A Temporary New Wife

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter Eight

2004-09-19T13:02:00.000-04:00

http://authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER EIGHT

That evening Wilson waited with some anticipation, but his anxiety didn’t last long. At 7:20 the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“It’s Jean. I thought about it all afternoon. I’m ready to do it, to be your temporary wife. Do we need a ceremony?”
Wilson chuckled. “The only ceremony will be at the doctor’s office. Don’t quit your job quite yet, but can you take half a day off Tuesday? I’ll make the appointment Monday and call you.”
“That should be OK, kind sir. Here’s my phone number.” She gave it to him, and then became unexpectedly a bit kittenish. “And Wilson?” she said.
“Yes?”
“I probably would have slept with you anyway if you had just asked. But this is much, much better. It’s a real adventure.”
“I’m extremely happy you feel that way. It really is something exciting to look forward to for me also. I’m very lucky to have met you.”
“So long for now, temporary wife. I’ll call Monday.”
Evidently both of them had been reluctant to hang up. This was looking better than he could have imagined just a week ago.
Monday morning’s job: Dr. John Klein, who was a younger friend of Bill Goldberg’s, would now have to be primed about what to look for in his examination.

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter Seven

2004-08-01T21:41:00.000-04:00

http://www.authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER SEVEN

By Saturday morning Wilson was pretty sure that it was now or never. If the groundwork hadn’t been completed by now, it never would. Wilson mused that his experience showed him that women reacted with much more trust if they didn’t feel rushed or pushed into any kind of liaison with a man. This was not a linear but a geometrical relationship; taking one extra day for buildup might result in a fourfold increase in trust. All in all, he was pretty satisfied with himself.
He drove to the general meeting area, and as anticipated had a little trouble parking. Finally he just decided to use a public garage.
As Wilson walked up to Jean at the agreed time and place, he inquired, “Did you drive? I had all kinds of trouble parking.”
` “No, I took a bus.”
He took her arm and as they entered the park Wilson said, “Let’s find an empty bench.”
Rather deep inside the park they finally found one. They sat and just looked at each other for a minute or two, neither apparently wanting to speak first. Finally Wilson broke the ice.
“Here’s the offer I would like to make to you. For a set period of time — and this is very central to the proposal — say, six months, I will give you room and board in my house, at absolutely no charge. I will help you in every way to get yourself into an appropriate training program, including paying your tuition if it’s needed. You in turn will agree to make every effort to make this project a success. Both of us together will make this our top priority.
“While you are doing your training I will do all the necessities — shopping, cooking, cleaning, unless you legitimately have some time to pitch in. I will encourage you, push you, scold you if necessary; anything to get your skills upgraded and into the work force at a significantly higher level than now. Do you follow me so far?”
All Jean could say was, “Yes, but . . . why?”
Wilson replied, “To help you, of course. And I’ve had enough experience as a technical trainer so that I can give you lots of professional advice.
“If I may expound a little further … I also know that all work and no play makes Jill a dull girl, so I will on occasion take to movies, cultural events, the like. Also, I will finance a brief trip or two to see your children. As you can see, this is far from a strictly business proposal. I will be caring for you all the time during the project period.”
Jean couldn’t wait to ask the central question. “But why would you do this for me? What do you get out of it?”
He answered, “The pleasure of helping to turn your life around. And . . . during this time, you would function as my temporary wife.”
Jean’s mouth dropped open. After a minute’s silence, which struck Wilson as a long time, she said, “That’s the strangest proposition I ever heard, and probably the most . . . I don’t know what. But . . . you’re not just trying to seduce me, are you?”
Wilson smiled. “What I’m saying has much more in common with a marriage proposal than a seduction. Except that it’s only for a specified time, and for a specific purpose. It’s unusual in one other way too. You can terminate the arrangement at any time; you don’t have to wait for the term to be up. You have to feel free and not trapped in any way.
“But you have a right to know a little more about me. I’m interested in all sorts of things; music, mainly classical; movies; plays; baseball and football.” Wilson then turned to describing his own career history, his marriage and divorce, his children and grandchildren. “I’m sixty-four. My arithmetic tells me you’re about forty.”
Jean replied, “Forty-one, forty-two next month. But . . . still I don’t feel any great lack of communication between us in spite of our age difference . . . You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about. Do you have to have an answer right now?”
Wilson smiled and answered, “You know that everything I’ve done so far has been … without my trying to push you, to make you feel as free as possible. Like today’s meeting; it was in the daytime and in public, so you could feel completely safe. Of course you can have a little time. Here’s my phone number and address. You can call or come to visit, whatever you want.”
“It won’t take me long. But . . . let’s go now,” she said.
Wilson took her arm and they walked out of the park. “So long,” Jean said, but this time he took her in his arms and gently kissed her lips.
“Please let me know soon,” he said.

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter Six

2004-07-25T21:12:00.000-04:00

http://www.authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER SIX

At 6:40 Wilson walked into the Gourmet Lauderdale, indicated his name on the reservation, and was led to his table. When he was seated comfortably, he perused the menu, mostly so that he could suggest something for Jean when she arrived. Was he really being too much of a control freak? Did he really have to control every aspect of the situation so completely? Did he have to be so self-critical?
At two minutes after seven, Jean walked in. Wilson waved and in a moment Jean had joined him at the table.   She was tastefully but still somewhat casually dressed in a white blouse and blue skirt. Good, he thought. She’s self-confident enough not to try to impress by overdressing.
“Would you be annoyed if I said you look quite lovely?” asked Wilson. “If you would be I won’t say it. I know this isn’t supposed to be a date, where such things are expected.”
Jean smiled. “I’m glad you aren’t going to say it, so now I don’t have to say thank you.”
“Let’s order, and then we can talk,” said Wilson, perhaps a little too business-like. “Do you see anything that catches your eye?”
“I think I’ll have the chicken cordon-bleu,” replied Jean.
Wilson liked her definiteness, at least about the food. Was she that way about other things? He said, “I’ll have the filet mignon, medium rare.” The waiter took the order and departed.
“Tell me a little more about yourself,” Wilson resumed. "Where do you work?”
“I’m a salesperson in a little dress shop near the beach,” she replied. “No, I don’t particularly want that to be my life’s work. That’s why I’d like to improve my skills, so I can go into a more interesting field.”
“What kind of field?”
“That’s one of my problems. I’m not really sure.”
“While you are getting such skills, I imagine you wouldn’t have any way of supporting yourself,” said Wilson, “If I accurately interpret the conversation you were having with the school salesman at the job fair.”
“You do; and that’s to say nothing of the money I have to send my mother to help support my kids.”
“I have to tell you that the county scholarships, even if you got one — and they’re scarce — could hardly provide what you need,” said Wilson. “How much do you have to send to your mother?”
“Well, maybe I don’t absolutely have to, but … at least $100 a week.”
“I think that would be feasible under the program,” replied Wilson, somewhat matter-of-factly.
“You mean that … plus my own living expenses . . . and also tuition?” she replied.
Wilson could see her incredulousness rising as she asked, “What do I have to do for all that?”
For the moment, Wilson sidestepped that question. Since it was at the heart of the issue, the answer had to be broached very carefully.
“You also have another need, you know, which is not monetary,” he continued, a comment that produced a slightly puzzled look on Jean’s face..
“It is for someone to guide you, or be available to do that, at every step in your training. Otherwise, you might waste a lot of time before deciding what you want to do and when you do decide, how exactly to go about it. That would be a waste to the program. For that reason it will make an investment not only in money but in direct guidance and support.”
The food was brought and that act defused the potentially emotion-charged moment. “Let’s eat while the food is hot,” said Wilson.
“Yes, Dad,” smiled Jean. Immediately she developed a slightly embarrassed expression at her own unexpected casualness. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t referring to anything but your parental concern.”
Wilson wondered if she was also referring to their age difference. “I do have a tendency to be a bit of a control freak. But in this context,” he continued, digging into his steak, “There is a slight excuse. If you are selected for the program, I will be your guide. And I intend to see that you really get to work upgrading your career training. I will be after you every day. I won’t let you even begin to slide away from that main objective …. Does that sound a little harsh?”
“No, it’s probably what I need. Still, I’m very puzzled,” Jean said. “By the way, in case you were going to ask, the chicken is delicious. I’m a bit of a anticipation freak myself.”
Wilson smiled and then confessed, “I was. Now, tell me what puzzles you most.”
She replied quickly, as though unburdening herself of a concern that had been troubling her for a while. “Why would this program offer to change my life for the better out of a clear blue sky? I haven’t even applied for any scholarship help yet. My academic record was a long time ago; it was good but not great. Besides, it was in Kentucky. What’s special about me?”
Wilson responded carefully. “I’ll answer some of those questions tonight, but I’d like to reserve the rest for another time. Not more than a few days from now. Maybe Saturday. Largely, it’s to give both of us a chance to consider. In order for me to formulate a full answer, I’ll have to ask you more questions. Some will be personal. Is that OK?”
“Well, I think so. I don’t think I have any skeletons in the closet.”
“Good,” said Wilson, “And this is certainly a pleasant place to have a relaxed if … probing discussion. First, I’d like to know where you live … not the address, but what is your housing situation?”
“I’m sharing a little apartment in Margate with a girl friend. That isn’t going to last much longer, because she’s leaving Florida and going back to Kentucky in about a month. Fortunately it’s just a month-to-month rental. I’ll have to find something else, though.”
Wilson considered that, but asked a different question. “Do you have a boy friend currently?”
Jean seemed a little surprised, but answered, “No, not now. Not since I broke it off about a year ago.”
Wilson explained with the partial truth. “I’m just trying to assess the likelihood of your being stalked if you change your residence. I’m also … trying to find out if you are a statistical candidate for AIDS or some other sexually transmitted disease.   I won’t probe into any more intimate questions on that topic, other than to ask you to tell me if you think you are.”
“I’m almost sure I’m not. I’ve been very careful for a long time. And I haven’t had more than … a few partners in my life,” replied Jean. “I’m also sure no-one is interested in stalking me at this late date, or they would have already.”
“If we agree on the arrangements,” said Wilson, “And if you are selected, I hope you won’t mind if we do a full medical examination, including lab tests. Do you have any medical problems that you know of?”
“Nothing that I know of. I did sprain my foot a few months ago; it still hurts a little when I’m on my feet too long … such as when I work,” replied Jean.
That seemed as straightforward an answer as Wilson could expect. “How did you do it? Were you skiing down Commercial Boulevard?”
Jean seemed to welcome this bit of levity. “It was actually University Drive. No, I was running for a bus.”
Wilson studied Jean’s face in more detail than he had at any time previously. Wide-set large blue eyes; high cheekbones; neat medium-cut light brown hair. She was really quite pretty.
“Tell me something about your interests,” he said. "And are you ready for dessert?”
“Just some fruit. Like everyone else, I’m trying to keep my figure.”
Wilson gave the dessert order to the waiter and then said, “You’re doing an outstanding job.”
Jean smiled and then her expression turned a little more serious. “Thank you again. This is . . . the most peculiar business meeting I’ve ever had, not that I’ve had so many. You keep paying me personal compliments, tasteful and clever as they might be. It’s almost … more like a date.”
Wilson now smiled in return. “Do you mind?”
“That’s what bothers me. I don’t. Objectively, I should be a little suspicious, but I don’t feel that way. My reaction is that you seem to be a really nice, up-front man. I really feel sort of comfortable, even though I shouldn’t.”
Wilson smiled again. “Are you against mixing business with pleasure? It’s really OK here.   And I’ll tell you something else. I love your accent”
Jean giggled engagingly. “See what I mean? That’s not businesslike. I’ll just have to let it pass. By the way, I don’t have any accent. Everyone else here has an accent … Now, if you don’t mind, let me answer your question . . . about my interests. Besides my children, I like walking on the beach, seeing a good movie, good music … Mostly ‘easy listening’.   Certainly not current rock.”
“Is that music?” Wilson asked.
Jean smiled again. Wilson liked that she was doing a lot of that. She continued, “I haven’t heard much classical. I think I’d like to, though. Let me see, interests … Oh, books, certainly. I’ve always read a lot. Also … football, I guess. A holdover from high school, probably. Maybe baseball a little. Certainly not racing, though I’m from horse country. Is that enough?”
“There aren’t any rules. Those sound fine. According to the Wilson Wall way of thinking, you sound pretty normal.” Wilson paid the bill and asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“I do have to get up for work tomorrow,” she replied. “But I’m really interested in the program. When did you say we would meet again?”
“How about Saturday, around 2:00, just at the A1A entrance to Hugh Taylor Birch Park.”
“That sounds fine . . . and Wilson?” she said, questioningly, “Could you tell me Saturday everything I want to know? I think I’ve been patient enough. My curiosity is at the bursting point.”
“I will, and that’s a promise,” replied Wilson with emphasis.
They shook hands and went their separate ways, a mood of anticipation enveloping their goodbyes.

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter Five

2004-07-18T18:28:00.000-04:00

http://www.authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER FIVE

Wilson woke up on Wednesday morning full of enthusiasm. He could hardly believe that the he actually made a potential contact, just the way his theory had predicted. Was he just incredibly lucky, or were there attractive women to be found looking for jobs or training in every relevant place - unemployment offices, county training sites, as well as job fairs? Wilson didn’t know. With continued luck, he wouldn’t even have to find out until the end of the term of his first project.
Of course, there was still a great deal of work to be done before he could state definitely that Jean would be his initial project. However, he was certainly hoping she was. She was attractive enough without question, and seemed to be open and intelligent as well. He wondered whether there anything hidden that would disqualify her. Aids? A stalking lover? Even worse, a present active lover? Something he wouldn’t even have thought of? Well, we’ll take one step at a time.
Then, of course, there was the problem of how to break the full nature of the project. If the realization were too stark, she might just run away without thinking it all out, afraid only that Wilson was some kind of predator. Well, he certainly didn’t feel like one, so with right and truth on his side he had only to consider how he should approach the subject to reach a successful conclusion.
Wilson spent the rest of the day considering a number of alternative routes to his destination. It was certainly an interesting problem, but he hoped all that considering would not make his approach, whatever it turned out to be, too wooden and unspontaneous. Let’s hope not, he said to himself. He was looking forward Thursday evening with serious enthusiasm, and wanted things to go without a hitch.

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter Four

2004-07-11T19:02:00.000-04:00

http://www.authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER FOUR

Two days later Wilson found himself driving around the coastal area of Ft. Lauderdale, taking in the sights of the beach. Mainly, he was looking at the scantily clad female bodies which abounded in that location. He told himself that he was trying to test the accuracy of the conclusions arising from his self-study. Even as he was validating most of them, and even mentally disseminating some of his patented leg ratings on occasion, he had to admit that this work was fun. He hadn’t really made much progress since his talk with Janet and his subsequent self-examination; perhaps the “labor of thinking” had really worn him out. Since he was getting thirsty, he decided to stop and get a soda. In the drug store where he purchased a diet coke he decided to pick up a newspaper to keep himself busy while imbibing the drink.
On the back page of the paper he saw an ad for a one-day job fair exposition at the Convention Center. Whoa, It was today …. Well, maybe it was worth stopping by there for an hour or two. At least it was related in one potentially important way to the Wilson Project. He was all new at this anyway. There had no way of telling what might turn up at such a venue.

As he drove the short distance to the Broward County Convention Center, Wilson once again thought about his insights of the last few days. From his own concrete experience, he realized that he wasn’t a kid who really believed that the physical characteristics of a woman was end of the story. In his day he had in fact known women of highly desirable physical attributes whose rough, masculine, or otherwise unpleasant characters completely negated the attractiveness of those attributes. Conversely, he had known women of lesser physical attractiveness who were made much more attractive by feminine softness, coquettishness or whatever. That itself was an interesting phenomenon worthy of separate study … but at some future time. None of this detracted in his mind from the importance of physical beauty, but merely put it into a context. Besides, the relatively brief nature of each of the projects he had in mind necessarily put more emphasis on an immediately viewable set of characteristics than those which would be revealed only slowly.
He reached his destination, parked, and walked into the Convention Center. Following the signs, he emerged into the main hall, a medium-size exposition space appropriate to a city the size of Ft. Lauderdale. There were booths set up throughout, with a large variety of jobs apparently being offered to potential employees . There were cruise lines looking for personnel; temporary staffing firms trying to hire office supervisors; fast food chains looking for entry-level managers. As Wilson walked around, he even saw the Sheriff’s Office looking for correctional personnel, both male and female. From the point of view of sociological observation, it was interesting. However, Wilson didn’t immediately see anything or any one that he could think might advance his project.

Most of the people walking around, the job seekers, were fairly young — twenties and thirties. He got the impression, from listening to fragments of several passing conversations, that most jobs were close to entry level but had some potential for eventual career advancement. It didn’t seem that the training dilemma, which was key to his project, was an important issue to any of the job applicants he overheard.
In the far corner, as Wilson ambled on, was a booth representing one of the local training schools. A representative was engaged in an earnest conversation with a woman. “ … You’ve first got to decide what area you are interested in. The county has some money for scholarships for people to upgrade their job skills. You could try for one of those. Unfortunately the school itself doesn’t have any funds to give prospective students.”
“How would I support myself while I’m getting the training?”, she asked in a pleasing mid-South accent.
“That’s a little out of our area ... but see what the county has,” came the reply.
This was quite interesting, the more so since Wilson saw that the woman was quite attractive; late thirties to early forties, and by approaching the scene from behind he was even able to label her with leg score of 85. Was this his first heaven-sent opportunity?
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. As the woman started to walk away, Wilson ambled up, effected his most engaging smile, and introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Wall. I couldn’t help overhearing your discussion about a scholarship for job training. I think I know of a possible program that would support an appropriate person while she is being trained. It’s partly based on need, partly on good character.”

She seemed surprised but for the moment her attention was caught. “Do you have any brochures or advertising for the program?” she asked.
“It’s a very private program and open only to a selected few. It certainly wouldn’t be advertised to the public. Each person has to be chosen very carefully. It might very well be something that could benefit you enormously. It’s a little noisy in here; if you’d like to hear more, we could go downstairs for a cup of coffee.”
She seemed to be hesitant momentarily, as if weighing the chances of some untoward event happening, but then overcame her reticence. “OK. But I haven’t taken any application exams for a long time. I … guess you have me a little interested.”
Wilson realized that almost certainly meant in the program, not in him, but he continued, “There are no written or even oral exams to take. The selection is made only by an extensive interviewing process. It also doesn’t cost anything to apply.”
They walked into the downstairs coffee shop and fortunately found a table right away. “Would you also like something to eat? I’m a little hungry myself,” said Wilson. “How about a sandwich and coffee or soda?”
“That sounds good,” she said after a little hesitation, and they placed the order with the waitress who had presented herself. “My name is Jean Weldon,” she said.
“May I ask you some questions?” queried Wilson. "By the way, please call me Wilson.”
“Of course. What would you like to know, Dr. Wall … er … Wilson?”

“Please tell me about yourself. You can get as personal as you like, or you don’t have to discuss anything personal at all. What I’d like to hear about are your career aspirations.” Wilson deliberately chose a word not often used in conversation as a kind of general culture test. Good God, he was on a roll. How had he got up the nerve for this?
Jean didn’t seem at all nonplused. “Well, I come from a little town in Kentucky. I was studying to be a teacher at the local community teachers’ college but got married when I was twenty-two and then dropped out. I’m not sure how I feel now about teaching; I wouldn’t want to think about going through a regular college education course. I haven’t the time or the money. But I’ve always been good with words, with explaining things to people, including children.”
“Do you have any children?” asked Wilson. “I’m just trying to find out what kind of obligations on your time and finances you have.”
“I have two teen-age children, a boy and a girl. Fifteen and eighteen. My husband walked out on me five years ago; we’ve been divorced for four years. Both of them are living in Kentucky with my mother.” She looked down for a moment, as if this wasn’t a very happy situation. “I think … he didn’t want the responsibility any more.”
Wilson caught the probable significance and asked, “Do you see your children often?”
“I haven’t for over a year. Traveling is really expensive.”
“Well,” continued Wilson, “In a case like yours, believe it or not, travel to visit family would be one of the benefits.”

“This is starting to sound unusually … well, maybe too good. Are you sure this is all on the level?” She caught herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I’m just trying to figure all this out.”
“That’s fine; it’s all right to be a little suspicious. I might be in your position too. Not only is it on the level, but you would know exactly what’s expected from you. If you were accepted by the program, and it was acceptable to you, you would still have the right to withdraw from it at any time. You wouldn’t even have to sign anything. Only completely honest people are chosen, so your word would be your bond.”
“Could you tell me more about it?” said Jean, with renewed enthusiasm.
“I will,” replied Wilson. “The important thing to understand is that it is designed to allow you to get the education and training to upgrade your career skills or develop new ones. You’d be provided with all the necessities of living while you are doing it. In addition, someone will help to guide you to get that training and help you at every step, whenever you need it. I know at this stage it might sound too good to be true. However, I can assure you that I am not trying to recruit you for the FBI, CIA, the military, or for any criminal organization or enterprise.”
Now Jean seemed really puzzled. “How much will this cost me?,” she asked.

“Not one penny,” replied Wilson. “But now I’m going to tell you something a little unusual again. The whole program is best explained and digested over a few days, not all at once. So, the next step is to make another appoint-ment to meet. In a day or a few days, whenever you can. Is that all right? We can meet in a public place, a restaurant if you like. I want you to feel completely at ease.”
“I guess that’s all right. How about Thursday evening.”
“Do you know the Gourmet Lauderdale? Maybe at 7.”
“I know where it is, but I certainly never could afford that place on my own. I’m a poor working girl,” smiled Jean. She seemed a little more relaxed.
“And if all goes well, you be a somewhat richer working girl, at a job you really like. By the way, did you say your husband walked out on you several years ago? If you don’t mind my saying, evidently his eyesight was failing,” said Wilson a little jauntily.
Jean smiled a little shyly. “That is one subtle compliment. Thank you, Sir.” The check came, Wilson paid it, and they walked out.
“See you Thursday,” said Wilson, with a reserved wave, as Jean went toward the parking garage.
“So long,” she said, with an ingratiating smile. "And thanks. I think.”

The next day was Wednesday. Wilson had deliber-ately given himself a day to think and consider. Hmm … he was doing a lot of that lately.

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter Three

2004-07-04T15:25:00.000-04:00

http://www.authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER THREE

Wilson got home in good time. He had the better part of the day left in which to plan how best to put his theoretical campaign into practice. He had received, he thought, as good a reception from Janet as he could have expected. He had deliberately chosen her first as the person to which to present his idea, since she was more than likely to find flaws and to react negatively. But she really hadn’t, beyond an initial knee-jerk attack which didn’t stand up on later examination. Maybe he was on to something after all.
With nothing pressing to do any more today, Wilson had time to think about the physical characteristics he found attractive in a woman. Again, in the safety of his own thoughts he was free to be brutally frank and to let his thoughts wander into detailed elaboration.
In a sense this was unfair. No one, man or woman, was responsible for the symmetry of their facial features, the shape of their legs, the uplift of their breasts, the effect of age on all these … and in the end they could only do limited corrections in these areas, some of which inevitably had to come undone when they took their clothes off.

Still, though that was the kind and understanding way to look at the question, it was really irrelevant to today’s self examination. Well, first of all he liked a good face on a woman. It could be pretty, but too many pretty faces were really vacuous. It was an expressive face he was attracted to, especially in the eyes. The mouth too was important. If it seemed tense for long periods it could be a sign of real bitchery, he had decided long ago. He tended to like blond hair, medium long, but was not hung up either on color or length. This was getting interesting; he should write down these items in a list. So he began to write in a bound notebook, which he kept on his desk.
Then there were the legs, in some ways his favorite part of a woman. To be honest with himself, since nobody else was listening, he confessed that he almost had a leg fetish. In fact, he had years ago devised a kind of rating system. The perfect legs were 100; he had never seen any female who had reached that exalted level, but he had seen one or two 95's. The rating was based on the whole impression, not a sum of the parts. He was smart enough to know that people’s body segments couldn’t be fitted into arithmetic systems like precision machine parts.
What Wilson particularly loved was what Thomas Harris calls "hard ankles” — maybe "chiseled” would be a better term — in which the rear and side bones and sinews were most clearly defined. Next the calves; here the most important feature was the inner, not the outer mid portion. Its shape should be clear and separate, the curve not blending in with either knee or ankle. The knee itself should be defined but “demure”, its side bones not be too prominent. The thigh, to contribute positively to the overall impression, should be rather thin but a little muscular.

That was the top and the bottom. The middle, the figure proper, was not an attribute that Wilson had rigid ideas about, by and large. He knew that some men only were attracted to quite thin women, others (a much smaller number) to so-called “full-figured” women. His own attraction mechanism could accommodate reasonably all the way from not extremely thin to somewhat overweight figures. The most important thing about a woman’s figure was that it should give an overall impression of shapeliness. He wasn’t even particularly focused in on large breasts. He considered men who were to be uncultured oafs. Didn’t they know that the most important attribute of a woman’s breasts was a good, uplifted shape, not size?
This kind of reductionism of the female form to a set of listable physical attributes was really hedonistic, self-indulgent, and obnoxious. The trouble was that it was true, and it was himself.

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter Two

2004-06-25T11:50:00.000-04:00

http://www.authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER TWO

At 12:15 PM Wilson walked into the Honshu Inn, the Japanese restaurant where he had arranged to meet his friend Janet Goldberg, a social worker whom he had known since they had both lived in Chicago. Janet was a sixty-two year old, quite attractive woman who had managed to look at least eight years younger. This, Wilson knew, was the result of primal effort. Not only the treadmill and the Nautilus were part of this grueling work, but continual appetite redirection as well. Furthermore, she knew and practiced something that many other women — and men too — failed to take into account. If you wanted your skin to remain as firm and elastic as possible, stay out of the sun.
Janet’s husband of 35 years, Bill, had once been Wilson’s internist. As soon as Bill retired twelve years ago, the Goldbergs sold their city apartment and moved to Florida, into a mid-scale house about three miles from Wilson. Both Janet and Bill had been such good friends for so long that, rarity of rarities, Wilson found it difficult to say who was really his primary friend now.
“Ah, there you are, J,” Wilson said as he walked over to the table where she was already seated. As soon as he was comfortably situated, he picked up the menu. He loved Japanese food. Fresh vegetables, wonderful textures and colors, nothing overcooked. Probably the product of an economy in which fuel is at a premium, he thought. Nothing here to misdirect Janet’s lifelong effort to remain beautiful either. He studied the menu attentively.
“What’re you having?” he asked, looking at her over his half reading glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose.
“I guess the sashimi luncheon,” she replied.
“Excellent. Me too,” he said enthusiastically. I’ve been fearless ever since I had my hepatitis A shots.”

The waiter took the order, which Wilson communicated with pleasurable anticipation, and after a short silence Janet said, “So . . . what was the idea you wanted to 'bounce off me’?”
He thought for a minute about how to introduce his idea without being misunderstood, not that he hadn’t already thought about it on the way over. “Well . . . I’ve been thinking about the ways men and women relate to each other.”
“Now there’s an unusual and truly deep subject for consideration. Are you sure you need a social worker? Maybe a philosopher would be better.”
Wilson smiled. “Right now I’ll settle for a friend . . . What I’ve been thinking about is a somewhat novel idea. First of all, I’m sure you are familiar with the general thinking that older men often go after younger women.”
“I’ve heard about that somewhere. Still, I think the seniors I deal with all day long seem mostly to be beyond that phase . . . though an occasional octogenarian male has been reputed to have cut a memorable swath through one or two nursing homes.”
“I imagine there was willingness if not enthusiasm by all parties concerned, because rape in that environment would certainly have been mentioned prominently in the local if not national papers.

“But that’s not what I had in mind. I think that the main reason older men go after younger women is that they consciously or unconsciously recognize the need the additional stimulation that a younger woman can provide. My concern is about the consequences of that … quest, because as normally practiced I think it has a real potential for making an emotional if not financial mess for both sides.”
“It would be hard to deny you’re right on that score. But I hope you’re not talking about all men,” said Janet, sipping some water. “I can’t quite see Bill going that way. Still, to be fair I have to agree that inevitably an older woman is generally less attractive than one significantly younger … on a strictly physical basis. That’s why as a woman gets older she has to use non-physical wiles on her man more and more. At least if she has any brains. Many don’t. It can be a full-time job that needs intelligence and creativity.”
Janet seemed for a few moments to be lost in thought.
“Let’s for the moment simply take the case of an older man who has no woman at time zero, but wants to meet one to establish a relationship,” continued Wilson. “His urge is toward a younger woman. He has no wish to marry. He wants friendship and sexual stimulation. He also wants no economic jeopardy.
“Younger women who agree to get involved with such a man might typically be interested in financial security, less commonly in emotional support. Incidentally, though I really haven’t thought it out, the whole story could be reversed; an older woman getting involved with a younger man. I don’t want to be sexist.”
“That’s very becoming of you,” smiled Janet. "Where is this all going?”

Wilson was about to jump in with an answer, but the food came and they began to eat quite happily. Crisp salad, misu soup, tea, and of course the delectable raw fish main event.
“The problem is hidden agendas,” he continued. “Suppose the man is attracted to this younger woman, and she finds him personable at least. However, unless he is a complete fool, he can’t really believe the woman would find him as sexually attractive as a younger man is likely to be. Yet, the man wants sex first for as long as he can make the woman think he has not foreclosed on a more permanent arrangement. The woman wants, first of all, security, and then maybe companionship precisely to develop a permanent relationship. Neither has any very definite time period in mind. It seems probable that the eventual result will be deceit and hurt.”
“Interesting...but you’re forgetting lunch. Eat, dollink, eat.”
"You’re taking advantage of the fact that I was raised by a half-Jewish mother,” chuckled Wilson.
After a delightful ten-minute eating break, during which they exchanged only a few words of small talk, Wilson continued. “I think I found a way out of this dilemma. Please try to understand exactly what I mean. This is not a new, clever way to be devious. On the contrary; it’s an attempt to be … almost painfully honest.

“The way to avoid all the hidden agendas is to set the objectives out clearly from the beginning, just like a contract. It doesn’t even have to be written as long as it’s crystal clear to both parties. The main thing is that it should have an end point — a definite period in which it is in force, and no further. That will be the essential element, because it avoids all the unspoken objectives that women particularly are likely to have.”
For a few moments Janet seemed to be trying to frame an answer. “I don’t think that’s likely to be too attractive a proposition to most women. The man is getting what he wants, more or less, but the woman has invested her time and emotions into a relationship that won’t go anywhere in the long-term. She’s not getting what she needs.”
“It might surprise you to find that I agree with you completely,” replied Wilson.
Janet was surprised. She asked, "So what’s the point of all this? Just an unworkable idea to bounce off me?”
“Aha!” Wilson smiled. “That’s not the end of the story at all. The answer is to find a carefully selected woman who isn’t looking for permanent secure relationship with the man in question. She is looking for something completely different, something that the man can provide during a circumscribed period. That would make the relationship fair on both sides.”
“What would she be looking for, this paragon of a female who can’t wait to sign on to such a contract?” asked Janet, more intensely. She seemed suddenly beginning to become bored with this whole discussion.

Wilson was ready. “Career training. And she isn’t a paragon. She has a serious problem. She was dumped by a man, recently or not, and is in a dead-end low-level job from which she can’t escape without more training and maybe more education. But she can’t get this, not only because she probably doesn’t have the tuition money, but even more because while she’s getting her training she has no way to support herself. In addition, if she has a dependent child, the problem is multiplied … she may also have to see the child to school, to doctors, and elsewhere, so she also hasn’t the time, as well as the money, to get the training. I know there are state programs to cover this type of situation, but they are highly inadequate both in the numbers of people covered and in their inability to provide any reasonable level of support during training.”
With apparent renewed interest at this unexpected twist, Janet started her response by agreeing. “That’s certainly a common problem, maybe more so in Florida than elsewhere. A lot of people come here so that at least they won’t freeze in winter in case all sources of support money fail. But what are you proposing, exactly?”

Wilson replied, more slowly and precisely than before.
“The man will make an agreement with this woman. It will be for a set period of time ... something like six months. He will take her into his house, and provide food and shelter during this time. The necessities will then not be a concern at all for her while she is establishing her training program. In pursuit of that last part, since the man will typically be much better educated than she, he will be in a position to help her greatly. He will also, and this could be just as important, continually give her emotional support and . . . teacherly encouragement. If she has a child, he will help by picking him up from school and the like. She, for her contribution, will agree to sex. Ideally, she should grow to consider that a plus, frosting on the cake. In all respects he will be her temporary husband; she will be his temporary wife, of the age group he wants.
“That’s my spiel. Questions? Problems?”
“My first reaction,” Janet said, a slightly wry smile on her face which she tried but couldn’t hide, “Would be, Boy! Talk about exploitation! It sounds like a new kind of prostitution,” said Janet. “Aren’t you trying to trap an economically disadvantaged woman into a forced relationship?"
“I would reply,” said Wilson, doing just that in a measured cadence while leaning back on his chair, “Not at all; by the way, your not-so-latent womanslib is showing. In this arrangement, either party is free to terminate the relationship at any time before it expires contractually. If the woman feels exploited, put upon, anything like that, she can leave. On the other hand, the man can ask her to leave if he feels she is not carrying out her part of the bargain. Inci-dentally, I think one of the main dangers is that she might not make a fully committed effort to get her career training, but just plays around as soon as her basics of life are taken care of. I hope both types of problems can be avoided by a careful ‘interview’ process, pre-agreement.”
Janet thought a while and finally said, “Well, my second reaction is that I can’t honestly find anything inherently wrong with the scheme right now, damn it! I’m sure I will after I think about it, and you can be certain you’ll hear about it when I do. I suppose you’re quite proud of yourself.”

“You said it. I’ve at least temporarily stumped the expert. I’m so smug,” Wilson smiled, “That I’ve even thought of a totally chauvinistic slogan for the program. It’s a good thing I’m not a sexist male, or otherwise I might tell you that the slogan is ‘Getting on your feet by lying on your back’. Actually,” continued Wilson in his newly expansive mode, “I have no great prejudice for or against any positioning. It could be ‘on your front, side, whatever.’”
“Oh, shut up,” Janet chuckled, neatly folding her napkin and placing it under her plate. “Are you finished? Are you ready to go?”
“Not quite. There is a practical problem to be dealt with, that I’d like your views on too. How to meet such potential applicants. How a man should go about it.”
“Are you asking me to be a pimpess?” asked Janet after a moment of consideration.
“No, just a friend,” replied Wilson with his own wry smile. “Do you ever run into such ladies? Where can they be connected with? Where’s a good place to look?”
“Well, I can’t be expected to make any introductions, in whatever guise, without jeopardizing my professional standing. Maybe even my job, if it were found out. But I can suggest some general approaches,” said Janet, seeming to think aloud. “Maybe . . . some kind of help group?”
“What kind?” asked Wilson. “For widows, divorcees, separatees?”
“Possibly.”

“Well, the problem with that is that it seems that those groups select for women who have only recently experienced some kind of separation. Or maybe it was longer, but they haven’t been able to deal with over an extended period. Either way, groups like that seems too restrictive in a . . . well, maybe not negative way, but at least an irrelevant one,” replied Wilson. “I suppose I could try one or two, without having too many expectations.”
Janet smirked slightly. “I suspected this was about you all along.”
“I’m not hiding that. But I’m also a type, with a common problem. It extends beyond any one person. It’s a new kind of approach, a quid pro quo. Both people get something they want.” Wilson seemed almost to be proselytizing.
Janet smiled reassuringly. “Wilson, you’re such a prototype. Seriously though, it’s certainly an interesting approach, and maybe not so immoral after all. I’ll certainly be interested to watch your progress. But I have to get back to work now.”
As they rose to leave, Wilson observed, “You know, in this society there really aren’t good mechanisms for people interested in connecting to meet. I don’t know whether this specific kind of a search is easier or harder. It could actually be easier,” he mused, “Because I could be looking in quite unusual places to meet women. Not at public dances, but in places like the unemployment office. Or a laundromat — people who don’t even have their own washing machines, not even in their apartment house. I’ll have to find out. It’ll be sort of interesting,” said Wilson with some finality as they left the restaurant, gave each other a friendly kiss goodbye, and started to go their separate ways. However, as Wilson walked off he glimpsed that Janet stopped and turned, seeming to contemplate him.

A Temporary New Wife by Malcolm Goodway, Chapter One

2004-06-18T12:15:00.000-04:00

http://www.authors-sell-book.com/a-temporary-new-wife.html

CHAPTER ONE

Today Wilson had made an appointment with himself to think. It certainly wouldn’t be easy, so he would probably have to force himself. He always believed there was a lot to the observation of Erasmus that a man will do anything to avoid the hard labor of thought. Probably Erasmus was thinking about pure intellectual cogitation, which was much different than what Wilson had in mind for today. In effect, he had signed up to have a long talk with himself.
What he was going to do was to query his basic program; which is to say he was going to question his own core being and try to discover some central things about himself. He hoped that wouldn’t prove either too strange or too frightening. Self-examination might even bring self-understanding, and understanding should even bring insight to future action. Maybe he might even find out some things that could be applicable to other people; specifically, to other men in his same general circumstance.

The warm Florida sun had already risen quickly on a golden and glorious October day, replete with its full complement of avian fauna - white and gray egrets, heron, cranes, plus blue jays and cardinals, all flying and darting for food around the lake. Wilson had always believed that the most characteristic feature of Florida’s natural environment was its birds - so different from the starlings and English sparrows which had long since crowded out most of the more beautiful and interesting birds in much of the rest of the country.

At first he was in a mind to take a leisurely drive down to Ft. Lauderdale Beach. The deep azure water, tinged with a brilliant lighter green and punctuated by occasional white foam caps, was a visual prize that he could almost invariably count on when the sun was as bright as it was today. It hardly ever failed to produce a soothing and focusing effect on his mind. The occasional noteworthy swimsuit-clad female body, however, was more likely to have a distracting effect; perhaps not so much because of its inherent esthetic properties but because of its infrequency.

On previous visits Wilson had thought it a shame that few women, relatively speaking, of whatever age, had bodies that were, indeed, worthy of notice. Wilson had come to the conclusion long ago that the problem was not genetics but food. Too many people were just ponderously overweight, and it showed more on the beach than elsewhere. Of course, Wilson mused, it was perfectly possible for a woman to be overweight yet still noteworthy. But that required care and effort, not indulgence.

As a passing thought Wilson wondered whether he was really a superficial son of a bitch for looking at women in such purely physical terms. Then he realized what he was actually doing and quickly dismissed his nascent self-deprecation. He was simply performing an in-depth analysis by isolating specific factors in attractiveness, not developing a world view of women.

Today, however, he decided not to make the trip to the sea, so that he could spend a little more time alone with his project. He resolved instead on a short swim in his pool. As he proceeded to ready himself for this brief diversion, a rather unexpected realization stole over him.

It came to him as he undressed and stood in front of the mirror, reflecting. In his full-length nakedness there was something elemental, leading straight to the core question: What did he really want?

With a conscious effort at complete honesty he evaluated himself from the inside out and then back again. Woodrow Wilson Wall, w.w.w., decades before his initials had arrogantly been appropriated, without permission, by the World Wide Web. Sixty-four years old. Retired engineer and medical instrument company executive. Fairly good at his old job; not a genius, probably, but certainly well thought of. Besides, there were several technical accomplishments over the years that he was proud of. Though he did no work at all now, not even consulting, he managed to keep up with his old field on an intermittent basis through the Internet.

He lived in a roomy, mid-scale 4-bedroom house in unincorporated Broward County, which he kept even though people kept saying he should sell it and move into a smaller place. Wilson liked space.

Maybe the best thing about his career from the viewpoint of the present is that after retirement it had given him a fair degree of financial security and even opened up some interesting possibilities for him.

He had no real family responsibilities either. Divorced, ex-wife remarried, two daughters and a son all married themselves and living in other states. He could see the kids and grandchildren whenever he wanted, which was not too seldom and not too often. Now, though, was the time to think about what he was really made of and where he himself wanted to go.

Looking at himself was kind of liberating, he thought. No self-delusion; just as realistic an evaluation as he could make. He was not gorgeous, but he wasn’t bad looking either. A full head of white hair. Glasses that made him look a little intellectual (maybe nerdy? Eye of the beholder). A little above medium height, not paunchy but certainly he could profitably lose at least 10 pounds. Pretty well muscled though, an attribute that he carefully nurtured at the gym thrice weekly. Maybe not a perfectly fine figure of a man, but not a bad one either.

Next he came to the principal business at issue. His genitals were still in pretty good shape; the testicles didn’t droop in the scrotal sac at all unless it was very hot. Wasn’t that an indication of continued vigor, despite his age? He hoped so. The penis, his pride and joy, was still quite straight and not at all bumpy.

However, he had intermittent problems getting a hard erection with women he went to bed with. Sometimes he couldn’t get more than half erect. He had thought about it a long time before the whole picture came together and hit him now.

He had figured it might just be age. When you passed 60 the conventional wisdom was that you should expect to "slow down”. Erections were supposed to be fewer and further between then. Was this physical? Was it inevitable? Should he think about Viagra?

If he had decided that was it, he could have resigned himself to that course of action. In fact, a few months ago he was seriously inclined toward that way of thinking. But that was before he really started to analyze all the evidence, using (he mused in a slightly self-satisfied way) his old scientific deductive powers.

There were several lines of evidence which did not quite fit in with the generally accepted view. First of all, at times he was quite capable of performing in the old way without difficulty. A wave of excitement would hit him and off he would go to the races. So he had it in him to be aroused as he did decades ago. Why had the frequency of these events diminished? The answer had come to him a few days ago. The women.

All these ideas rushed by at lightning speed; he had not actually been standing in front of the mirror for more than ten or twelve seconds. What he had experienced was not really an epiphany, for the several sub-conclusions had come to him at varying times over the last three months. However, they now all seemed to come together into a coherent whole. He turned away and started to get dressed for his swim; after that it would be the day to put his discoveries into practice.

Wilson never thought of himself as a particularly self-indulgent character. Yet, now he found it exhilarating to throw away all the sugar coating and look at the picture in its brutal reality.

Men in his age group, he reflected, usually needed more, not less psychological stimulation from a woman. Yet, the women he met in his general age group were, it had to be admitted, at least physically less stimulating than younger women. So far, this was not a great discovery. Probably it was known since the dawn of human society, and maybe before.

The logical thing to do, then, was to go after younger women. Simple? Not simple at all! When you did that, it seemed inevitable that each party to such a putative relationship would develop his and her own agenda. Each one’s plan might in general outline be guessed at by the other, but still it was unspoken, imprecise, and inexplicit, and to that extent was deceitful. However it was characterized, its implicit nature couldn’t help but be deleterious.

The man wanted stimulation and sex. What he didn’t want was the woman reaching into his bank account. Of course, any relationship with a woman, young or old, had to cost some money. But he wanted to be the one to control that, and the easiest way was to set explicit limits of time and objectives.

What was a young woman likely to want from an older man? He wasn’t likely to be as stimulating to her as a young man would be, unless she had a father complex (maybe not so rare). If it wasn’t a burning lust to go wafting off into the sunset with him, it must be “security” she was after. That was not the great revelation of the ages either.

If that was what she really wanted, then one could consider creating a condition in which the prospective younger woman could be helped to find the security she needed, not from the older man, but through him? That might be an interesting approach. How could this come about?

Wilson hypothesized that there were any number of women who, having married young, had never fulfilled a career-creating education — whether college or any other type of job training or experience. Having found themselves either dumped or widowed in their 30's, 40's or 50's without adequate financial resources, such women soon descended into an economic rut. The necessity to make a living here and now prevented them from obtaining such education, the only way they could emerge in the foreseeable future from the ranks of chronically impoverished low-level job holders. Often complicating this condition were two additional factors: the need to care for children, and an understandable reality-based chronic depression at the seemingly hopeless situation.

What was needed was a period of intervention of clearly defined duration. During this phase the woman (and perhaps her children) would be given a pleasant place to live and good food, even medical care, so that the necessities of life would not be a concern. During this critical period it was imperative that a maximum effort at appropriate career preparation be made, under the tutelage of an educated and professionally experienced man. This is the role which Wilson saw for himself.

So far, this was all one-sided. What could the woman bring to the structure, besides providing the man with the satisfaction of having greatly helped to raise her economic and psychological status? The answer was obvious. She could provide the sexual stimulation and satisfaction which the man needed from a younger woman.

Why was this any different than all the kept-woman arrangements throughout history, Wilson asked himself? Well, he finally concluded, in three primary ways: (1) It would have a clearly defined quid pro quo. What each party got out of the project was known beforehand. The more explicit the agreement, the less chance there would be for deceit, for deceit would probably kill the whole deal. (2) It would have a clearly defined time period. Either it worked or it wouldn’t in the time allotted. If it seemed to be working, a small extension might be made, but the temporary nature of the arrangement must at all costs be preserved. (3) Other than that related directly to the project, the woman would not be taking money or value from him, but would be trained, in part by him, to create her own value - a much more important and enduring attribute, he thought.

Wilson had agonized for weeks over the moral question of whether this was really some sophisticated form of prostitution. No, he finally saw in his reflected moment of realization, no more than in marriage. There would be at least some degree of caring about the other’s needs during the span of the arrangement, because otherwise how could an effort be made to satisfy them? It occurred to Wilson that the best characterization of what the woman’s status during this time would be was that of temporary wife.

Having worked out the theory, like a good engineer Wilson now turned to the practical issues. Any reading of the local newspapers showed Wilson that among the sum total of the female population he had in mind, the weakest might already have escaped into alcohol or drug dependency, or into promiscuity or even prostitution. He had no pretensions to being a psychiatrist or a social worker, so that such women for him would be intractable.

Moreover, he knew that some women had the additional burden of being chronically stalked by ex-husbands or ex-boyfriends. Sadly, Wilson knew that females in this category would also have to be excluded. He recognized that any arrangement he might make with such a female would suffer from the distractions which this would inevitably produce. He was also in no position to provide physical security either for himself or for her.

The best he could think of was to interview carefully, and to have a medical examination arranged. The latter, which would include a drug screen and probably various communicable disease antibody tests, would also have the best chance of identifying AIDS or other relevant carriers. If he believed it useful in making a final decision, he could provide for a psychological evaluation, though he felt less secure about that.

All this would be geared toward making the best selection he could. In some ways it was like hiring a candidate for a high-level job, something with which Wilson had extensive experience in his past life. But you couldn’t carry this analogy too far; this was a lot more personal. In particular, the way to find such “applicants” would have to be very different. You couldn’t just advertise for one, could you?

Wilson swam a few lengths; as he emerged from his pool he thought, maybe I should just ask Janet.