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  After three years with the accounting firm that had recruited him, Nathan with his two university friends decided to go out on their own. The three of them started Goodman and Partners with the aim of staying small, a boutique firm offering personalised service to high net-worth clients. The firm thrived and as a result did not stay small for long. Within two years they were employing twenty five accountants and sundry support staff, had to move offices twice, each time to larger premises.

  Money kept rolling in and within five years Nathan and Sylvia moved into a Toorak mansion complete with swimming pool and tennis court. The children attended private schools. Matthew went on to become a lawyer and Karen became a social worker and both moved out of home in due course, each into their own apartments which Nathan had purchased for them.

  The early years of their marriage were busy. Nathan was building up his accounting practice and Sylvia was bringing up two children, often on her own due to Nathan’s long working hours.

  It was only years later, when Nathan had the time to reflect on it, that he realised just how little he and Sylvia had in common. Nathan loved to read. He would devour a novel a week sometimes. Sylvia’s idea of reading was a Vogue magazine and even then she really only looked at the pictures. Nathan loved live theatre which Sylvia found boring. He loved the movies, especially comedies and would laugh out loud while Sylvia would, at best, force herself to smile. He had once suggested they go to the opera only to be met by such a look of derision that he never made that suggestion again.

  There was one area however where they did have common ground. Nathan considered himself to have a healthy sexual appetite and Sylvia shared that to the fullest. They had an intense, passionate and adventurous sex life which they both found very satisfying. Perhaps that was the glue that kept the marriage together.

  As the years went by Sylvia’s appetite did not diminish. She kept herself trim and fit, she exercised at the gym at least five times a week and could perform intercourse in positions that Nathan was sure were not humanly possible.

  While Nathan’s appetite also did not diminish, his performance did, as so often was the case in men entering middle age. He felt himself duty bound to explain to Sylvia on many occasions that it was the man who had to do most of the work while the woman just had to lie there, which in Sylvia’s case was not exactly true.

  As he entered his fifties he began to experience what was politely known as erectile dysfunction. What he really had, in plain terms, was difficulty getting it up and keeping it up.

  Then Viagra came to the rescue. While it was indeed a miracle drug for the impotent male, there was the unavoidable delay which could be as short as twenty minutes or as long as thirty five. Sylvia, who once aroused, had no patience for waiting, found this most frustrating. Try as he might, Nathan never got the timing of taking the blue pill just right. On those occasions when Sylvia was particularly horny, she would start without him and sometimes even finish without him, leaving Nathan with his penis swollen, begging for relief. If Sylvia felt in a generous mood she would provide that relief. If not, it was left to Nathan to do, which he found totally demeaning.

  In total they had thirty five years of marriage. Some happy, some not so happy. They rarely quarrelled. Life drifted along pleasantly enough until the day that Sylvia announced that she was leaving him for the fitness instructor and he moved out of the Toorak mansion into a flat in Southbank owned by his firm’s self-managed superannuation fund.

  ‘Mr Goodman. We are about to land, please fasten your seatbelt.’ Alice’s voice brought him back. He fastened his seatbelt and looked out of the window to see the Sydney skyline as the plane landed smoothly and taxied to the gate. He waited for the seatbelt sign to be switched off. He was in no hurry to get up but did eventually. He retrieved his hand luggage and deplaned, smiling at Alice as she bid him a good stay in Sydney.

  Moments later he was in the arrivals hall. He had no luggage to collect. He spotted the driver holding up an iPad with the name ‘Mr N Goodman’ displayed. The driver insisted on taking the overnight bag from Nathan and wheeled it to the waiting limousine. Nathan got into the front seat and thirty minutes later was checking into the Shangri La Hotel and five minutes after that was in his room. He had stayed at the Shangri La many times before but had never ceased to be awed by the view of the Harbour with its distinctive Bridge and Opera House. He spent a few minutes admiring the view, then removed his shoes and jacket and lay on the bed. Normally he would have rung home to report to Sylvia that he had arrived safely, but there was no longer any need to do that. He was about to turn on the TV when his mobile phone rang.

  ACT 2

  ANOTHER DOOR OPENS

  ‘Hello, is this Mr Goodman, Nathan Goodman?’

  It was a woman’s voice, a little husky. Nathan did not recognise the voice at all. Perhaps it was the hotel front desk calling him but they would use the hotel phone, not the mobile.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied tentatively.

  ‘Thank goodness. Have you just arrived from Melbourne on Qantas flight 451?’

  Maybe it was the airline.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you remember your seat number?’

  Where was this heading? He wondered.

  ‘I’m sorry. Do you mind telling me what this is all about?’

  ‘Of course, sorry. I should have introduced myself. My name is Cassandra Roberts. I was on flight 451 and I think I took your overnight bag by mistake.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Nathan replied, sounding annoyed. ‘I’m looking at my bag right now. It is no more than three feet away from me.’

  ‘Is your bag a Samsonite?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Silver with a grooved surface. Cosmolite?’

  ‘Yes, I’m staring it as we speak.’

  ‘I think you are actually looking at my bag. I have the same one and I was in seat 3A and must have taken yours instead of mine.’

  Nathan recalled he was in 2A. Perhaps this woman was not a weirdo after all.

  ‘How can you be sure you’ve got mine?’ he asked.

  ‘I opened it of course, assuming it was my bag. I found your notebook, that’s how I got your name and number.’ Then she added, ‘I also found your socks, underwear and shirts. You are not a very neat packer, you know.’

  Nathan laughed, he couldn’t help himself.

  ‘Okay, you’ve got my bag, but how do I know I’ve got yours?’

  ‘Easy, walk up to the bag, on the top just below where the handle comes up you will see a tag. It says ‘C. Roberts, 7 Riverside Quay, Southbank’.’

  ‘Okay, I can see it. Would you like me to open it and see just how neatly you pack?’

  ‘No, please don’t. I am sorry about my comment. Please don’t open my bag. It has very personal items inside. Please…,’ her voice was pleading.

  ‘Relax, just kidding. Of course I won’t open it.’

  ‘So how shall we do this? Do you want to meet somewhere to make the exchange?’ Cassandra’s voice was once again business-like.

  ‘I’m happy to bring the bag to you. Where are you staying?’

  ‘The Shangri La.’

  ‘I don’t believe it, so am I. Can I expect any more coincidences?’

  ‘Why don’t you find out? I am in Room 2814.’

  ‘See you in five.’

  Was she coming on to him, Nathan wondered. Unlikely. Just being friendly and probably grateful that she had found her bag. He was single now, he could afford to have such thoughts. He put on his jacket and shoes, looked in the mirror, pleased with what he saw. He took the bag and headed to the elevator. He was on the twenty fourth floor and the ride took only a few seconds. After initially taking the wrong turn, once out of the elevator he finally found himself outside room 2814 and pressed the bell.

  The door opened and it took all of Nathan’s willpower to suppress a gasp. Standing in the doorway was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen (and that included Sylvia). She looked to b
e in her mid to late thirties, tall, almost at his eye level, although she was wearing high heels. Her hair was jet black, worn in a pageboy style, her eyes were blue. She wore bright red lipstick and when she smiled, which she did as soon as she saw him, her perfect white teeth gleamed. Nathan wondered whether her parents had also paid for orthodontic treatment. She was dressed in white slacks, a light blue sweater over which was a white cardigan. She was breathtaking.

  ‘Come in please.’

  Nathan entered. She had a suite, larger than his and with an even better view.

  ‘Here is your bag. Intact. Unopened, I promise.’

  ‘Yours is over there,’ she said pointing to his identical Samsonite standing by the side table. ‘I have put the notebook back. I didn’t touch anything else. I have to admit I was tempted to re-pack you properly but I resisted.’

  Nathan laughed again.

  Cassandra continued, ‘You don’t know how relieved I am to recover my bag. I was sure it was gone. It was probably my fault. I took your bag by mistake. But come to think of it, maybe you took mine by mistake.’

  ‘No, I think it was you. I was the last to leave the business class section, so you must have picked up mine. An understandable mistake. No harm done. Everything is back to its rightful owners.’

  There was an awkward silence and Nathan assumed that his visit was over and was about to get his bag and leave when Cassandra said, ‘Would you like to sit down? Unless you are in a rush to go somewhere, we could have a drink. I’m buying. It is the least I can do. You came up all the way here to bring me my bag when it seems it was my fault all along.’

  ‘I’m in no rush, a drink sounds great,’ Nathan replied.

  ‘Let’s have a look at the mini bar. The Shangri La keeps theirs well stocked. What’s your poison?’

  ‘Scotch, single malt if there is one.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. That’s coincidence number three, that’s my drink too. Let’s see what we’ve got.’

  Cassandra went over to the mini bar which was very well stocked. Nathan was pretty sure that the one in his room was not nearly as good.

  ‘We’re in luck. There is a fifteen year old Glenfiddich and a proper bottle, not miniature.’

  ‘I’ll pour,’ Nathan volunteered. He joined her at the bar, retrieved the bottle of Glenfiddich and poured two large measures into the glasses that were standing there. He did not ask about ice. It was after-all a single malt, never taken with ice.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said raising his glass.

  ‘Cheers,’ Cassandra replied raising hers.

  They sat down on the small couch. Each took a sip of whisky and put the glasses on the coffee table.

  ‘Are you in Sydney for business or pleasure Nathan?’ Cassandra asked.

  ‘Business. A conference actually. Just two days.’

  ‘What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘I’m an accountant.’

  Nathan thought he could detect a look of disappointment on Cassandra’s face. There was no one in the entire civilised world who considered accountancy to be a glamorous profession.

  ‘I’m a partner, it’s actually my firm,’ he added, attempting to retrieve the situation.

  ‘Do you have a business card with you? I could use a good accountant. You are good, aren’t you Nathan?’

  ‘Well, my firm does have a very good reputation,’ he replied handing her his business card.

  ‘Goodman and Partners. Well, well, looks like you are the chief honcho. I might just give you a call.’

  ‘And you, are you in Sydney on business or pleasure?’ he asked.

  ‘Business,’ Cassandra replied.

  ‘And what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking.’

  ‘Put it this way, my business could be your pleasure.’

  Nathan did not respond. He thought he knew what she meant but was unsure and did not feel he could ask. The look on his face must have given him away.

  ‘Have you led a sheltered life Nathan? Was I being too obtuse, would you like me to spell it out?’

  Nathan felt his face reddening.

  ‘No. No. I think I understand. Sorry, I’ve not met someone in that line of work before.’

  Cassandra ignored that remark.

  ‘Are you married Nathan?’

  ‘Yes, actually, no. Well yes and no. I have been married to the one woman for thirty five years and she left me three months ago,’ he blurted it out without thinking. Why was he telling her this?

  ‘So you’re available Nathan? Just how successful is your firm, Goodman and Partners?’

  Nathan was at a complete loss. Was she coming on to him or was she trying to sell her services. He felt his face reddening even more. He was frantically searching for a coherent reply but nothing came.

  The silence was broken by Cassandra’s laugh.

  ‘Relax Nathan. I’m joking. Don’t be so serious. What did that wife of thirty five years do to you?’

  Suddenly and without warning Nathan found himself tearing up. He had begun to sob. He realised how foolish he must look but could do nothing to stop it. Three months of repressed emotions seemed to be coming to the surface all at once. And in front of a total stranger, who also happened to be a beautiful looking prostitute. And suddenly as they started, the tears stopped. Nathan wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually cry. In fact I never cry. I don’t know what you must think of me.’

  ‘Do you want to know what I think of you Nathan?’

  Nathan did not respond.

  ‘I’m going to tell you anyway. I think you are probably a good person who has been screwed over by a wife who probably never deserved you. I think you are a bit of a nerd. I bet I’m not the first person to tell you that. But boy, you’re good looking for your age, what are you, fifty five, sixty?’

  ‘Fifty seven,’ Nathan managed to mutter.

  ‘Then I’ll tell you something else Nathan. You look like a man who could use a good fuck. That I can give you. Give you, not sell you. Consider it gratitude for bringing me back my bag.’

  Before he met Sylvia, Nathan had had sex with only two women. They were teenagers, not fully fledged women. In the thirty five years with Sylvia, there had never been anyone else and in the three months since their separation, no one at all.

  Nathan felt like pinching himself to make sure he was not dreaming. Her offer was too good to refuse, whatever her motives. The thought of sexually transmitted diseases vaguely crossed his mind and the knowledge that he did not have a Viagra with him was acutely on his mind.

  The first matter was resolved by Cassandra finally opening her Samsonite bag. She removed a black leather box, lifted the lid to reveal what looked like two dozen condoms. The second matter resolved itself. To his disbelief and delight, Nathan felt an erection forming and within a few minutes his penis felt harder than it had for years.

  ‘Take your clothes off. I’ll be back in a minute.’ Cassandra went into what Nathan assumed was the bathroom. He undressed, put his clothes neatly on the chair. He left his boxer shorts on which by now had the appearance of a small tent.

  Five minutes later Cassandra returned. She was wearing a white robe, partially see through and it was obvious that she had nothing on underneath. In her right hand she held a large yellow sponge from which a few drops of water were dripping.

  ‘I said undress… that includes the boxers too.’

  Nathan did as he was told.

  ‘What have we here? Have you been self-medicating Nathan? Did you come up here with evil intent?’

  Nathan could only stammer a reply. ‘No, I haven’t. Of course not. It’s all me. I find it hard to believe myself.’

  Cassandra smiled.

  ‘Lie down and let me take care of you.’

  Nathan lay on his back on the bed. Cassandra proceeded to use the sponge all over his body. Nathan could detect a faint perfume coming from the sponge. Once that t
ask was complete, Cassandra put the sponge down on the bedside table and with a skilful motion, removed her robe. She was beautiful enough with her clothes on but with them off she was something else again. Her breasts were perfectly formed, not too large. Her nipples were pink. Her pubic hair was black and trimmed to a narrow vertical strip. Nathan remembered once reading about various styles of pubic hair. This he suspected was the cricket pitch. Cassandra was leaning over him, a knee to either side of his body. As she leaned forwards her breasts swayed slightly.

  Nathan’s desire was now almost unbearable. She kept leaning forwards and started to move her lips all over his body, kissing him gently, everywhere but on the mouth, he noticed. She made her way slowly down and then took him in her mouth, running her tongue over the glans of his penis. Nathan was sure that he would explode into her mouth. Just then she pulled back. She obviously knew what she was doing, Nathan thought. After all she was a professional. She turned him over and her lips played over his back, his buttocks, and the back of his legs. She was in control and Nathan just went with the flow. This was the exact reverse of Nathan’s maxim about sex. She was doing all the work and he was just lying there.

  While Cassandra did not have the athleticism that Sylvia had, she had a serene stillness about her, as if she was moving in slow motion. Just when Nathan felt he could not hold out any longer, Cassandra took his penis and while kneeling over him, inserted it into her and began a slow rhythmic thrusting movement. Her hair and breasts were swaying in time with her body and her face had a dreamy look about it, her eyes half closed and the sides of her mouth curled up in a slight smile.

  Nathan gave up fighting it and climaxed and as he did, Cassandra tilted forwards, her torso lying on him. She was making soft moaning sounds as she lay on top of him.

  Nathan wondered whether she too had had an orgasm. He realised that he really didn’t care. Sylvia demanded one every time they had sex and Nathan had to work hard for her to achieve that. Only once she’d had an orgasm would she allow Nathan his.

  This was different. Cassandra was there to please him. He assumed she derived some enjoyment from the experience too but this was her profession and for all he knew, the moaning sounds were for his benefit only.