Charley Riggs was 55 years old and a pillar of the community. He was a fat and jolly old man, and quite a flirt. I always played up to him at budget time, and I usually got what I wanted. He had tried to date me on the sly at least a dozen times, but always indirectly, with such ruses as offering me a ride somewhere, or dropping by the apartment to leave some papers for me to take to the administration office for him the next day. I had always played it very straight until that night in April.
I really did need a ride home then because my car was in the shop. And when he told me that he wanted to talk to me about something that might involve my career, I could tell that he wasn't just looking for an excuse to come inside. I fixed him a cup of coffee as we chatted about the drama projects for the year and he told me that his daughter was going to be in my class next term. And then he took on that serious look when we sat down, and I knew the purpose of his visit.
“I'm not going to mince any words, Mrs. Bryant.” He came right out with it, frowning as if the whole thing displeased him very much. “I was told something by Jim Bannon after last week's P.T.A. meeting that shocked me very much. He showed me a picture he took of you two. You've been moonlighting as a prostitute, haven't you?”
The small, beady eyes in his round and usually jovial face had lost their smile. They looked directly at me, dropping briefly to my exposure of cleavage provided by a scoop-neck blouse. Intuitively, I clutched at the neckline with my hand, as if that would somehow assure him of my modesty and virtue. But his eyes demanded an honest answer.
“Is… Jim Bannon the man who owns the hardware store on Leek Street?” I asked, swallowing my last word.
“Yes. And he has two boys in our school,” Mr. Riggs answered with a nod, clearing his throat as I crossed my legs and carefully pulled down at my skirt. “Jim recognized you at the P.T.A. meeting when the faculty was introduced, and… uh, he told me at the club the next day that he had… he and other men too… had been seeing you by appointment for thirty dollars.”
“It's true, of course,” I decided to be perfectly honest, wanting a stiff drink much more than the hot coffee. “Everyone has his… his secret life, Mr. Riggs. I have tried to be very, very careful. I have tried to keep the two lives completely segregated, separate. I dare say this is the only complaint you've heard against me in the time I've been at the school.”
“You're a wonderful teacher, Mrs. Bryant!” he insisted, gesturing with his hands. “Of course, there have been the usual jealous accusations from some of the female teachers because of your youth, your attractiveness, your sex appeal, your way with the students. But this is absolutely intolerable. I wish I could do something, Mrs. Bryant. I would love to be able to help you. You know… I find you quite an attractive woman too. What can I do though? If the word gets around that you're a prostitute…?”
“Are you a close friend of Mr. Bannon's?”
“Yes.”
“Close men friends have a way of confiding these things, don't they?”
“Yes, but…
“Mr. Bannon is married, isn't he?”
“Yes…”
“Well then I don't really think there's much danger that Mr. Bannon would ever say a single word about this to anyone who matters… do you?”
“No… of course not.”
“There are three women on the school board, Mr. Riggs. If I am to be dismissed, there will have to be some better reason than that Mr. Bannon, a married man, paid thirty dollars to have sex with me.”
I was so proud of myself for being clever. I thought I had everything figured out and that I was absolutely covered. I sat back smugly and lit a cigarette, letting my skirt creep up a few inches and not bothering to adjust it.
“Mrs. Bryant…” he said rather softly, looking at me as if he were the great white father and I was some foolish child. “Prostitution is against the law in this state. I'm sure that if I were to tell Lt. Hawkins of the vice bureau that we had reason to believe you were running a bawdy house and accepting dates for pay, it would be no problem at all to have your house watched, your movements checked, your… uh, visitors questioned. As soon as your name ended up on a police blotter, the board would automatically release you. The publicity would be ruinous.”
“Well… what is it you want?”
“I want your resignation, Mrs. Bryant,” he spoke firmly, pulling a sheaf of papers from his pocket. “I have everything typed up for you to sign. You're leaving because of a better job offer…”
“Mr. Riggs… you're not serious?” I questioned with utter disbelief, unable to believe that my whole life was suddenly crumbling just like that. “My… my record as a teacher is perfect. My private life is… quite discreet. I'm not a common whore… I just… Why, Mr. Riggs! You yourself have let me know many times that your personal interests in me were not purely as a teacher. Certainly, you recall the time last December that…”
“I guess I should have offered you thirty dollars and everything would have been fine!” he bellowed angrily, banging his cup down in the saucer. “Well, let me tell you something, Mrs. Bryant. If I had had any idea you were a professional prostitute, I would not have been interested. I was interested in you as something more than just a… a sex companion. My interests are more than flesh deep. You are truly a good teacher, an educated woman with a warm personality. I had thought… Well, no bother what I thought. I want you out of the school by next Friday.”
“Please… don't discard me just like that, Mr. Riggs,” I asked him contritely, walking over to pour myself a brandy and downing it straight, then sitting in the small chair right at his side, “I know… you can only look at this from a man's viewpoint. Try to think of me for a moment-a woman alone, a divorcee, a woman who has known love and can't live and function as a normal human being without love.
“What am I to do, Mr. Riggs? If I date normally, I am restricted to social activities, movies, dances. Even then, you know how rumors fly about a teacher who is a divorcee. And if I do make love with my so-called regular or normal boyfriends, I would gain a reputation as a tramp and be fired for that.
“If I… had dated you… allowed you to make love with me… how was I to know that it would not be just another tawdry affair for you? I… I had no way of knowing how deep and sincere your interest was. If I… just went around with a married administrator or board member, I could get fired too. Don't you see, I had no choice? The only way to have a life that filled me with the love I needed, was to be selectively and secretly promiscuous.
“I'm not a prostitute, Mr. Riggs. There were one or two married men who offered me a few dollars because they knew I… I have a daughter to support. It became a… a habit, I suppose. If I… I could find one man that I was capable of loving and who really loved me, I wouldn't care if he was married or not I need that kind of love. But it… it's impossible to find…”
“Do you mean you'd give up running around?” he asked, as I leaned toward him slowly and let my scoop-neck gape open, “You could… give up the money?”
“How much is it? Thirty dollars once a week… twice a week,” I scoffed, shaking my head and then swallowing hard, and realizing I was only hall acting. “No, Mr. Riggs, I'm not just interested in sex either… but it's a pretty important part of living. And with the right man, the sharing of sex is… is wonderful… wonderful…”
I let my head fall deliberately on his shoulder and I sobbed. There were real tears because I had worked myself into a highly emotional state when I realized that my whole future could very well depend upon what happened tonight. I was, however, unsure of myself in this particular situation. If I overplayed my hand or emphasized sex too much, I would spoil it. I desperately waited for some reaction from him before I could make my next move.
“I wish I could… believe,” he started to say, patting my head very gently, his voice unsteady, ”… that you meant this. I have… well, I'm not a very young man anymore, and I think you have excited and interested me more than any woman I have met in years. Mrs… Riggs is not interested in love, sex, whatever it is about a man and a woman that makes their association exciting. That went long ago. Her clubs, her church work, these all occupy her time.
“It may surprise you to know, Mrs. Bryant… Denise… that I have not had a relation with my wife in seven years. I have had no sex relation with any woman in seven years. When I… thought of you in this context, it has made me very, very intrigued. I can't tell you just how it has… affected me.”
