Pov Hooker

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Pov Hooker
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I’d do anything to give my kids a better life!
From the first moment that I gazed into my baby daughter’s eyes I made a silent promise that she would never be deprived of any of the opportunities I’d missed out on. Years later, I made the same promise to her brother and sister.
My childhood was not what you’d call a horrible one. I had a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes to wear. I’m sure my parents loved me, but they didn’t cherish me. There is a difference. I never felt that they were interested in making sacrifices to help me get ahead in life. Mom and Dad were content to see me graduate from high school, take a menial job, and hopefully someday get married.
I had to sit on the sidelines and watch my classmates win awards for talent, beauty, and athletics. Oh, how I envied those girls who got to take piano and dance lessons. I dreamed of becoming a dancer, an actress, a famous writer. But to develop a talent, you need to be nurtured.
I wasn’t too bad at sports, but because my parents wouldn’t shell out the money for a park league team, I never had the opportunity to really show off my skills.
In short, if it cost money, I had to forget about it. So I did all that was expected of me: I finished high school, but I couldn’t go to college. My parents didn’t have the money for tuition, not even with me working to earn part of the expenses. With college out of the question, I did what so many other girls have done—I got a job.
I’d taken secretarial courses in high school and was able to land a position as a file clerk in a trucking company. It was there that I met Carson Brooks, one of the truckers.
Carson was about six years older than me and very good-looking. I was flattered that he wanted to date me. We went out together for eight months, and then he asked me to marry him. I said yes for two reasons; the first being that I wanted to get out of my parents’ house. The second was that I thought Carson was the best I could do, and he loved me.
Our combined income gave us a decent living, but he was gone a lot. I was always lonely. I was thrilled when I became pregnant. Having a baby would fill those lonely days. Carson was excited about the baby. He agreed that we needed a house instead of our small apartment. I knew exactly what I wanted, which was a home in Brookline Estates, the upper-class area of town.
I never considered the cost. Providing a lifestyle that would give my child the very best was my only consideration. Carson, however, felt differently. “Jessie, we can’t afford to move into Brookline Estates. The taxes alone are more than we pay in rent now.”
“Maybe so, but it’s worth it, considering the education our child will get. Think of the opportunities the baby will have.”
“Can’t we compromise a little and find a house in a good neighborhood that we can afford? I’m not asking you to move into a slum, but there are lots of nice neighborhoods that would serve our needs without crippling us with debt.”
“Sure, if you don’t care what sort of future your child has, I suppose we can compromise.” After that, I refused to speak to him for days. How could he be such a penny-pincher when it came to our child’s future?
After a week of the cold shoulder treatment, Carson caved. “Find a house in Brookline if you can get one that we can have financed. I’ll take on some extra runs to pay for it.”
I hugged him and made love to him passionately that night. The next day I started a serious hunt for our house. Carson was right about one thing: Financing wasn’t going to be easy. We couldn’t get into the four bedrooms, five bath homes with the swimming pools.
I’d almost given up hope when the realtor showed me a house that had just been put on the market. It was in desperate need of repair and quite old, but in the right zip code. Even in such dismal shape, it was twenty thousand dollars over budget, but it was the best buy I’d found.
Carson was a hard sell. “I’ll do most of the redecorating,” I said. “You’ll only have to do the heavy stuff that I can’t.”
“But it needs so much work, Jessie. It’ll take every spare minute I have just to make the place livable.”
“Yes, but once we have it fixed up, it’ll be a great investment. We’d be able to sell it for almost double what we’re paying.”
Eventually I pressured him into buying the house. Moving was no big deal because we didn’t have much to start with. On our second day in our new home, the next-door neighbors dropped by with a welcome gift. Darla and Hal DeRossa were definitely an upwardly mobile couple. She owned her own interior designer business and he was a CPA. I felt embarrassed having them see our tacky old furniture.
“What a marvelous piece,” Darla said, running her hand over the dining room table. “Where did you find it?”
“My grandmother gave it to me. She moved to a retirement community in Florida and didn’t need her furniture.”
The truth was, Grandmother moved in with her sister, who lived in a trailer in Florida. She told me I could have her old furniture if I’d haul it out.
After Darla and Hal left, Carson turned to me, completely disgusted. “Why did you lie about your grandmother to the DeRossas? It’s no shame not to have money.”
“Yes, it is. If you don’t have money, you’ll always be on the outside looking in while someone else gets all the prizes.”
“Jessie, anyone worth knowing won’t judge you on what you have. They’ll look at the kind of person you are inside.”
“Carson, we’re in a different world now. Appearances count for a lot. I know Darla thought the furniture was tacky, even if she did compliment Grandmother’s dining room suite. We’ve got to furnish our home with nicer things.”
“ How ? There are only twenty-four hours in a day, and I can’t take on anymore trips. All my spare time is spent fixing this house up, so where will the money to buy the things you want come from?”
“I’m going back to work after the baby comes.”
“No way, Jessie. You agreed not to work until the baby was at least a year old.”
“That is so old-fashioned. Darla didn’t stop working because of her kids.” Darla and Hal mentioned that they had two children; one was five and the other was ten months.
“I don’t care what Darla does or doesn’t do. I want you at home with our baby.”
“Carson, I’m going back to work and that’s that.”
By spring, the house was almost finished. April brought rain, flowers, and our beautiful little daughter. Kristal was more than I’d dreamed of. Her hair was dark, like Carson’s, and she had my green eyes and dimples. Going back to work and leaving her was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but we desperately needed the money.
I worked hard and saved as much of my earnings as possible so that Kristal could enter the baby beauty pageants when she was old enough. Darla’s daughter, Morgan, had won her first at two years old, and I was determined that Kristal would do the same.
Carson and I hadn’t planned to have another child right away, but sometimes you are taken by surprise. This time it was a boy, and we named him Lance. I could tell from the way he kicked that this little guy was destined to be a soccer player or on an NFL team.
Mom had helped with Kristal but wasn’t up to caring for a second child. When I told Darla about my problem with childcare, she suggested I hire a nanny to look after both children. Carson, as usual, complained about the cost, saying we could put the children in day care. I won that argument. Weren’t our children worth the expense of a nanny?
Two years later, Jennifer was born. After that I had my tubes tied. I loved children and so did Carson, but it is wrong to have more than you can provide for. Besides, I was already working overtime to cover Kristal’s pageants. She’d also started taking dance lessons and modeling. As beautiful as my little girl was, I knew that a talent agent would someday discover her and she’d be in commercials.
At six, Kristal won her first overall best of show. I’ve never been prouder in my life. The trophy was bigger than she was!
“We’re going to have to get serious about Kristal’s future,” I told Carson.
“Jessie, we spend every spare dime on her lessons and pageant fees as it is. How much more serious can we get?”
“She needs a modeling coach—a good one to guide her career.”
“ Career ? Kristal’s only six. She’s a pretty little girl with a great personality, but frankly I think she’d be happier if you cut back on the pageants and just let her be a kid.”
“I’m not doing this for me. I’m going to see to it that my children have the opportunities they deserve, no matter what the sacrifice.”
“The hell you’re not doing it for you! Jessie, you spent six hours on the phone calling people to brag about Kristal winning the contest.”
“I want people to know how special she is, and how proud I am of her.”
“Have it your way.” He slammed out the door.
Kristal didn’t get the coach I wanted to hire because we couldn’t afford the woman. It broke my heart, but Kristal took the disappointment well. “Mom, it’s really okay,” she said. “I like Miss Wren at dance school better, anyway.”
Her understanding made me all the more determined. Kristal, Lance, and Jen would have the best that money could buy, no matter what Carson and I had to do to get it for them.
Just as I’d predicted, Lance was a born soccer player. Even at five he showed talent. When he joined a park league team at age eight, I signed on to carpool with other soccer moms. To fit all the kids into my car I traded the one I had in for a new SUV.
Carson was furious when he returned from a trip and saw it sitting in our driveway.
“I work for money, too,” I protested. “And if I need a car I shouldn’t have to wait until you have time to help me find one.”
“That’s what I’m putting on your tombstone, Carson. ‘We can’t afford it!’ ”
“At the rate things are going, with all the financial stress, it might be a good idea to go ahead and order that tombstone. You’re killing me, Jessie.”
We barely spoke to each other all weekend. There was a subject I wanted to bring up but didn’t dare. Jen was just the right age to start on the pageant circuit. I desperately wanted to enter her in the Beautiful Baby contest at the Civic Center. The entry fee was two hundred dollars, plus photos and awards.
Somehow, I would have to come up with the money without telling Carson. I’d recently changed jobs, taking one that paid more. My boss, John Rogers, sold medical equipment to doctors and retailers. I was his administrative assistant. I’ll admit it wasn’t my computer skills that landed me the job. John had an eye for blondes with big . . . dimples.
Not that we messed around or anything. John just liked to flirt. At least that was what I told myself when he’d make suggestive remarks. One of his major accounts was a plastic surgeon. The doctor, whom I’ll call Dr. Miller, mentioned to John that I had the kind of build that his patients paid big bucks to achieve.
When John told me what he’d said, I was flattered. After three children, I’d still kept my figure. John asked me to stay a little late that day, after the rest of the staff had gone. I didn’t usually do overtime, so this being a first-time request, I felt I couldn’t turn him down.
“Jessie, there’s something I want to talk to you about. You can say no and we’ll pretend we never had this conversation, but if you’re interested, then . . .well, we’ll see where it goes.”
“Just tell me. If I don’t like what you’ve got to say, I’ll let you know.”
“Bruce Miller has a thing for you.”
John smiled slightly. “Yeah, he’s going ape over you. Jessie, if you’re interested, he’d be very generous to us. He said he’d give me all of his business, and if he does, there’ll be a substantial bonus in it for you.”
“Nothing. This is between you and Bruce. I’m only the messenger.”
“Right. But I have to say . . . you don’t act like a happily married woman. And there’s nothing wrong with having lunch with Bruce. You could enjoy a nice meal and then make your decisions. Jessie, lots of women do it, and from what I’ve observed, you’d be justified. It’s obvious that your husband doesn’t appreciate you. I’ve seen the look on your face when other women get flowers for their birthday or Valentine’s and you don’t.”
That was true. Carson never sent me flowers. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last meaningful gift he’d given me. For my birthday he took me out to dinner at a cheap restaurant. John was right: It wouldn’t hurt to have lunch with Dr. Miller. Maybe he was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to.
I’ve always been able to justify my actions, and this time was no exception. I had lunch with Bruce Miller. Afterward, he took me to see his office. No one was there. We sat on his lush leather sofa and sipped cognac. Bruce put his arm around me and moved in for a slow, lingering kiss.
It was wrong, I know, but it felt so tender and good. Carson seldom kissed me like that anymore. Having a man really desire and appreciate me went to my head faster than the cognac.
“I have to get back to work,” I said.
“No, you don’t. I’ll call John and tell him you’re taking inventory for me.”
Bruce and I talked for a long time. I told him all about my children and my dreams for them. He understood; he felt the same way about his own kids. His wife was a lot like Carson, so we had that in common, too.
Soon we were making love on the sofa. Afterward I felt shame and guilt. How could I face my children? I’d cheated on their father. On the drive home I promised myself that I’d never see Bruce again.
The next day, a messenger arrived with a letter for me. It was a paid-in-full entry form from the Beautiful Baby people. I almost cried, I was so happy. She would get the opportunity I’d prayed for. I called to thank her silent benefactor, Dr. Bruce Miller.
Bruce kept his word and gave John all his business. I received a very nice bonus. Bruce and I saw each other a couple of times a week, and afterward there was always a token of his appreciation. I didn’t consider myself a prostitute for taking gifts and money from him. I just saw it as his way of showing me how much he cared for me.
Was I in love with him? I can’t honestly say. After awhile he stopped calling me. John said that Bruce’s wife was giving him hell about not spending more time at home, and Bruce was afraid she’d find out about the affair. In a way, I was relieved to have it end.
There was a downside, though, one that I felt immediately. The money Bruce had given me paid for the extras my children needed. I was able to get a good modeling coach for Kristal, and she’d improved her runway presentation a hundred times over. Jen was in the best dancing school in the city, and her fees were coming due soon. Lance needed to attend soccer camp to improve his game.
I told John about my problems. He had a solution ready at hand. Another of his customers had commented that he’d like to get to know me better. I agreed to lunch, like before, but this time the man wasn’t the gentleman that Bruce had been. He laid it on the line for me, that it was sex he was after. Conversation was something he avoided with women; if he was going to have to chat a lady up, he’d do it with his own wife.
This time I said I’d have to think about it. I did, too, and almost made up my mind to say no . . . when John told me how much the bonus would be. It was wrong; everything I did was wrong, but I felt obligated to do whatever I had to do. Carson certainly wasn’t taking an interest in helping the children excel.
In a short time I’d gone from soccer mom to corporate hooker, sleeping with my boss’ customers to land big accounts. I got my share of the loot but paid for it with feelings of shame and degradation. I’d die if my children found out, even though I was doing it for their benefit.
Lance was able to go to soccer camp, and did very well. Kristal was now taking piano and voice; little Jen was the darling of the pageant circuit, as well as a star in her dance class. Their trophies lined the mantle in the living room. I’d kept the promise I’d made to them when they were born.
Unfortunately, karma has a way of kicking us in the rear. One of the secretaries left the company and went to work for John’s chief rival. Neither John nor I had noticed just how disgruntled Rosemary had been with her job. We also didn’t know that she knew about our clandestine relationships with some of our customers. How she found out, I’ll never know. John and I were both extremely careful.
Rosemary must have told her new employer about my arrangement with John, and how we were able to land such large contracts. It didn’t take long for the rumor mill to circulate the story all over town. Soon the customers who’d given us their business stopped buying from John; they wouldn’t even return phone calls. At that time we had no idea why it was happening.
There were still a few guys I saw, and since I wasn’t aware of the rumors, I didn’t see any reason to stop. It took a lawsuit to open my eyes. The wife of one of the doctors I’d been sleeping with wanted to divorce her husband and take everything. She’d heard the rumors about me and wondered if I was the reason for her husband’s late nights.
Doing what so many scorned women with money do, she hired a detective to get the goods on her husband. I used to see the doctor in his office after hours. Somehow, the detective had rigged a video camera inside, which caught us on tape. Now the wife was suing for divorce—and I was subpoenaed to be a witness.
“You’re lucky she didn’t sue you ,” John said. “I’ve heard of cases like that, where the wife sues the other woman.”
I was furious at the casual way he was taking the lawsuit. My life was going to be exposed in open court, and John acted as though it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re in this, too,” I said.
He sneered. “No, I’m afraid you’re on your own, Jessie. I covered my tracks. I haven’t done anything that’s illegal or could cause a civil action to be brought against me.”
“It was you set me up with all of those men.”
“Dear, I didn’t ‘set you up’ with anyone. I told you that a couple of guys admired you and said they’d like to take you to lunch. You made your own dates, and you decided how you’d handle things.”
“What about the bonus you gave me when I landed an account for us?”
“What bonus? I have no record of a bonus being paid to you. Have you claimed a bonus on your income tax?”
He had me there; I hadn’t claimed the money. I’d kept it, just like any common whore would have. I felt dirty and disgusted with myself. How could I have been so delusional?
When the particulars of the divorce were revealed and my name brought out, people stopped speaking to me. The other soccer moms in the carpool refused to let their children ride with me, and neither would they pick up Lance.
“Mommy, why won’t the guys play with me at school?” he asked.
“Honey, they’re just jealous of you because you’re better than they are.” It was the only excuse my son could possibly understand. How could I tell him that the reason the boys he’d been friends with since he was five couldn’t play with him was because I’d p
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