"Now how did I get in to this shit?" He inquisitively mumbled, as he upheld the weight of his new acquaintance; some two-hundred plus pounds of a man he'd barely known three hours ago.
It was 3:18 a.m. Darius checked his watch, having to shift Beau's slump body and lead filled arms. As time progressed, it would feel as though the addition of potato sacks had been thrown on top of him. Arduously, he managed to drag their non-too-collected asses for over a hundred yards.
Moments earlier, he'd been holed up at the Shuggah Shack. It was the very same seedy establishment whereby he'd witness Beau, participating in a lascivious ménage. Darius watched as the club owner relished having his cock creamed, tongued and lathered by his headlining strip-dancer: Avanyah; nom de plum—Chocolate Peach.
She'd shared him, along with her husband and his massive cohort, Moose. Together they accommodated over twenty inches of hellafied dick. They probed deep, surveying her innermost havens, filling every crevice and orifice. And, too, she matched their doggedness; challenged every bit of savagery her suitors possessed.
Just before he'd left, Darius recalled marveling at the sight of Avanyah's deep brown body, satiated. She writhed sexily in a bed made of pearl-satin sheets. Legs spread splittingly apart as her husband offered a nurturing tongue, lapping up her kitty wounds; healing her freshly tunneled ass with salivary compassion.
"What!?" Beau stirred into being, disrupting Darius' thoughts. The early morning showers awoke him sending a vital surge of energy through his limping body.
"I'm right over here." Beau pointed to a colonial home, replete with columns and a marbleized stairway. A short bordered wall made of mint limestone aligned the drenched shrubbery and faint beaming torch lights.
"Dude, I'm worried about your wife." Darius released as they had reached the front door. "I'm not trying to get myself involved in a ruckus."
"...ten yurrs and..." Beau blurted.
Just then the screen door smacked against the side of the house. The wind had forcefully compelled the crashing impact having startled Darius. He had to soon scrape Beau off the floor as he'd temporarily passed out. He'd just missed cracking his forehead open on the carpeted concrete; on a "Welcome" doormat, blurrily read.
"Honey, what happened?" Her voice suggested its passive alarm
"Terri!" Beau threw his arms around her.
She kept to her posture: Fists clenched, secured at hip's curve; defiant in her pink & white sheep patterned pajamas. She'd just finished watching a taped episode of Desperate Housewives.
It had startled her to find her hubby guided drunkenly by this dark skin stranger at her steps. "Come in, sweetie. We can't have you out by the rain. Let's just take him upstairs." Teri addressed Darius in a slightly low and embarrassed tone.
"You don't have to drag me up! I got it!" Beau regained consciousness, walked himself up the stairs just to collapse on the bed immediately upon entering their room.
She squinted. Her eyes reflected the early morning discomforts; the unsettling vibe born intuitive and deep; a rather womanly way of knowing of the lingering scents of infidelity.
Teri returned to her southern charm. She turned her grimace into a wormy smile.
"I'm sure you got my name, right?" She repressed her smile against her backhand and then brought them down to her sides. "I'm sorry I just didn't get your name. So, would you please?"
He cocked his head back, amazed at her overtly charms. "Darius!"
"Well," she eyed Beau's bedroom once they arrived. I'm going to tend to where I'm needed most. You can stay in this room for tonight. The towels and fresh linens are located on a top closet rack. I'll be sure to help you with arranging any accommodations you need."
"Thanks." He crossed into his room and then sunk into sleep.
***
The Awakening
"WHAT!? I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" Teri's voice tore through layers of insulated walls. He heard Beau's voice grumbling an incoherent defense.
It all seemed like a dream; his eyes fell on the alarm: 5:31 a.m. Darius' sedated lids returned to close only to bloom again. He heard the certainty of her stomps interrupting a soon to be forgotten dream sequence.
"Thank God I decided to leave the children at my sister's!" She knocked loudly on his bedroom door before pushing through. Her face reddened, cheeks wet with tears; she used the end of her thermal sleeve to wipe the moisture collected beneath her nose. Teri had on two banana clips, clumsily fastened into a disheveled forest of darkly blonde hair.
"While he's passed out," she pointed to the next room, "I only hope that you check up on him. As much as I despise him at this moment, he's still the father of my children."
"I had nothing to do with this." Darius began to straighten himself up from his slumbering posture.
"No, I suppose not." She returned. It was then that he noticed she'd been carrying a pregnant suitcase.
"I'm being honest with you."
"And if you were not the results would be the same. You have your role as all protective dogs do!"
"Okay I understand that you're upset..." He got out of bed.
"I apologize. Part of me is thankful that he's safe. I've come to understand that my husband of ten years, whom I'd anticipated on sharing our anniversary today, spent the night enjoying oral sex given to him by his star and trashy harlot. Yeah!" She drew in a deep sigh.
"I've had enough. I'm off to my sister's. If he's to remember anything at all, let it be this: I only wish to hear from him regarding divorce and child-custody rights!"
She said nothing more and then twist-opened the door; popped out her umbrella and began walking towards the SUV in a downpour. The black trench coat she wore got caught as she closed the door and proceeded to peel down the expressway.
He walked back upstairs seeking his pillow for consolation. From one room over he heard Beau's throaty snores, as he'd been unaware of the damages he imparted in mid-sleep.
***
Come Sunrise
It wafted into his senses, or so he had dreamt; the scent of Canadian bacon, fresh-dark brewing roast; the sounds of eggs sizzling on a skillet. Sunlight was too strong. The early morning rays pierced his blanketed lids.
Darius heard light steps, figured Teri decided to draw from the rivers of forgiveness, so he descended the stairs, drawn in part by silhouette movements coming from the kitchen.
He found her there; curvaceous, attentive to completing breakfast.
She had him by some years. Hers was a maturity that blended well with a preserved sensuality. She held frying pan in her left hand, and with her right, she stroked her hips playfully in search of the apron strings.
"Good morning, figured the scent of breakfast would wake you up. Hungry?" She played with her hair. Darius scanned her wear: Capri pants, low-cut blouse and backless heels.
"No I'm—"
"I'm sorry, my name is Camille. I'm Teri's mother. I didn't mean to startle you. You must have thought it was my daughter. Listen, I heard the drama early this morning.
You look like a nice fellow so tell me how did you get involved in all this? "
"Everything's hazy. Look, I don't know how I got caught up in all of this. I just know that I have a Greyhound to catch and I can't get a hold of the people I was staying with. He's a grown man that confessed to his wife."
"I'm just trying to make some sense of it all, sweetie, really. I'm not trying to come down on you all at once. As for the transportation back home, it's why I'm here. I was told by Teri that I have to get some information so that we can get you there.
I mean, after all of this, she's still grateful that you got him home. But, I know my daughter. In her mind it's more like she's aware and now knows of what kind of jerk he's been."
"I'm not looking to trouble you..."
"I just need some honesty from you because right now I'm regretting I ever loaned him the money for this stripping business."
He began assembling his senses. He scoped the features of her face. She reminded him of a cross between Ann Margaret and Candace Bergeron. Her freckled, B-sized racks appeared to have been perky from a nearby draft. She removed her oven mitts.
"I made some corn muffins." She scooped her purse from off of the kitchen table, reached inside to remove a credit card. "I just need your ID."
She returned moments later. "Okay, here's the deal. There's an open flight at two o'clock so we have three hours and what...a half...to make it? I'll drop you off myself. Just sit down and have some breakfast so that we can talk."
Darius began shoveling the eggs down his hatch, washing it down with strong roasted coffee. She sat glaring at him.
"I hope you enjoyed the way I made it." She smiled. "All I can say is that they've been married for too long to have something like this ruin them. They were just puppies when they first got together in junior high."
"You know," he interrupted, "I can see the resemblance but you look more like Teri's sibling than anything else."
"Thanks, I'm 52 years old. I have to schedule personal fitness visits just to keep me active you know. I watch what I eat. I don't put junk food in my body. I never had to have plastic surgery. Been married for 35 years, and I know the kind of effort that's needed to make it work."
He said nothing and finished scoffing down breakfast. He studied the lines on her face, amazed that she'd maintained a sensuality that she'd undoubtedly exuded since well in her teens.
"I can't stay here too long my husband has a dialysis appointment."
"That must be rough."
"His livers are deteriorating and he was just diagnosed with having a form of testicular cancer. Let me not talk about this anymore. It just bums me out. I'll just get the dishes." She turned around, moved towards the sink.
Darius advanced. "I'll help you!"
He brushed up against Camille lightly, enough to have her lose grip of sense, balance and china dish. She bent down, still trembling, alarmed at having to pick up the broken pieces. "Don't mind me I'm clumsy!"
He helped her up, sensing the encompassing heat. The electric oven had been left on high. He moved her body away from the sharp pieces, as they tip-toed towards the crook between dishwasher and sink. Her mouth had easily found his.
He drew in her thin bottom lip. Traces of red lipstick had been left on his tongue, bitterly.
He turned her around, felt her body easily give into his navigational hands, sliding down her abdomen and into the matted warmth of her flesh. He hooked his fingers into her unctuous cunt.
