't know how she was going to get through the shift. The last thing on earth she felt like doing right now was putting on a sexy show for strange men. But she had to go to work and do her best so she could earn the money to pay Mr. Sarantos.

She went into the bathroom and put a cold washrag on her eyes–they had gotten red from her crying and bloodshot eyes are not a good look for a stripper! After she had reduced the redness and puffiness of her eyes she went ahead and got ready for work.

"Where have you been, Angel! I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up today!" Candy said as Angel came in the back door of the club.

"Oh Candy!" she said almost starting to cry again upon seeing her friend.

"Oh my God, what's wrong sweetie?" she said, helping Angel to sit down on a handy bench.

"Oh Candy, it's awful! Charles has found out I work here and he is beyond livid! He stormed out of the house without any breakfast and without even talking about this. He didn't even kiss me goodbye and he has never in all the years we've been married ever not kissed me goodbye!" Angel said her face in her hands.

"How did he find out?" Candy asked.

"Apparently one of our companies long-time customers said something. He must have come in the club, saw me dancing on stage, and then commented to Charles how good I was! Oh, I knew this was a mistake from the very beginning! What am I going to do, Candy? I can't live without Charles!" she sobbed.

"Listen, hon, you go home. You don't need to be here working in your condition and you wouldn't be any good if you did. I will smooth things over with Mr. Sarantos–I know how to handle him. You go home and try to figure out how you can convince your husband that you were doing this for him... to help him," Candy said.

"O-okay. Thank you, Candy," Angel said.

"Let me know if you need anything. Or if you want me to help you talk to Charles. I can tell him about me and David and how we handled it," Candy said.

Honey left the club and headed home. She didn't have to rush this time, Charles wouldn't be home for hours yet... if he came home at all.

Honey puttered around the house aimlessly that day unable to concentrate on her cleaning or anything else. She just kept moving from one project or task to another not completing any of them. 

Her mind was whirling with all sorts of ideas, what-ifs, and imaginations of possible outcomes of this. She had no idea what Charles was thinking, if she was headed for a divorce, or if they could work this out. 

She had really messed up by going to talk to Mr. Sarantos in the first place but to agree to go to work as a stripper... as a whore, was another matter altogether. Charles didn't even know about her having sex with other men and he was already pissed off. 

When he finds out that the VIP room is part of her job... she shuddered at the thought and tried to push it from her head.

After what had undoubtedly been one of the longest and most trying days of her life, it was getting close to the time when Charles would usually come home from work. 

Honey hadn't eaten anything all day, having dropped breakfast on the floor this morning and then not wanting to eat lunch. 

She sat on the sofa directly across the living room from the front door anxiously waiting to see him come in. She already had her speech planned out what she was going to say and do, starting with running into his arms and apologizing profusely.

Charles almost always came through the front door between 5:30 and 5:45 every evening. If he was any later than that, he would call and tell her he would be late or that the traffic was bad on the way home so she wouldn't worry. And since there was no phone call that evening, she expected him home at any moment.

But 5:45 came, then 6:00, and 6:15, and still no word from him. She began to get really worried. He had never come home this late without telling her and her mind was racing with all sorts of possibilities–none of which were good ones. What if he didn't come home? Had she done something so grievous that he couldn't or wouldn't forgive her? Had she blown their twelve-year marriage? 

Honey was beside herself with worry and fear when, at 6:30, she heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway. She waited, trembling, as she saw him walk up the sidewalk through the semi-sheer curtains and she heard his key in the lock of the front door. 

At last, the door swung open and she saw her beloved Charles standing in the doorway. She jumped up from the sofa and even though the living room was fairly large, she managed to cross it in two bounds.

But then Charles put his hand up. "Stop right there. You and I need to talk, Honey." 

She stopped dead in her tracks. The hurt look in her face would have ordinarily killed him, but this was something he couldn't allow his emotions to run roughshod over. He had to maintain control... he had to get what he wanted to say out and not fall victim to her tears and pouty face.

"Sit down," he said, pointing to one of the dining room chairs. Obediently, she took the seat he indicated and then he took a seat across the table from her.

"Now I am going to talk and ask questions. You are going to give me the answers and that is it until I am finished. You had better give me the truth too, young lady. After I am done, you can submit any additional explanations and reasons. Understand me?" he said sternly.

"Yes, Charles."

"Good. Let's start at the beginning. Why did you go see Mr. Sarantos when I expressly told you not to? I told you that he was not a man to be messed with, that he was dangerous, and that I would take care of it."

"Charles, you weren't taking care of it. Our business was falling apart. We were only weeks away from losing the whole thing and having to let all of the crew go. Not to mention defaulting on Mr. Sarantos and what that would imply. 

"My old job at the bank was negotiating deals like this. And I couldn't bear the thought of his men hurting you. I know Mr. Sarantos is a loan shark but we got into this mess together, and I couldn't let you take what was coming without doing something. I love you and I didn't want to see you all beat up!" 

"How long has this been going on? How long have you been stripping at the Pussy Cat Club?"

"For a little over a year now."

"A YEAR?" he said stunned. "You have been working at the Pussy Cat Club for a year taking your clothes off for strange men? For a year?"

"Yes, Charles. Right after I went to see Mr. Sarantos that time, he put me to work within a week. I have been going there three times a week, sometimes more, while you were at the office or out on a job site. 

"You were so busy trying to keep the business afloat that you didn't even notice I was gone. And I made sure I was always home when you got here with dinner almost ready or on the table. 

"Yeah, I guess the business has taken up a lot of my time. But your Dad gave you the money to get it going, and I didn't want some bad luck to take it away from you."

"I know Charles and I love you all the more for that. But money doesn't mean anything sweetheart if I don't have you. I can live without the business–you are smart and I'm sure you could find another job. But where am I going to find another you?"

"Honey I went to the club today. I wanted to see this place so I took off work a couple of hours early and spent two or three hours at the club. I sat there and watched the girls dance. 

"I had to have a drink, there's a two-drink minimum, so I had a couple of beers while I watched them. I saw how they danced... the first time they go on stage, they take off their tops and the second time they go on topless and take off everything but their heels and stockings if they have them. Is that what you do as well?"

"Yes, that's the way it works. Each of the girls dances two songs and then goes out onto the floor to mingle with the customers. There they can sit with them and drink or they can give table dances or lap dances. Then when the girl ahead of them is on her first song, we go get ready to go on after her second song."

"I see. Anything else?" 

Honey could see by the look on his face that he knew more went on at The Pussy Cat Club than just women entertaining men by stripping and dancing without their clothes on. He wanted to see if she would disclose everything to him or try to be elusive about what else went on.

"Yes. Sometimes the girls take men to the VIP rooms in the back for private shows. It's part of our job and expected of us."

"I see. And what goes on in these VIP rooms?" he pressed her further.

"Charles, please..."

"What goes on in these VIP rooms?" he repeated his question. He looked at his wife and saw the tears running down her cheeks. He waited patiently for her reply.

This was it. Her next words would determine the fate of their marriage. If she told him the truth–that she had taken men back to the VIP room and fucked them–he may get so mad at her he wants a divorce. If she tries to evade the question and doesn't tell him everything, he may already know and he will get mad at her for that.

She decided that full disclosure was the best route and just hope he thought so too. At least that way she would know that she told him the truth even though it might cost her her marriage.

"It depends on what the customer wants. Sometimes they just want a blowjob or a handjob. Sometimes it's more. We agree on what's going to happen before we go back to the room and how much it will cost them," she said.

"So you have sex with the men back there?"

"Yes, but it's just sex. And we have to do it. It's one of Mr. Sarantos rules. Any girl that refuses doesn't work there long. And I needed to work there...for us, for you."

He sat there digesting the fact that his wife not only took off her clothes for men for money but once undressed, she fucked them as well. She was a stripper... and a whore.

For the longest time, he sat at the table, not saying anything, just trying to sort out his thoughts and feelings on what he now knew about his wife's clandestine activities. 

To his credit, Charles was not prone to rash, spur-of-the-moment decisions and he wanted to think this through before doing or saying anything.

However this very aspect of his personality, one Honey had always admired him for before now, was driving her crazy. 

"Please Charles...say something... please," she pleaded with him.

Nothing. Not so much as a peep. 

Honey was just about at the point of giving up any hope of a reconciliation when Charles finally came out of his veil of silence.

"All right Honey, I have asked you the questions I needed answers to and I have listened to your replies. I believe you have told me the truth–after twelve years of marriage, I think I know when you are not giving me an honest answer. 

"So now is there anything else you want to tell me? Any excuses or reasons that would help explain why you did what you did? I'm waiting to hear your side of this story."

"Charles honey, I know I messed up badly this time. I didn't listen to you and got involved in all this. I'm so sorry that I screwed up everything. 

"But I did it because I love you and because I wanted to protect you. You have to believe me, sweetheart, I never ever meant to hurt you. I just wanted to make sure you didn't get hurt by Mr. Saranto's men. 

"When I went to see him, I thought I could talk to him and explain our situation. But before I even realized what was happening, I had agreed to work for him. 

"He put me in a corner where I had to choose to work or to watch my husband get beat so severely he couldn't. And then we'd lose the business anyway. I didn't see any choice.

"Charles when I was at the club that first night I was so scared. I almost threw up when I was getting ready and when my first song came on and I went on stage, I could barely stand up. 

"Seeing all those men out there wanting to see me taking off my clothes was terrifying. I very nearly backed out right then. 

"The only thing that kept me going was the image I had of you laying in a hospital bed hooked to a bunch of machines and wrapped in bandages from head to toe. I kept that image in my head the whole time I danced.

"But then something happened. As I danced and slowly took off my top, I began to notice how those men were paying closer attention. They were really watching me, not leering and drooling like I had it in my head, but watching me. And applauding! They were really enjoying my dancing!

"After that, I began to enjoy dancing. It was quite an ego boost to see how these men thought I was sexy and how they wanted me. I started loosening up and having fun with it. 

"And now... now I kinda look forward to going to the club and dancing. Not to brag sweetheart, but I have gotten a pretty good following–men actually come in and ask if I'm working that day!"

"So you really like stripping?"

"I do, Charles. I like feeling sexy and I like the attention the men give me. I like the money I make and I like flirting. Is it wrong to feel desirable, to feel empowered as a woman?"

"No, Honey, it's not wrong to feel good about yourself or your sexuality. But I've always tried to tell you that you were sexy. I've always been proud of my hot wife."

"I know baby, but it's different with the other men. You are my husband and you kinda have to think I'm sexy. I mean, what man wants to admit to himself he's married to an ugly woman? But these other men, they really do think I'm sexy. And it's fun!

"What about the other things... the things that go on in the VIP room?"

"Charles, I have sex with other men in the VIP rooms, yes. I won't deny that. But it's just business. It's what I have to do to keep my job. It's Mr. Sarantos rules. 

"But it's simply providing a service, I don't feel anything for any of these men. I am just a pressure relief valve for them. Just a warm, talking, blow-up sex doll.

"Darling, it's you that I love. It's you I make love to. I may fuck these other men, but there's no emotion; no love. I will always love only you and at the end of the day, I will always come home to you. 

"You are my heart and my life. You are the reason I do what I do. And I only hope you can understand why I did it and why I continue to do it. Because I love you. I want to protect you. No matter what I have to do to achieve that."

Charles suddenly stood up and walked around the table. He reached down and pulled Honey to her feet. 

"Honey, I do not approve of how this all came about–the sneaking around behind my back and all. But if you enjoy being a stripper and that VIP room stuff, then I guess I will come to terms with it. Just promise me you will be careful. 

"I promise, Charles."

"Good. Because while you are taking care of and protecting me, I have a responsibility to do the same for you."

"So you are okay with my working at the club?"

"Just so long as you save the last dance for me," he said.

"Always, Charles. Always." and he pulled her closer to him while she cried on his shoulder... tears of happiness this time!