Note: This started out as an interracial story but somehow, it morphed into something different.
It was the Wednesday morning before two weeks of leave, and I was rushing home early to help my wife pack for our trip home. A trip to my hometown actually, my wife had never seen the place. I don't know what I was excited about because I hated the place, hated it enough to join the marines as soon as I graduated and haven't been back in the ten years since. We were heading back to attend my stepbrother's wedding. My mother had plans to introduce my wife to all her relatives and friends during those two weeks.
As I pulled into the driveway, I was surprised to see my wife, Ann, was already home and there was a second strange car in the driveway. The bigger surprise was finding my wife in the kitchen wearing a see-through negligee in a lip lock with some dude who kind of looked familiar. I had been in dozens of firefights where I thought I was going to die, but this was the first time I was frozen, couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even hold onto a thought.
Ann on the other hand seemed very calm. She stepped around the kitchen counter, and I noticed she didn't have any panties on, and her lover was pushing his dick back into his pants. She told him to go, and she would call him later.
"I am sorry," she said. "This is not the way I wanted you to find out that I was leaving you. I am terribly sorry, but I couldn't go and meet your family knowing it was over between us. When you're gone, I'll clean my stuff out of the house. I promise I won't take anything of yours."
With that she headed upstairs. She must have already been packed because she came down a few minutes later with her overnight bag and walked out the front door.
A few minutes after that I realized I was still glued to the same spot in the kitchen. Outside of making a fresh pot of coffee and rinsing their coffee mugs out, I couldn't tell you what I did for the next two hours. Somewhere in there I called my mother and told her what happened with Ann. I have no idea why. My mother's complete lack of emotional support was expected and less than reassuring.
The rest of Wednesday was a blur. I drove five hours to get home, checked into the suite I had booked for Ann and myself, which now seemed like such a waste. Thursday morning, I had to get out, so I drove over to what was left of our local mall. I intended to give my stepbrother and his wife a check, but needed something else, either a small gift or at least a nice card. My stepbrother and I were never really close. My mom married his father only a year before I joined the service and there was a five-year gap between our ages.
With a wedding card in hand, I headed over to Starbucks in the food court. While waiting in line I felt a tap on my shoulder, "Excuse me," a woman's voice said, "is your name Frank."
I turned to see Joey, who was the most beautiful girl in my high school. And just like when I was in high school, I looked upon her beauty and was left speechless. She was so far out of my league in high school I was surprised she even knew my name, let alone recognized me ten years later.
I finally found my voice and said, "Hi Joey."
After buying us each a cup of coffee, we sat at a table.
"I thought you were off to Broadway," I said.
"I was. I knew it was going to be a challenge but wasn't prepared for how challenging it was, competing with thousands of other girls across the country for our big shot at stardom. I finally had it worked out, a decent apartment with two roommates, a decent agent and a job as a waitress in a nice restaurant. And then I literally broke my leg on stage one night. No job, no acting gigs and struggling to get around in New York on crutches with my leg in a cast was too much for me, so I came home. What about you, I heard you're getting a divorce."
"Holy shit," I said. "Telephone, telegraph, tell my mother! Yes, I am getting divorced, but I wasn't expecting the world to know when I got back."
"Not that it would make you feel better, but I am also getting a divorce."
"Sorry, I didn't know you were married."
"I've only been married for a few years. He was the orthopedic surgeon that put my leg back together. It was no big deal; we didn't know each other very well and after a few years of marriage we realized we didn't like many of the same things. Your mom said your wife was cheating on you; I am really sorry about that."
"I think I may kill my mother. In the end, I can't blame my ex too much. Being married to anyone in the military is really hard. The frequent surprise deployments leaving her alone for long periods kills a lot of marriages."
"That's what you're saying on the outside, but I can see it was still a sucker punch."
The most beautiful woman in my high school, who rarely spoke to me before, spent the rest of the morning chatting with me. And then she had to leave. As we stood up, she gave me a hug goodbye. The 17-year-old inside me gushed.
She turned back to me and said, "What are you doing tonight? I am playing in a pool tournament; would you care to join me?"
I quickly agreed and she gave me an address to pick her up.
The house was huge and much newer than the surrounding houses. Joey came out as soon as I pulled up. She had on a white dress, I think they call a wrap around, white stocking, and white fuck-me pumps.
"That's what you're wearing to play pool?"
"It's a tournament and distractions are helpful. This was in style when we were in high school. I picked it up in a secondhand store yesterday," she said.
Joey began giving me directions. My town was incredibly racist at one point like a lot of small towns. White people lived on the west side of the tracks and people of color lived on the east side. By the time I was in high school, most of that shit had passed and there were probably as many people of color on the west side as white people. But the east side had always stayed predominately black. There were still those bars that a black person would never step in, and some a white person would never step in. Joey was definitely taking us to the east side. After ten years in the marines, I was confident I could take care of myself, but I did not want that kind of excitement.
As we entered the bar, it was easy to notice that I was the only white guy in there. Joey was well known with the handful of men greeting her with warm hellos, hugs and kisses. I got dirty looks. She took me to a backroom that held several pool tables.
"Let's get some practice in," she said. "I want you to stand a chance with the locals."
For those of you that haven't been in the military, playing pool is almost as common as marching or standing in line, with poker a close second. But getting familiar with the tables would be helpful. Joey downright embarrassed me on the first game we played. She was good and if she was facing me as she went to shoot, the top of her dress opened up revealing her bra covered tits. If she was facing away from me, the fabric of her dress clung to her ass revealing the tops of her thigh high stockings. Talk about distractions.
As we played, a number of other black men came into the room. They all knew Joey, and everyone gave her a deep kiss and a squeeze as they came in. All of them either grabbed a tit or her ass or both as they said hello. Joey didn't do anything to stop the groping and seemed to be enjoying it. I was beginning to wonder why she invited me. We had another hour until the tournament began and as the drinks flowed, their hands continued to roam over Joey.
Another white couple came in about 15 minutes later. The man saw me and came over and sat down next to me.
"I am Pete," he said, "you must be Frank. Joey told us you were coming. That is my wife, Janey."
