Author's note: Originally I intended to submit a story entitled "Homage" a tribute to an author whose stories I've enjoyed immensely. Because, I never got permission to use his name as my protagonist, I'm submitting this instead.
It is a simple lighthearted flash story. No sex. No real drama. Beaucoup cheating, however.
Finally, I believe I've kept within the Literotica guidelines given the context of the story. If I am mistaken, I apologize.
Hope you enjoy it.
*****
I slowly scanned the sparse decorated living room. I still was finding it hard to believe that after five years of living in the same apartment I was upgrading to a newer and better apartment complex. The vast majority of my belongings were already moved or in storage. I only had the bare necessities to tide me over. In another couple of weeks, I would be completely moved out and ensconced with an additional thousand square feet and modern appliances.
Not that I was really suffering at my old place. It was quite roomy considering that I was the only occupant. But by frugal living and a big promotion at work I was ready for greener pastures. The fact that I would finally be away from the pestering shadow of the apartment complex manager was an additional bonus.
Ever since he had been hired two years ago, he managed to stalk my every move in my apartment. He would announce his presence to correct problems in my apartment that I hadn't complained about. I tried to avoid his presence as I suffered through his sexual innuendos, such as, "laying pipes" as he "repaired" my garbage disposal. Or, commenting about my "hot little bed" as he "inspected" the ceiling fan in my bedroom. Somehow, each repair required his entry into my bedroom and after each leering departure I would have the feeling he had rifled through my lingerie.
My complaints to the apartment corporate management had gone unnoticed. I couldn't prove the allegations and they appreciated the fact that he was proactive in doing repairs at the complex.
So, I suffered along until an opportunity fell in my lap. A friend was being transferred to a new job over in Europe. She had just signed a year's lease at her complex when she had been informed of her new job. She had paid six months in advance and didn't want to go through the headache of processing for a rebate and dealing with the penalty clause in her lease.
Since her attendance at her new job was urgent, I would be doing her a favor by moving in. I also factored that my lease was up for renewal. So six months free rent, a better apartment, more convenient location, goodby creepy guy—yeah, that was a no brainer.
Still, it wasn't my dream location. I still fantasized about having a place overlooking Lake Michigan and being close to "The Magnificent Mile" of Chicago, but since Prince Charming was taking his damn sweet time of finding me and presenting me with a glass slipper, I would take what I could.
That was especially true regarding boyfriends. I dated around, I wasn't promiscuous, but it sure felt like I was kissing a lot of frogs looking for Mister Right. The latest being Jack Simmons, a guy I knew from work.
He kept hounding me and hounding me until I finally said yes to a date. He took me to dinner at a fairly decent place and things were okay, nothing spectacular as we talked and I found myself committing to another date next Saturday. Then the check arrived and he looked at me and said that he left his wallet at home and would I mind paying for it.
I would have to say he was pissed when I refused to let him follow me to my apartment...Cheap bastard.
Next Saturday arrived and I was pacing around searching for an excuse to cancel the date when my doorbell rang.
I opened it and there was a plain looking woman I had never seen before. She was accompanied by a large black male, six children of various ages ranging from young adult to toddler, a mountain of luggage, and a large pit bull that I immediately had misgivings about.
When she failed to engage in the proper etiquette of a visitor and announce a greeting and why she was at my door, I went ahead and initiated the conversation.
"Hello," I said questioningly as I took in the ensemble at my doorstep. The woman just glared at me for a moment. She continued to stare at me without saying a word. I looked at the large black male. He had a bored expression on his face. I scanned through the children, the oldest was buried in her cell phone texting, the three youngest were busy tracing a tattoo design in pen on the toddler to match the prison ink-like tattoos adorning their arms.
Again, I looked at the woman and repeated, "Hello."
She still didn't say anything. Perhaps she didn't speak English, I thought. I started delving into my high school Spanish. This was going to be one short conversation however after I asked her for a beer and where was the bathroom.
"Buenos Dias?"
No Response.
"Holla?"
Nada.
"Bonjour?" I courageously branched out to French.
"Guten Tag?"
Still nothing.
"Ciao?"
I was flummoxed by the lack of response. Oh, God, maybe she was Canadian!
"Heh?"
Shit, still nothing. I started trying to recall words I knew in Russian, Chinese, Indian, or Japanese.
"Sushi?"
"Are you Ann Donovan?" I finally heard from the woman. Thank God, she did speak English.
"Why yes I am," I exclaimed, "and who do I have the pleasure of speaki-HEY, YOUR DOG IS HUMPING MY LEG! GET HIM OFF ME!" I screamed retreating in the apartment in an effort to break contact with the mutt.
The woman and her group followed into my apartment. "I'm Claire Simmons, and you are screwing my husband!"
"You think your husband is a dog?" I asked as I wrenched free of the canine and stood on the seat of a kitchen chair to escape. Undeterred, he went over and sniffed at one of my houseplants and started humping away.
The woman looked at me confused, "No, my husband isn't a dog!...Well, maybe he is a dog...but not that kind of dog. No, my husband is Jack Simmons and you are having an affair with him," she said accusingly.
"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not having an affair with him!" I climbed off the chair still eyeing the pit bull screwing my vegetation. I pointed at the dog and said, "And get him to stop doing that to my plant!" I continued to watch as the leaves and limbs shook violently.
"Best, not interfere with Lady. She'll be through in a minute...You got any beer?" I heard the bass tone growl from the black male and he began looking uninvited into my refrigerator.
I turned to the woman, "You named a male dog, Lady?"
She sniffed, "Lady, is confused in her sexual orientation. I'm trying to convince her veterinarian to do a sex change operation. She'll be happier and better adjusted as a female."
"But, don't try to avoid me. We are here because of you fucking my husband, Jack, you slut!"
I tried to calm down and said conciliatorily "Look, I went out on one date with him. I didn't know he was married. He never wore a ring!"
"That's no excuse for breaking up a happy home," she replied.
"He chased after me for months! He never mentioned a family. I'm not having an affair with him. Hell, I haven't even kissed him! I've been trying to figure out a way to break a date I have with him tonight!"
Her eyes narrowed, "What's the matter? He isn't good enough to date you? How dare you insult my husband!"
I was sputtering for an answer as the phone rang.
"Hi Ann, just wanted to let you know I'm looking forward to our date...be sure to bring enough cash for tonight, okay?"
"There isn't going to be any date tonight! You forgot to tell me you were married! Your wife is here with me right now!" I angrily cried.
"Which one?"
"Which one!" I sputtered to remember his wife's name. "Claire, her name is Claire . . . wait a minute. How many wives do you have?"
"Four, but one day I'll go and get a Mexican divorce from two of them."
"Which will still leave you with one wife too many!"
"My God, Ann, I'm seeing you in a whole new light. Your jealousy isn't very pretty," he said sadly. "I hope one day you can get over the hate you have. In the meantime, I'll swing by in an hour for our date."
"Look Bozo! Come over here and get Claire and your family and get the hell out of my life!" I disconnected in time to see the black male walking down the hallway carrying my only six pack of beer and disappearing in my bedroom.
"I would appreciate you not cursing in front of my children, you fucking slut," Claire announced primly.
I pointed at the black male as he closed the door to my bedroom. "Who the hel—heck is that in my bedroom?"
"Oh that's Tyrone, my oldest son," she explained.
"He looks twenty years older than you Claire and he's black."
"He's only fourteen years older than me and he's adopted. I've spent countless hours trying to help him get over his damaged psyche from small-minded people like you! First, his parole officer and now you!"
"Let me get this straight. You adopted an adult black male in your family?" I asked even though I knew the answer.
"Have you no shame, Ann Donovan," Claire searched her answer in my eyes. "If I had known that you were a racist and an ageist, I would have never agreed to move my family in with you."
"What do you mean moving in with me? I never agreed to let you move in with me!" I screamed. I jumped into the kitchen chair as Lady tried to sneak up on me. With a look of disappointment, Lady began humping the leg of the kitchen chair I stood on.
At that point, her young son about the age of ten walked over to us. "Mom, she got all the porn channels blocked on the TV," he complained.
"Don't worry, son, I'll get the password from her, I will not allow her to stunt your sexual education." She patted him placidly on the head as he walked back to join the other rugrats.
