The time it took for Tammy Scroggins to leave the Food Lion parking lot and arrive safely back home had been a complete blur. Somehow she had navigated herself home despite the fact that both her feet and hands were numb and her head was swimming in the confusion of the night's events.
Sitting in the parked minivan, directly under the same basketball hoop where her oldest son, Brian, had been shooting baskets with his black friend 6 hours earlier, Tammy tried collecting her thoughts as she finally accepted the fact that she had actually seen a black person and a white person have sex right in front of her.
Suddenly, Tammy dropped her hands down hard on the steering wheel, almost as if to say, "Dammitt, I give up!! This day has just been too much for me." She knew with unmittagated certainty that what she had witnessed in the Food Lion storeroom would be something she could never tell anyone about. It would be Tammy's personal cross to bear everytime she set foot in that place and had to look at Staci Simmons or that boy Staci had allowed to use her in that way.
The entire trip home Tammy had replayed her brief voyueristic encounter in her head, wishing that there was some way she could have deleted the entire fiasco from her memory.
Still, something struck her with intangibly sick fascination that she kept coming back to. It was the first time since she could remember that the sounds of a woman crying out in orgasmic release filled her ears. Tammy couldn't remember the last time she, or anyone else for that matter, sounded that...'fulfilled".
The grunting sounds that the young man Staci was with made as he came was old hat for Tammy. It was just like the sound her husband made when he came inside of her during their ritualistic bouts of one sided love making. What kept popping up in Tammy's consciousness was the voice of that young woman, despite the fact Tammy considered the girl pure white trash, experiencing the ultimate release.
Tammy purposefully tried repressing the fact that it was a teenage black thug that was causing the young woman to make those noises, but like a record player skipping over and over, the sounds of Staci's desperate sighes of pleasure tortured the middle aged white woman endlessly.
Gathering her stuff from the van, Tammy slowly made her way out of the vehicle and locked the door behind her. Trudging up the walkway to the front door, Tammy could feel the lightning bug like shimmer of heat tingling between her thighs as she entered the house.
Looking around at her silent surroundings, Tammy was thankful it appeared everyone had retired to their bedrooms despite the fact that it was only a few minutes after 10pm. As she climbed the stairs, fighting off her unrelenting fatigue, part of Tammy's pysche still whispered meekly to her, "Maybe Carl's still up."
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