Three Leather Jacket Tassels
Tassel 1 - Paul
By: RicharDickensAlcoxxx©
Firstly, let me introduce myself as Paul Morris. I'm a contemporary folk singer and harmonica player. Experts have described my music as a throwback to acts like Woody Guthrie and Joan Baez. I am known with my fan base but wouldn't say famous exactly. I'm originally from Texas, east Texas to be exact. I'm forty two years old and more or less a newlywed. My wife Paulette is thirty-two and a real looker.
When I first saw her first thing I noticed was her rack but I later fell in love with who Paulette really was inside. She was stacked, but without looking like a woman of loose morals. Although born in Chicago, she's my lady, my Southern Belle who I drempt about. Before her I was just goin' places with arm-candy. Always lookin' to meet a good woman to take care of but never finding the right one.
When I met her, Paulette looked so healthy and tender with her hour-glass body; fleshy in all the right places! She had an ample bosom, a trim waist, and a round derrière, flawless porcelain skin, rich chocolaty brown eyes, high cheek bones, a slightly up-turned nose, full lips, and beautiful, natural chestnut and honey hair down to her waist.
I may be from Texas but she was a real Georgia peach. I nicknamed my little wife sweet-cheeks in bed because, even in her thirties, her fine tush was perfect; not too big, not too small, just right.
She has yet to give me a nickname in the bedroom. Paulette had been a dancing instructor and also majored in drama at Concordia. Her nickname there had been "the body." I'm an incredibly lucky man cause' we became two peas in a pod.
I myself am still handsome. Six feet tall, weigh two hundred pounds, with a body like John Cena, bit taller. I have chiseled features, dark blue eyes, sandy colored hair, a handlebar mustache and long sideburns.
Paulette and I shacked up together soon as we decided to get engaged, she moved into my house in LaGrange. It's only a few minutes away from Chicago. I had been living near Chicago for the last eighteen years, mostly for the work.
Unfortunately I knew her ex-husband because he is also a singer and was in my circuit. We never really spent time together in the past because he tends to make enemies real fast. Unfortunately we have the same manager, Mr. Bradley Johnson.
Her husband's problem, and I refuse to even say his name, was he couldn't handle success. I hate to admit it but he could have been the next big thing except he never really chased his dream. No ambition in that empty shell of a man. When she divorced him and her lawyers went after his assets the little prick started pitchin' a hissy fit.
He took a swing at me and made contact, but I took it easy on him for Paulette's sake. I knew I'd feel bad anyway breakin' the sonofabitch's face, him being a singer like me.
I felt sorry for him although I heard he started playin' in a band with one of my idols. Willie Nelson of all people took him into his band to help with backing vocals and banjo. As jealous as I was about him playing with a veteran guitar player of Willie's caliber, I was happy to finally have him out of our lives. Happy to have my little miss carry my surname.
I didn't exactly steal her from him either. She just got sick of him because he was a loser who couldn't take care of her. She was still workin' as a waitress when she was with him. Paulette was riding a burro and she split because she wanted to ride a Tennessee Walker. He got his up 'n' comings! But what came next I never saw comin'.
I loved all my neighbors and when I shacked up with my bride I knew she'd be in good company. I was real close to my neighbor Brandon Slim across the street but was never quite keen on his thirty year old wife, Eny. Brandon is a tad younger than me, thirty-eight and in the architecture and engineering field.
He is a good man, you know the type. He was too good, almost, because Brandon was ignorant to the ways of his woman. Inni, or Meanni, or Winnie. Not sure how to pronounce this name of hers; but her name is spelled E-n-y.
Because Eny had a reputation in the neighborhood for being a bad egg and more than just a little cracked, I wanted my wife to stay away from her. And unofficially Eny had a reputation for being very free-thinking, as well as being the neighborhood's municipal cock-wash if y'all see where I'm going with this. In spite of being married to Brandon for seven years.
These are only rumors, mind you. But I won't lie to you; she is a nice piece of ass. She has beautiful piercing turquoise eyes, intelligent features, straight eyebrows, platinum-blonde pixie styled hair, and a waif-like frame. Although she's skinny, her body looks healthy enough. The only thing that don't sit too well with my taste is her small breasts. Eny has a chest flat enough to land planes.
Beauty has a price though, and Eny's came with a biggity attitude. Eny could never shut her yapper and she's stubborn as a mule. Could have been a truck driver with her mouth. Eny is originally from New York City where my friend Brandon met her; to his misfortune. She had been a beauty queen and runway model in her early years and had been pretty good at it. From New York, to Morocco, to Italy, to Paris, to Los Angeles, I am told.
Then she retired because she was way better at partyin'. She developed a substance abuse problem. I'm a singer and know how that stuff works so I won't judge her on that. She got some help after that and somehow resurfaced as a real estate agent with Brandon by her side. They settled here in LaGrange five years ago.
I hated her liberal ways and didn't really want her influencing my tender princess Paulette. When Eny first met my angel and my wife asked me about her I said; "That gal has been with so many fellas, she ain't nothing but a no count good for nothing hussy. Don't you go hanging around her type, Paulette, because she is a bad influence!"
Paulette agreed to only be polite toward her but they still became good friends despite my admonitions. I said to myself; don't worry yourself, Paul, because evil thoughts come home to roost.
Paulette will surely be a good influence on Eny; not the other way around. There was little I could do since we lived in a tight community. The boat really sunk when Eny sold the house Paulette once owned with her ex-husband in Frankfort.
I hate to admit it but her looks really helped her sell off property like hotcakes. In spite of everything I trusted that my wife was ace high and would never go astray. I only questioned that trust when I noticed something was strange during dinner one night. My wife had spent that whole afternoon with Eny, maybe some of the morning too. They had gone to Verrat's for lunch that day, my wife's favorite restaurant.
I arrived in the early evening in our compact SUV having picked up our kids and Brandon's from their after school activities. Paulette has two from her previous marriage. Eny and Brandon have one adopted child because, due to her lifelong modeling career, Eny refused to have any.
I could sense a peculiar vibe coming from them as I walked in the house and sure 'nuff something was definitely up between em' gals. That little gamine Eny was with her trying to look innocent, but I could see through her facade.
"How did your day go today Paul?" Paulette asked me with a half-smile.
"Why, I'm feelin' hunky dory today honey! Come here an' give your old man a cuddle!" I answered with my usual enthusiasm. Paulette walked toward me and kissed me on the cheek. But when I tried to really hug her, she froze up.
"Good Lord! I wonder what happened while everyone was away!" " I said, eying her. Eny was looking daring that evening in a black long sleeve sheer top with a lacy black bra underneath and her tight black leather pencil skirt. My wife always allowed herself to look wholesome and didn't disappoint in skinny jeans and a simple sleek button down shirt.
"Must have been something, heh Jeannie?"
"My name is pronounced Eh-nai, Paul! E H N A I...can you see my hand?" She said, gesticulating. Practically bouncing her two pursed fingers in the air. Talking to me like a moron, pointing out every tiny syllable of her name.
"OK sure, whatever that is!" I said.
"What happened today honey? You seem wore out," I said to my wife. I thought Eny and I had mended our fences, but apparently I was wrong. When I looked at that little cooze she was madder than a wet hen and then Paulette said something.
"Nothing, Eny and I had just had some lunch and I remembered a sad story from a trip I took with my parents and grandma when I was twenty. Eny gave me a friendly shoulder to cry on," said Paulette stepping away.
"OK, OK, no reason to carry this on ladies," I said stepping out into the driveway to welcome Brandon who was parkin' his car outside.
After we all had dinner that evening Brandon thought they were acting odd too and was fit to be tied. We were both smoking cigarettes by the porch and talkin'. He was thinkin' maybe his wife was using again, maybe they both were.
Other people in their lives we didn't know about scared us because we weren't young anymore. He couldn't put his finger on what it could be either. You see, Brandon and I both worked long hours and came and went lots.
"What do you reckon?" I asked.