Sherry was flirting with me for six months before I "gave in."
This happened almost two decades ago, when shit seemed a little less lawless (laughs), and of course, before I joined the Navy.
"Hey baby. Working hard today I see," she told me when she saw me.
Sherry was the manager of a convenience store across from the warehouse I worked at in Portsmouth, and she happened to cover a shift one evening for her cashier.
"You need someone to cook you a home cooked meal one time," she added.
"I got somebody," I told her, lying through my teeth as most early 20s women at the time I was dealing were good only to suck and fuck.
Sherry herself was old enough to be my mother, a blonde BBW with the perkiest tits and a nice butt to match, but an even more bouncy personality to match as she had a thing for black dudes. I knew she was married, for she had the license plates on her pickup as "Mr. and Mrs. B," and she flaunted a fat rock on her ring finger.
"You claim you got someone, but she ain't treating you the way you need to be treated," she said.
I blew her a kiss, and barely a month later I was off to Great Lakes to start my journey as a Sailor (currently 18 years in as I typed this). I came back home on leave maybe five or six years later, and happened to stop at that convenience store for gas when no other than the same woman who was hitting on me, was calling at me again.
"Well hello, my buff stranger," she said as she stood behind the register
Sherry still had that same figure, with a little more gray in the hair, and less makeup as she aged gracefully, a testament to her Native American roots (I learned she was part of the Nansemond tribe when we first started talking). I finally figured out who she was married to when Ted, one of my former co workers at the warehouse, came in and they kissed, then he turned to see me and we shook hands.
"Hey boy, why yeen stopped by the warehouse," he asked. "You looking good, all swollen and shit. Great ta see ya boy!"
The burly Ted, who now had a bald head and thick salt and pepper goatee, was one of my mentors during my time at the warehouse, as he was country slang, street smart, trash talking supervisor who looked out for the young white and black giys employed there. He was the lead forklift driver of my crew, the biggest trash talker, but at this moment his face beamed with pride as if he was my proud father.
"Boy, I can't tell you how happy I am that you're serving our country," he said as he almost broke down and cried. "At least one of the young bucks listened to me."
Ted just didn't realize how we all looked up to him, or thought he "had it together."
That moment he asked me how long I was home, and wanted me to come to their house for dinner since he was cooking on the grill. I looked over to Sherry as I'd never seen her smile so wide, as that was the encouragement I needed to say yes. A couple hours later, I made it to their place in the deep woods of Chesapeake, for they lived in a mansion in comparison to where the store was located in Portsmouth. It was just the two of them, in a huge house, with a huge backyard and pool, in the thick of the wooded area of Hickory, entertaining what they thought was this "green" black boy.
"Buddy boy, you drink," Ted asked.
"You got Blue Moon," I asked.
"From the tap," he said as he had an actual mini bar in their dining room. "Or are you all stuck up and need a bottle?"
That made me and Sherry laugh as she and I were about to chow down on the ribs he cooked. He went and got us all beer, then we drank, ate and reminisced as they were all ears about my life as a Sailor. I explained how I was stationed in Italy, D.C., back to Virginia and now California as I was happy of all the traveling. Ted reiterated how proud of me he was, and Sherry added on, as they used to see how frustrated I was working at that warehouse.
"Baby, the man upstairs had a plan for you, and look where you are," she said.
They both elaborated on the current state of things at their workplaces, and Sherry, once she finished, came to sit directly beside me as she stroked the back of my head.
"You ever get that girl to cook for you," she asked with a wink.
By then, we downed a good bit of beer and I was a little faded, and so I went in for the kill for she obviously wanted me to. My lips touched hers, and I grabbed on to her breasts like the hungry, young stallion I was, even pulling open her shirt.