The first time Jerry laid eyes on her he just knew she was wild. Paula was leaning over the pool table to sink the 5 into the corner pocket on the other end. Her cleavage was obvious even through the smoke and shadows that accompanied every road-side bar in 1978. She made the shot. Jerry made a decision to leave his beer half full on the bar and cozy on over to get a closer look.
The next 5 years were a blur of alcohol and cocaine. Eventually both of them wised up and got some help. In a little over a year and a half, the two seemed completely different, at least on the outside. Jerry had the typical 9-5er and Paula worked part-time at a dental office. Long gone were the days of week-long benders, chain-smoking whatever was handed to you, and extravagant sexual deviance-at least that’s what Jerry thought.
On a Saturday night in April, Jerry came home 3 days early from what was supposed to be a week-long work trip. What he found would take a full year of therapy to describe. There were naked bodies, men and women; there was equipment, leather, chains, and whips. It looked like a pornographic rodeo that was created by Tim Burton. Jerry was frozen until a Parrot hopped up onto a lamp-shade and said, “Paula want a spankin? Paula want a spankin’”?
One night a few months later, Jerry found an old box of pictures. He threw most of them away, but always liked his hair in this picture so he cut Paula out, and put this on his refrigerator.