The man and the young woman were holding hands as they were leisurely walking to the baggage claim area. Many eyes followed them, which was understandable. The man was tall and wide shouldered with just a hint of a distant black relative in his face. Most people would assume him to be about 45 years old, and they would be just one year off. His name was George.

The lady at his side could almost, but not quite, be called petite. She was slim and had the proud bearing of a beauty who is used to admiring glances wherever she went. And a most striking beauty she was, her glossy black hair framing an exotic face with a perpetual slight smile. Her coal black eyes had a trace of almond shape and always seemed to be twinkling in amusement.

When her husband had found her in Hawaii she had told him laughingly that she represented all the immigrants that had come to the Islands in the early days. There was a mix of Hawaiian, Portuguese, Chinese, and even a bit of Dutch coursing through her veins.

Their three-week vacation, I will call it that for the lack of a better word, was at its end. She had taken him along the 'Romantic Street' of Germany, strolling through some of these well preserved Middle Age towns. They had even made a long circle walk along the inside of the old wall that had encircled and protected Rothenburg. In the Plaza in front of the Cathedral in Cologne he had marveled at the imposing structure with its skyward stretching twin towers. In Hamburg they ventured to St. Pauli, the official red light district of this harbor city.

They had taken a boat ride on the Rhine river as well as on the Moselle. There they had visited several wineries to sample the superb wines of the region. On their drive through the Black Forest they had stopped to watch wood carvers producing the much coveted Black Forest Cuckoo clock. An exceptional beautiful clock had struck George's fancy and he bought it as a gift for a special friend he explained to the English speaking proprietor of the business. "I owe this man more" than he will ever know," George added. Through his unselfish altruism he had made our trip to Germany a reality."

Jessica had lived in Germany for a number of years after we married and before I emigrated to the US. She loved the old country. Showing it had given her immense pleasure, and he in turn thoroughly enjoyed having a knowledgeable guide. Having a stunning young lady at his side wherever they went was an added bonus.

As they were walking through the airport he turned to her, bent his head to bring his mouth close to her ear, and whispered: "I don't know how I can ever thank you two people enough. You two have filled me with joy and happiness as I did never believe existed."

Oblivious to the crowd milling around them they embraced and kissed, still holding on to each other a few more seconds after they broke their kiss.

An older couple seated in the waiting lounge of Gate 38 had watched with a knowing smile. After George released his companion, the wife turned to her husband to remark that this must surely be a couple on their honeymoon, in love to the gills.

She was wrong on all counts. They were not on their honeymoon. They were not husband and wife, and they were not in love with each other. The old couple would have been appalled and shocked had they known the truth.

The truth was that George was Jessica's pimp. She worked for him as a call girl. Even the name Jessica was not her real name, it was her professional name she had selected for herself. Her real name was Liolani. And she was married. She also was madly in love with her husband, - and he in turn was deeply in love with his wife. Without his unwavering love this unique situation could not have come about. You should know this much about the players; now let me tell my story.

After Liolani had started working for George they eventually developed a fondness for each other to the point where George would refer to Jessica as his girlfriend. It was inevitable that I would find out eventually about my wife's secret. But being a stout believer that a woman should have the right to shape her own life to her liking, I did not intervene. In fact, my sex life had improved. Liolani appeared hornier more often than ever after she had started working for George.

On the fateful evening when I discovered that my wife was working as a call girl, I happened to sit next to her pimp at a bar and developed a friendship with him. His name was George, and not knowing I was Jessica's husband, he spilled many details. I heard about George having won a vacation for two to Europe, how much he wanted to take his girlfriend along, and the quandary of getting Jessica's husband to give his approval. It would mean Jessica's other life to be divulged.

After I shook their little world by revealing my knowledge of that world, I explained my reason for encouraging Liolani to go on this 'vacation'. If a man truly loves his wife he should consider her happiness first. And when she is happy it stands to reason he would be also. And so George called me the most altruistic man he had ever met, and our friendship deepened.

The emotions therefore ran high as we three met at the baggage claim carousel. Liolani hugged me and kissed me with an intensity I had never encountered before. George gave me a bear hug and a peck on my cheek. Jessica and George could hardly contain themselves to share their experiences with me, who in turn could hardly wait to hear about their 'vacation'.

A welcome home dinner was waiting at my home and two chilled bottles of Moselle Spaetlese magically appeared. It was Samantha, George's nineteen-year old niece who surprised us with Beef Stroganoff, boiled parsley potatoes, cauliflower in a white cream sauce, plus some Chinese lichees for dessert. Samantha was immensely proud of herself, and rightfully so, that everything had come together perfectly. Her Beef Stroganoff was excellent. It was her first Stroganoff and I was impressed again by this young lady. Even her choice of wine impressed me. She obviously had listened when I had been talking about wines in general and German wines in particular.

The four of us retired to the living room after dinner for a glass of after dinner Tawny Port. It was story telling time. Liolani, ever the bubbly conversationalist raced to the front of the conversation with the usual preliminaries, then stopped abruptly and urged George forward, claiming that it was his story, and therefore his to tell. He rendered a day by day account, starting with day one.

"That evening we were absolutely bushed. "We fell into bed utterly exhausted, we slept like logs," he claimed. This was a huge understatement. Sure it was true that they were exhausted, and also true that they fell into bed, and also true that they slept like logs.

But knowing my wife, and knowing George, and knowing how they related to each other, my mind had no trouble filling in the blanks between 'fell into bed' and 'slept like logs'.

My little excursion did not last long, I met up with the two travelers again as George was telling about visiting the Heidelberg castle, about the old Nepomuk bridge. And the cute little cast monkey at the south end of the bridge. No one had noticed my absence and I again listened to the wonders George had seen. The old church in Craiglingen with the huge intricate altar carvings by Hermann Riemenschneider was one of the highlights, he would never have seen were it not for his knowledgeable guide Jessica.

"This was just the tip of the iceberg," were George's closing words. "Let's leave some for later. Now we want to know how the poor lonely deserted husband survived." Then he added, "at least you got your house cleaned once a week. I am sure you had a wonderful time trying to figure out who stole into your house every Thursday. Well, I will give you the answer to that riddle.

It was my niece Samantha. My Sis came up with the idea to have Samantha do that on the sly every Thursday afternoon while you were at work. And Jessica was part of the conspiracy; she had the extra house key made for Samantha. All of us enjoyed putting one over on you. Sure had you puzzling, I bet, didn't we?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, that was a great idea giving me a loneliness puzzle,"" I answered truthfull.",

He didn't catch that I never said I did not find out. Liolani's eyes, however, had lit up like a Christmas tree. She had understood my answer and quickly glanced at Samantha to see her reaction. What my wife saw was only a tiny hint of a smile. It was enough for her to know what had happened.

Liolani and George fell into a discussion about something I did not catch because my mind had drifted back to the first Thursday after their departure. I was to leave at four the next morning for a meeting at one of our outlying branches and so I took most of the afternoon off. That's when I surprised Samantha.

She was vacuuming and did not hear me coming in. I stood still just inside the door so as not to scare whoever was cleaning. But when she turned and saw me standing at the door she let out a little shriek. But she had seen pictures of me and recognized my face at once.

"Hi, I am Samantha," she greeted me. "I am George's niece. Could I serve you some coffee" Or tea, or me?" She playfully added.

I thought I detected a faint undertone, very, very faint, that the 'me' might also be available. I opted for coffee and was treated to the sight of a shapely behind disappearing into the kitchen. Samantha's graceful movements reminded me of a dancer. I had only a short moment to admire a set of long legs before she was gone.

I collected a few things I would need tomorrow, like my laptop, the digital recorder and some other paraphernalia. When she joined me in the living room with two cups of coffee she seated herself in an easy chair to my right. Again I noticed the sinuous movement of a dancer as she took her place.

"How lonely are you?" she suddenly asked me. Again I thought I detected an unspoken note in her question.

I decided to find out if my intuition was right.

"Sure, I am lonely. And thanks for changing that. I guess I will have to close office earlier in the afternoon on Thursdays."

She giggled and changed the subject. "I want you to know that I greatly admire you. This was a really magnanimous gesture to let your wife accompany Uncle George. Few husbands would consider that, especially under these unusual circumstances."

"What unusual circumstances are you taking about," I wanted to know.

She was quiet for a few seconds. I was sure she was trying to formulate her answer just right. Then she bent forward an inch or two and looked me straight in the eye.

"It is not often that a woman uses a different name under certain circumstances."

"Why don't I tell you what happened," I started. "It will give you a better understanding of the relationships involved in this unlikely triangle.

It was at the Grand Hotel that I accidentally overheard a short exchange of just a few words between a female and a male. She was handing the man her earnings. I recognized my wife's voice at once.

Wanting to find answers I went to the bar to watch the goings on from there. And there I happened to choose a seat next to your Uncle George who told me about his top girl Jessica. I told him that I would have to leave shortly. We agreed to meet again another afternoon for drinks.

We met again and again and became close friends. I never let on who I was, but he told me about Jessica and how they had met. That they developed great feelings for each other, but not of the marrying kind, he stressed. Eventually they settled on girlfriend and boyfriend.

He also told me about their dilemma regarding the vacation package for two to Germany he had recently won. He so much wanted Jessica to come with him. But how could the husband possibly agree to have his wife share this vacation with George? Anyway, they would have to tell him about Jessica the call girl, and about their relationship.

A few days after he had told me about their problem I decided to cut the Gordian knot. I told Liolani that I knew about her other life; how I had met George and that we had become good friends. I added that I wanted them to go to Europe and enjoy their time together.

After I had told my story I decided to shock Samantha further by telling her how I felt about a woman's rights to her own life, that her happiness should be my main concern if I truly loved her, plus a few more tidbits of my philosophy.

When I finished she looked at me for a long moment. She then started speaking very slowly at first.

"You just rose another 100 points with me, if that is possible." After another long pause she continued at her normal tempo.

"A man like you is so rare that a woman will certainly do anything to make him happy." She paused for a few long moments. When she spoke again it was almost a whisper.

There again was this unspoken promise. My mind quickly assessed the situation and told me that here was a young, but mature female; and that at this moment she was just that, 'The Eternal Female'.

I stood up and moved over to her chair. Standing in front of her I looked down into her eyes. And now I was absolutely sure. Her eyes were shining brightly, saying 'please, please make me yours, I am ready.'

I extended both hands. She seized them without hesitation and stood up. When I released her hands and took her in my arms her arms moved immediately landed my neck, even before my lips touched hers. Her body molded itself to mine as perfect as a second skin. We kissed, our tongues dancing with joy.

In the morning she got up when I did and we had a fast breakfast before we both left, she for home, and I for work. But we said good-bye for three or four minutes. During those minutes promises were made.

Coming back from my reverie I found Samantha staring at me. But the stare quickly changed to a smile as she guessed where my thoughts had been.

As I lay awake before drifting off to sleep that night I felt a wave of happiness washing over me, and it occurred to me that the standard issue husband would have felt a terrible loss when finding his wife working as a call girl. Then he would burn up with jealousy while she is away on vacation for three weeks with another male. And finally, he would feel guilty for having invited someone else into his bedroom.

But not me. I feel my life enriched in knowing that my loving wife brings happiness to more than one person, that I found a wonderful friend, and that I could share pleasures with a special lady. Yes, life can be a valley of sorrows, or a Paradise on Earth, the choice is yours.