Okay, technically she's not a wife, but it's the best fit I could find. No real sex scenes in this one. I hope you enjoy it.
*
It's a glorious Saturday afternoon. Here I sit, in my favorite recliner, with a stupid grin on my face and a beer in my hand, watching the St. Louis Cardinals beat the perennial losing Chicago Cubs, six to nothing in the ninth inning. My good friend, Jim is on the couch, but he's not in as good a mood as I am. The reason for that bad mood is our tale for the day.
You could say it started in college, when I met Jenny, but it really goes back to high school when I met Jim. I was a sophomore on the JV basketball squad; I wasn't all that great. I mostly stayed on the team because I enjoyed playing and the team mentality. The coach said he let me stay on the team because I showed the others that you could still enjoy playing the game for what it was, but part of me always believed that no one better tried out.
Jim was a freshman that coach had me take under my wing. Jim showed some promise and since I knew how to play the game (I just wasn't skilled enough to do it well), he had me work one on one with Jim to bring him up to speed with the players at the high school level. I was the youngest child of two and Jim was an only child, so I sort of became his big brother at school, and kept the upper classmen from picking on him...too much. You've got to have a little fun, right?
Soon, we became good friends off the court as well, and were rarely seen apart. It was after spending some time at his house that I learned that his early life had not been easy. His dad ditched his Mom when Jim was three; he didn't even bother to say goodbye. Jim's Mom, Brenda, came home from the grocery store with Jim to find that all of his dad's clothing and possessions were gone—along with half of the furniture (the 'good' half, of course. It wasn't like they had a lot to begin with, either).
When Jim was in junior high, Brenda met a nice guy named Phil, and things got better for both of them. Brenda dated Phil for eighteen months and the three of them got along fine, so they got married. Jim didn't have a problem 'sharing' his Mom with Phil; Phil just eased in to their lives, even spending time with just Jim. It was Phil that encouraged Jim to try out for basketball, and helped him keep his grades up so he could stay on the team. Phil was a class act.
So, Jim was getting his life on track, and even had a 'new Dad,' making his family complete. It was easy for him to let a big brother sneak into the new family dynamic, and I think Brenda and Phil liked it when Jim was with me because they got some alone time. The brother thing worked well because we looked similar; both about six foot four, brown hair, thin, and blue eyed. It also worked well for me, as I now had someone to look up to me; now there's a feeling that makes your day.
On the basketball court, Jim didn't look up to me for very long, because he had real talent. Coach Smith would tell us what he wanted Jim to work on and we would do it, because I had the raw knowledge of the game, just from watching the pro's play and listening to the commentators talk. That was my knack; Coach even called me his unpaid assistant my senior year. Together, we brought Jim along to be the star of the varsity team his junior year. We even made it to the elite eight in the state playoffs that year. Then it was time for me to graduate and start off on my college studies, leaving Jim behind. It was only natural that I studied to be a basketball coach.
My freshman year, I tried to get the basketball coach, Joe Fields, to let me help him in any way I could. He brushed me off with a, "What could a stinking freshmen have to offer?" Of course, that didn't stop me from coming to the games, and watching his style and strategies. Pretty soon, I could guess what adjustments he would make, knowing his players strengths and weaknesses. If the other teams could've gotten hold of my notes, there would have been hell to pay.
I went back to the old high school for a couple of their games, when my college team was on an away game. Jim struggled some for his first couple of games without me. I talked to him at half time and reminded him that Coach Smith was always telling me what to tell him, and work with him on. He just needed to trust Coach like he had trusted me—and relax, because he was playing way too tense. The second half of the game went a lot better; the old Jim was back on track.
Another thing happened my freshman year—Jenny. I met Jenny at a party that my room mate dragged me to, saying, "All work and no play make Ray a studious burnout." In case you didn't guess, my name is Ray. I was standing near a wall, nursing my first beer and looking around for someone vaguely familiar...maybe someone I could talk basketball with. Suddenly, my chest and stomach were wet—and about forty degrees colder than they were only a second ago. I looked down to see a pretty brunette about five foot six with green eyes that just grabbed your attention away from everything else.
"Oh, shit! I'm sooooo sorry! I kinda tripped over something back there, and...I'm sorry."
I was too overcome by those green eyes to utter a word in anger, shock, or any other emotion. I wasn't a 'player' in high school, but I dated pretty regularly, and had two or three steady girl friends each of my last two years. I'm not usually so at a loss for words around the fairer sex, but this time, my brain slipped in to neutral and the engine was revving.
Out of habit, she started brushing the excess beer off my shirt, while I watched, trying to get another glimpse of the green fields of serenity that I saw only a moment ago. She'd had a few beers already, so she wasn't using all of her brain, and just kept brushing my shirt until she noticed a tent forming in my jeans.
Then she looked up at my blank face, inquiring, "Are you okay? Why aren't you saying anything? Are you high or something?"
My brain decided to 'pop the clutch' and slid into second gear with a jump. "I'm fine...wet and cold, but fine. I just got lost in your pretty green eyes for a moment. I don't mean to make it seem like a pick up line, but I've never seen such an exquisite shade of green before, and I just zoned out."
"Well, aren't you the charmer? You're not exactly chopped liver, yourself; just a little on the tall side." Did I mention that she'd had a few? Okay, maybe she was bordering on a few too many, as her speech was a little slurred and she was wobbling a bit on her three inch heels. "Now, I need another beer. Would you help me get another one? I'm having a bit of trouble making my way through the crowd back to the keg."
Normally, I would've thought that it took a big pair of brass ones to ask the person you just spilled your beer on, to reload your weapon of wetness distribution. Normally, I would've told her as much, but those eyes had found a warm spot in my soul. One of her shoes slipped in the wet spot on the floor and she fell over into me. In a flash, my arms were around her, holding her up gently, but showing a controlled strength that supported her well. My decision was made for me.
"I realize that I don't know you, but I think you may be near your limit for the night. Why don't we go sit on the outside porch and discuss it. Then, if you still want one, I'll get it for you."
"Oh, and you're a gentleman, too. A girl could get used to this treatment. Let's go have that talk."
Once we were outside, where the music wasn't quite as loud, we introduced ourselves and talked for a couple hours. We began to hit it off, and agreed for a date the next night. In the beginning weeks, we went slow, working around our schooling and the home basketball games. At first, she was fine with my obsession, but I could tell that it did bother her some. When the season was over, we had more time to spend together and all was well in Ray-n-Jenny-ville.
We had been going out for just over eight months and things were getting serious between us. My last class on Friday afternoon was on the far west side of campus and it was a thirty minute walk, or fifteen minute bus ride, back to my dorm. I was happily surprised to see Jenny's car, a classic 1966 red Mustang, parked along the street just a half block from the door of the building. Her dad spoiled her a bit, but he had the money to do it. I thought that she wanted to get an early start on our date that night, and came to pick me up on that fine, sunny May afternoon.
As I got closer, I had been absent mindedly planning out the remainder of the day; first a trip to my dorm to drop off my books and get ready to go out. Maybe there would be time for some making out before we went to her place, assuming my room mate had left town at noon to go home, as he almost always did on Fridays. I heard a familiar sound that snapped me out of my reverie like a giant rubber band hitting the back of my hand. Jenny was moaning—in a very blissful way—just like she did when she came after a good round of sex. Looking closer at her car, I noticed one of her feet sticking out of the back window at an angle that was quite familiar to me (as she sometimes liked to get a quickie in her backseat), but I was supposed to be the one in there with her!
My anger was growing by the step, as what I believed to be happening was confirmed the closer that I got. 'Surely, it isn't Jenny, maybe she loaned her car to someone else' I thought. The next thing I knew, I was standing beside the car, staring into the backseat, watching some guy push his tool into my blissfully moaning Jenny, over and over and over...
I heard a noise behind me, as the lawn sprinkler came on, watering the newly planted tree and shrubs a few feet away. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed the hose, folded it, and removed the sprinkler. I took the hose over to the car and put my thumb partially over the end of the hose to increase the pressure, and soaked both of them before they knew what was going on.
When the jerk rushed out of the car, his pants fell back to his ankles. I took that opportunity to plant an upper cut to his face when he looked down at his fallen clothing. He went down like a hundred pound sack of potatoes—I know because I used to unload them at the grocery store I worked at through high school. Jenny was pulling her skirt down and buttoning her blouse while getting out of her car in a fit of anger, but couldn't get a good handle on things because I was still spraying her with the hose.
