What does a Degree In African Art Get you?- Ch. 2

Chapter II- The Final Installment
One year later and we were open. My investors were my 1st clients and swore they would merely be hotel and spa guests (after all they were married) but I knew better. Some of them didn’t even sleep on the same side of the house as their husbands let alone the same room or bed. They should have their fun, their husbands certainly did with the maids, babysitters of the past and so forth.
The hardest part was advertising. How to say what we offered with out actually saying it?

“OUR STAFF IS FRIENDLY, FUN AND READY TO HELP WITH ANY AND EVERY NEED.”

My best marketers were of course my lady investors who ate the place up, literally. Turns out my small city had a big niche that I was filling. By the 3rd quarter we were fully booked, really busy and turning a profit. We were in!

And the husbands were out. Outside of our doors, that is. It didn’t take too long for the men with the wandering eye to wander right over to my burgeoning business. Tired of coming home to find no one there to ignore them they began to investigate the disappearance of their wives. When they finally found them and our shop they were astonished. No longer were their women wasting away. Not only were they getting their kicks in the bedroom but they were eating healthily, taking classes to workout or fill their brain. We had yoga, water aerobics, dance, art, lit classes, history classes, the works! We were truly a full services spot. We made it so that if you could afford it you never needed to leave. And that was the problem.

I looked outside my office window one morning to find a swarm of middle aged and older men standing on the front terrace shouting and holding up signs, many of which read something like “WOMAN COME HOME!” Pretty bad marketing ploy if you ask me. I guess this day was inevitable. I sighed and got up taking the elevator to the lobby. This was going to be interesting.

My assistant Tammy rushed up to me when I stepped out of the elevator and said “They have this wiled eyed look about them. Should I call the cops?”

“No, no, I’ll handle this,” I said haughtily. I walked straight out the front doors with a few of my regulars scurrying behind me and more women coming to see what was happening every second (they of course stayed behind the glass doors). I stood on top of one of our big tree pots, put my hands up and shouted “Gentlemen, if you please.” Silence began rippling through the crowd as they realized I was there and I was their main enemy.

Of course right at that moment my mind went completely blank. What do you say to a crowd of angry men whose wives you’ve basically stolen of their own free will? I winged it.

“I come here today in peace to say that this place is a haven for these women, my clients. Tired of being ignored and replaced by a younger version of themselves they can come here and feel good about themselves. They can relax, learn, work out, indulge in food and fantasies, be themselves and feel loved. Something I believe many of them were lacking with you men here” I took a breath. No bad for on the fly. And then I heard,

“Fuck that. Give us our wives back!”

I felt something wet and slimy pelted at me. An egg! Someone had thrown an egg at me! As I wiped the yolk off my face someone shouted,

“Give em back!” Uproar followed in agreement.

“We’re not possessions to be taken, Robert!” one of my regulars came stroming out shouting at one of the men in the front.

“Baby, I miss you. Please come back. The house is lonely without you,” Robert said in a sweet subdued tone.

“Oh, your little whore Laurie can’t help spice the place up?”

“That’s over sweetie. She’s not you, Barb.”

“She wasn’t ever me you son of a bitch!” With that Barb slapped Robert fresh across the face. Robert put his hand up to his face looking stunned. The group seemed frozen in anticipation. What was next? Like the silence before a massive disaster such as a tornado or hurricane, quiet permeated throughout space and time, it seemed. Then as quickly as it came the silence was gone, replaced by a tumult of anger, screaming and rushing women. In a mad flood all my patrons came out of the building. They spread through the men (probably to find their respective husbands- though some just to reek revenge on whomever was closest) shouting, hitting, pulling at anything they could get a hold of. Men cowered from the blows, some tried to fight back meagerly and others just took it.

From my perch on the tree pot I looked over the mayhem I had caused and grinned. The war had started and I could only hope and imagine how it would end.