I had long known about the tradition in Charles’s family about the father taking his son to Fulfillment, New York City’s oldest and finest whorehouse, for his first sexual adventure. Charles had been taken there by his father who had been taken there by his father and so on. Charles said the legend was that his father’s male ancestors had been among the first patrons of Fulfillment way back before the Civil War.
I was also aware that occasionally Charles visited Fulfillment during our marriage. We both had grown up in promiscuous times and in our younger days had done some swinging with friends in the neighborhood, trading partners for an evening or even a weekend. Otherwise, I had never had an affair or even a one night stand, I knew Charles wouldn’t have minded but I was never really tempted. It never bothered me that Charles went to Fulfillment on occasion, it even excited me when he’d describe some exotic beauty he had fucked and we always had great sex afterwards.
As Charles lay dying, he asked me to follow through on the tradition with Chad when he turned eighteen. I was both horrified and amused, a mother taking her son to a brothel for his first fuck? Charles pressed me on it though, making me promise that the tradition would continue. I couldn’t refuse my husband and I finally agreed. Charles explained how things worked at this exclusive whorehouse. For a specific fee, one had lifetime privileges at Fulfillment. When my husband told me the fee, I had gasped, but Charles just laughed and said his own father had set aside money just so Chad could continue the family tradition. He gave me their business card and I tucked it away until a few days before Chad turned eighteen. I thought about it often, struggling with my own jealousy and the sheer weirdness of it. I was sure that Charles would have found my thoughts amusing.
I took the card from my jewelry box and while Chad was out with friends, called the number. A young sounding, very feminine voice answered. “Fulfillment, this is Alexis. How may we please you?”
“Um, my name is Diana, Diana Martin. Charles Martin was my husband.”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Martin. Please accept our condolences on the loss of your Charles. He was a good man.”
“Thank you,” I almost whispered.
“I guess you are calling to make an appointment for Chad, yes, Mrs. Martin or might I call you Diana?”
“Please. Um, yes, my son turns eighteen next week.” I was astonished that without a pause, this woman was talking as if she’d known us all our lives.
“Wonderful,” the sexy voice chuckled. “Have you asked Chad for his preferences?”
“Uh…preferences, Alexis?”
“Oh yes, Diana. Fulfillment will grant his wish as to the type of women Chad prefers. His family legacy is to be with one of our finest ladies on his eighteenth birthday. We will provide the lady of his dreams, be she an eighteen year old cheerleader or the sexiest grandmother in New York City, Caucasian, African American, Hispanic or Asian.”
I was almost speechless. Charles hadn’t informed me of this. “I…um, I honestly don’t know, Alexis. This is all so new to me.”