I rolled my eyes at Cassandra as she was talking on the phone to her best friend. As usual, it was gossip. This morning's rant was about a new neighbor. Supposedly there was a new tenant in our condo association, and Cassandra had to talk about her.
"She has these huge fake tits," Cassandra said. "They are way too big."
I shook my head and went into the shower. All I wanted to do was take a shower, then go to bed. It had been a long night, and I wanted to sleep.
I worked as a bouncer at a downtown club, it wasn't my dream job, but it paid very well. When I got out of the shower, Cassandra was still talking about the woman.
Supposedly this woman looked like a paid hooker.
I pointed at the bed and laid down. Cassandra nodded and went out of the room. The walls in these condos were paper thin, and even though Cassandra had left the bedroom, I could still hear her talking in the kitchen.
Cassandra, my wife, was a gossip queen. She loved to gossip about everything and anything. Even if it wasn't true, she wanted to hear about it. She had always been like this; before, I always brushed it off, but now it was becoming annoying after three years.
Finally, it went quiet as she went to work. She worked at a beauty salon, which was a haven for her gossip community.
I slowly drifted off to sleep.
I woke up a few hours later to my alarm going off. I got up, made something to eat, and then headed down to the workout room in one of the other buildings.
I liked to keep in shape as my job was more looks than it was anything else. I was tall and well built, plus I liked looking the part of a big scary black man. Most people stopped doing what they were doing when I showed up. So, it was more talk than action.
I got on the treadmill and started my half hour of cardio. I tried to work out every day, even on my days off.
A woman came into the workout room, and I immediately guessed by the way she looked. She was the woman Cassandra was talking about. She did have amazingly enormous breasts for her figure. I didn't know whether they were the bolt-on or the natural kind.
"Afternoon," she smiled.
"Afternoon," I replied.
I didn't want to get into a conversation as Cassandra was hugely jealous of any woman that talked to me. Even the women I worked with knew about my overzealous wife. Cassandra had come down to my job a couple of times to, as she said, 'put those bitches in their place,' which meant she shouted very loudly, so she caused a scene.
The lady took off her shirt and had a black sports bra underneath. She got on the treadmill next to mine and started running.
'Natural,' I thought as her massive boobs bounced and swayed naturally.
She was listening to music on her earbuds and pounding along, paying no attention to me. So, I did the same. I did my half-hour cardio, then hit the weights. On my workdays, I used the community gym, and on my days off, I hit the real gym down the road.
"Have a good one," she said as I left the room after an hour. She was still on the treadmill.
"You too," I replied.
I went home, took a quick shower, then laid back down for a short nap before Cassandra returned home, and I had to start getting ready for my night shift.
"So," Cassandra said as I woke up.
"What?" I replied.
I barely opened my eyes, and she was already on me about something.
"You talked to her," Cassandra said as she followed me to the bathroom.
"Who?" I asked as I started to get ready.
"Don't who, me! "Cassandra said.
Cassandra once was like me. She loved to work out. It was how we met, working out at a local gym, she then followed me to the nightclub, and we hit it off. Now she didn't work out at all, ate way too much, and gossiped every moment of the day.
"You have to be specific," I said as I brushed my teeth.
"How many women did you talk to today?" Cassandra asked.
"Just one," I said.
"Exactly," Cassandra said.
"We said like five words to each other," I shrugged. "What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is I am your wife, and I don't like her," Cassandra said.
"You don't know her, never talked to her, so how do you not like her?" I asked.
"She's a slut, a dark black haired, slut!" Cassandra said.
"Because she has big boobs?" I asked.
"Yes, and she comes and goes every day, and has an expensive car, which no one living here, would be able to afford," Cassandra said.
"She could have bought a house and be living here until it's done," I shrugged as I got my clothes ready.
Many people lived in these condos until their house was ready or they had other things going on.
"So, you're sticking up for her now?" Cassandra said, rolling her brown eyes.
I sighed and stared at my wife. Her dark skin, long black hair, and that judgmental face stared back at me.
"I am not going to fuck her," I said. "I am just saying, there could be factors, that's all. I love you, I am going to work, bye."
I kissed her on the forehead and went out of the door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Divorce!" Michael said as we stood on the third floor, looking down at all the partygoers.
Our nightclub was busy every night, and especially on the weekends. Tonight, was no different.
"I am not divorcing my wife because she is needy," I shook my head.
"My wife is needy," Michael nodded. "Tom's wife is bitchy; your wife is a complete psychopath!"
I nodded my head. I couldn't argue with facts.
"You talked to this woman for what three seconds, and she thinks you're sticking your dick in her?" Michael asked.
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Does she look good?" Michael asked.
"She's white," I said.
"And?" Michael asked.
"I don't do white chicks," I shook my head. "They are clingy."
Michael looked back at me.
"Except your wife, she's great," I smiled.
"That could be deemed as racist," Michael asked. "Or is it black people can't be racist?"
"No, it's a taste, just like if a white woman doesn't like black guys, it's not racist, its her taste, her choice," I shrugged. "People need to stop labeling things, there is such a thing as tastes and I like black women, that's all."
"Uh-huh," Michael nodded. "Still think you're crazy for not throwing that nutcase out."
I had thought about it a couple of times. Cassandra was borderline crazy, not a mental illness, but controlling and manipulative.
'Your bitch just left, where is she going at this time of night?' Cassandra texted me.
I looked at the time. It was just past midnight.
'Shouldn't you be in bed sleeping?' I replied. 'And not worrying about what other people are doing?'
'Sticking up for her again, why don't you just admit you want to fuck her,' Cassandra sent back. 'She better not show up there!'
I knew Cassandra had friends that showed up here nightly to watch who I talked to and who I hung out with and what time I left and showed up.
'If she does, it's a free country, she's allowed to go wherever she wants to go, I can't stop her,' I replied.
Michael shook his head as he saw me texting. "At least my clingy wife, leaves me alone while I am at work," he said as he walked down the stairs.
The texting went back and forth for over half an hour before I stopped responding. I put my phone on silence and went about my night. I knew I would pay for that when I got home, but I was getting aggravated.
