Mad Maxine

MAD MAXINE

TALES FROM BEHIND THE BAR #4

Evenin, how's it going? Have a seat at the bar here. What can ole Sam get for ya tonight? We had a party goin' on in here earlier tonight and my crew is still cleaning up. No big deal they'll be done in a minute. Anyway, your story for tonight is running a little late, too.

Here, this drink's on the house. I think you'll find Drew's story interesting on several levels. Yeah, his name's Andrew – Andrew Mitchell. You'll find he's a good man, easy-going and friendly. Stands about 5' 9", 190 lbs, lean but not skinny, with a dark caramel complexion and piercing, dark brown eyes. Gets along well with just about everybody; and those he doesn't get along with, he usually see's to it that their paths don't cross, for their sake.

He used to come in with a fine-lookin woman named LaQueisha Thompson. A real head-turner that one. A little tall at about 5'8", 135 nicely packed pounds, running 39-26-37 top to bottom. But what a bottom! Girl must have been from 'Bama cause that's the only place I've seen booty that bounces like hers. Anyway they're not together now and that's the story you're going to hear tonight. I'm sort of interested in this one myself.

Well, the crew is finally finished cleaning your table; you can take your laptop and set up soon as they finish drying it off.

"HEY you guys make sure that table is completely dry

!"

I can't afford to be buying people new computers. Anyway Drew just walked in. I'll let you two get acquainted and get down to business. The Baxter Booth's all ready. If you need anything just give ole Sam a holla.

----------------------------------------

Well, I see you're set up to record straight to your laptop. Good. Anyway, like Sam said my name's Andrew, but most of my friends just call me Drew. You know this sort of reminds me of that Red Shoe Diaries series that was on Showtime a while back. Well, here goes.

Let me start with my new job. I was hired as computer security technician for a large investment firm. Their IT section liked what I did as a temp, so I got picked up full time. Not a lot of money salary-wise, but the benefits were good, including the 401(k). My momma taught me when I was young that if I didn't have money, the next best thing was to hang around those who did. Not to pick up their crumbs in change, but to pick up some crumbs of knowledge. I got to converse with some of the top brokers in the office, so I soon had my own investment fund growing. Everything was looking good, and then I met one of the technical assistants, Lashelle Gleason.

Lashelle was/is a pretty little, petite, dark-skin woman with dark eyes and shoulder-length hair. She had a face that favored Keisha Knight Pulliam, aka Rudi Huxtable. In case you didn't know, that little girl grew up to be one FINE woman. The difference here is that Lashelle had a BUTT and legs that wouldn't wait. I mean this little bit had BEhind on her. 'Till then, I hadn't seen any woman that had booty to match my woman, but Lashelle definitely did. I knew the moment I saw her that she had to be getting hit on constantly.

For some reason she and I hit it off right away. Conversation just flowed between us. In part I think it was because the first thing she noticed was LaQuiesha's picture displayed prominently on my desk, and the second thing was that I didn't try to hook up with her. After an initial hesitancy, she seemed to relax. In addition, we shared a talent for program debugging and troubleshooting, so we could easily talk without getting into a lot of personal stuff. I didn't pay attention to the cutting eyes that followed us whenever we were walking the halls talking about something to do with programs. A couple of guys warned me that there might be a problem when Max came through. Not knowing who Max was, I really didn't give it a second thought. I figured if Lashelle's boyfriend was that jealous, he would eventually lose a quality woman like her anyway. I wasn't after his woman, so bump him ... and the horse he rode in on! Apparently Max had been out of town for 2 weeks. When Max returned, I found out about the nickname Mad Max.

The trouble started on a Wednesday afternoon. I was returning from lunch and ran into Lashelle as she was out power-walking. As usual, we started talking the job and cracking little jokes, nothing out of the ordinary or out of line. I was showing her a diagram of how we could resolve a certain problem, when suddenly I was looking at someone's back. Not just any old back, this one looked like it had played linebacker in college about 10 years ago. Not necessarily muscular, just broad, almost like some padded dummy wrapped in UPS brown.

"So what the hell's going on here?"

"MAX!"

"Don't Max me. What's up with dis. I go out of town for a few days and you start playin' around on me?"

"No. Max this ...."

I took a step back to take in the whole view. Not much better, the slacks hung off the hips like some overweight redneck. The shoes were like army surplus, which I later figured made it comfortable for standing and walking with all that weight. The top was adorned by the usual brown baseball cap with braids down to the shoulder blades. At approximately 5'10" tall, he was not that much bigger than my 5'8", but the massiveness gave the impression that he towered over me. At the time, however, I didn't care what size he was; when he grabbed Lashelle I started to intervene.

"Hey! Whoa man, slow your roll! We just talkin' business here. No need to bring the heat."

He never let go of Lashelle, just slowly turned around. I was bracing for some hard conflict until I saw tits come into view. About 43 or 44 DD, drooping. In that instant of confusion, I dropped my guard and

Maxine

shoved me backwards.

"This is an A B conversation shorty, so C your way out of here."

Male, female or creature-feature, I wasn't going to let her just punk me out.

"Look here, Magilla, if memory serves, and it does, I B here first which makes you the C- as-in-clown here. Like I said, my co-worker and I were discussing business."

For a moment we both faced off, and it was a coin flip to call the next act. However, all that was circumvented as LaShelle freed herself from Max's grasp and jumped between us.

"Max, how dare you embarrass me like this? This is Andrew Mitchell; he's new to the firm, and we're working on the project I told you about. Andrew, this is my ... friend, Maxine. You have to excuse her; she sometimes forgets she's a lady."

The stare down continued for a few moments, then Max blinked and with a snort turned her nose up and turned around to grab LaShelle by the arm, gently this time, and lead her off in the opposite direction. However the parting glances from both of them told me this wasn't over yet. LaShelle's eyes showed her embarrassment and a little fear, while Maxine's tight eyes growled, "This is my piece. Stay the hell away."

Things were decidedly cooler for the rest of the week; LaShelle and I didn't speak much unless it was about business. Gradually, though, things warmed up between us again. It was definite that LaShelle liked my friendship and she wasn't willing to let it atrophy, and it was not like we were doing anything wrong. Soon we were talking and joking about business and other mundane things again. Then Mad Max made her presence known once more.

It was a Thursday about 7:50PM. The whole workgroup had put in some extra time to get our project ready for the quarterly progress report. I was the last one to leave and was walking up the ramp in the parking garage to my car. The garage was usually well lit, but over the weekend some teenagers had snuck in and had a rave set. It wasn't unusual; it had been going on for the last few months at various parking garages in the city. I was frankly surprised that it had taken so long to hit us. Anyway, this party had damaged the light fixtures on several levels. I happened to be on the side of the drive with no lights. I noted an SUV parked under a still-functioning light directly across from me. I paid it no mind, until I got to my car and found a note stuck in the window. I unfolded it and read the large scribble.

Get in, leave the lights out, and look in front of you

.

Just then my cell phone vibrated.

"Hello."

"Slurp! Umm, yeah! Shell, baby, your pussy tastes so good!"

"Oooo yeah, Max! That's ssoo good! Oh, OH YEAH! Max, yeah... I feel your fingers deep inside me!"

As I listened to the squeals, I saw the SUV begin to bounce; then who should pop up in the front seat but Maxine! I also noticed a pair of shapely legs draped over her broad shoulders. Maxine looked directly at me and smiled as she placed a cell phone on the dash. I sat there amazed that with her bulk they could do all that in the front seat.

"Oh shit! Yeah, Max! Right there baby! I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum NOW!"

LaShelle's scream of ecstasy overloaded the line. I watched her legs go straight and finally start shivering, as her climax ran its course. Then Max sent her message. She leaned forward and I saw her arms reach out. Again I was amazed, this time at LaShelle's flexibility. Max, with LaShelle's legs still sticking up over her shoulders, pulled her up and kissed her. Then she started kissing and licking the side of her neck, causing LaShelle's face to turn toward the window. I could tell by the look on her face that she was just starting to come down as she opened her eyes, but they were still glazed. Finally, Max let her flop back down in the seat and turned to look at me again, this time with a smirk on her face. I turned off my cell phone and started the engine. As I let the car roll forward, I saluted. I got the message.

I didn't see LaShelle again until the following Tuesday. It didn't surprise me to see a scarf tied snugly around her neck. It gave me the impression that she was marked territory. There was never anything said about the Thursday night exhibition, and LaShelle seemed to avoid interaction with me except for business. Like I said earlier, that really didn't bother me one way or another because I had my own lady, and she was all I could handle. After a couple of weeks, things seemed to return to normal, but I kept a little extra distance between myself and LaShelle.

All was going good until one evening when I again worked late. I came out to the parking garage and found my car keyed. To say I was pissed was an understatement. Then I looked up and was reminded that since the rave all the levels now had security cameras installed. I went to the security office and reported the situation. Imagine my surprise and anger when I found out it was Mad Maxine that had keyed my car. I was going to go after her and whip her fat ass, but the guards stopped me and advised me otherwise. After hearing what the procedures were, I decided to wait it out.

I didn't wait long. 48 hours later, as I was eating lunch, a shadow suddenly blocked my sunlight. Then two fists slammed down on the table in front of me. Everyone around me jumped up and backed away. I sat there, trying to keep my cool, while staring at her fists.

"You got me fired, you son-of-a-bitch!"

Slowly I looked up into Maxine's scowling mug.

"No, Magilla, I didn't do shit ... yet. You did it all to yourself."

LaShelle came running up.

"Maxine, what's going on?"

"This punk-ass got me fired from my job."

"WHAT!"

"Yeah, they said I messed with his car or something like that."

"Andrew, why would you lie on Max?"

"LaShelle, I haven't lied, and I didn't contact her employer, even though she did key my car."

"That's crazy! Max would never do something like that."

"That's not what the security cameras picked up."

"WHAT!"

LaShelle stood there stunned, while Max's eye's got wide, then narrow. I braced myself for the next act.

"He's just talking smack, girl; don't listen to him."

"You better listen, LaShelle. I didn't do anything, but this company has a policy that anyone caught tampering with an employee's property on company property will be banned. In Max's case, her employer was contacted and told that she would no longer be allowed on the premises. You need smaller words for this, Magilla or do I need to sign it for you?"

"That's a lie!"

"You can see the security footage yourself, Max. Oh ... and my insurance company will be billing your former employer for repainting my car. Thanks a lot."

"Max, what the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do something like that? Don't you know you could cost me my job?"

Max stood up to her full height and stared me straight in the eyes.

"Nothing would have happened if you hadn't started messing round with him."

"Max, nothing ever happened between me and Andrew. He's got his own woman her name's LaQueisha. There's never been anything but work between us."

She just continued to stare at me.

"There's gonna be payback."

I stood up and returned her glare," Save yourself the trouble, Max. I ain't sweatin' you."

"Oh really? Well, maybe you better start."

Now I took one step forward and laughed.

"Your problem is you tryin' to prove you're more man than I am. Let me drop some science on you. You may be bigger, heavier, and maybe even stronger than me, but you will NEVER be more of a

man

than I am. That's why I rile you so much. You're tryin' to prove to LaShelle and yourself that you're a better man than I am, but you keep missing - for two reasons. One, I don't have to compete with you to get your agreement to my manhood; you didn't confer it, and you can't take it away. I grew into it, earned it. I don't need you or anyone to justify it. Second, try as you might, you are just a woman playin' at being a man. You want my agreement to give you respect and treatment as a man, but I won't give that to you. You wear 'dyke' like it's a badge of honor, but for some reason you get irritated when you run your choice of lifestyle by me and I don't buy it. You're afraid of me. Why I don't know and don't care. I ain't tryin' to take anything from you; LaShelle keeps telling you we are friends, working associates, and she's telling you the truth. You're the one who keeps getting shit twisted. I ain't gonna give your 'manhood' no props, so you need to raise up off me before something bad happens to ya."

Things seemed to move in slow motion as Mad Max reacted the way I thought she would: with a bellow, she charged me. Women backed up and turned away, not wanting to see the consequences, but curious to have the details for gossip. Men started backing up, shaking their heads as if to say "another one bites the dust." All had looks of shock on their faces when I used the only judo move I ever learned. I turned, grabbed the closest arm, and let Maxine's bulk and momentum carry her over me to land flat on her back on the ground – hard! I half expected her to jump up and growl, but I guess her size had intimidated so many that she couldn't believe that someone smaller than her took her out. By the time she got up, security was there and laid a whole lot of restraining hands on her. As they led her away she got in what I considered were her last words.

"You bastard! This ain't over."

"It better be, for your sake."

They led the screaming, growling Mad Max off the premises. Then management wanted to know if I was going to personally file assault charges against her. I told them no; that as far as I was concerned it was over. I also wanted to lessen the impact on LaShelle. I was fond of her in a friendship-sort-of-way, plus she was good at her job. However, a week later LaShelle tendered her resignation and left the company. It was with sadness that I closed the book on a person I thought had great potential as a friend.

With the exception of LaShelle leaving, the next 5 months went great. I got a promotion, more money and more responsibilities. I started taking out-of-town assignments that might see me gone a couple of days to a week. I had big fun on the assignments and even bigger fun with LaQueisha when I returned home. LaQueisha had gotten promoted on her job as well, and moved into a large 2 bedroom apartment. We were even talking seriously about marriage. Then I did something that my momma told me NEVER to do. I figured that since I intended to pop the question within a year, we may as well start getting everything in order now, so I moved in with her. It was 3 months after that I noticed things started to change.

They weren't big changes like some might think. Just little things like unanswered phone calls and e-mails. When she was supposed to be home, she wasn't. When I asked her about it, she'd say something like she had gone shopping with some friends and they had a great time so they hung out together. Since she had been basically a homebody before this, I was happy that she had found some new friends and interests. 'Famous last words?' No, more like 'Be careful what you wish for.'

I really didn't pay any special attention to the signs until I came home from one of those week-long trips. I had worked hard but didn't play hard because the playmates were just too tempting. When I did talk to LaQueisha, I let her know that the first weekend back was going to be a pantyless one for her, maybe even a no-clothes weekend. She laughed and called me crazy, but she knew that the last time we declared a no-clothes weekend we did it everywhere but swinging from the chandelier, and that was only because we didn't have one. That weekend she started from the moment I walked in the front door.

The weekend after my call, when I got home I expected all that and then some. What I got was an empty apartment at 7:30 PM. I called her cell but got her voicemail. LaQueisha staggered in at about 1:15AM. I could tell two things right away. First, she had been drinking; and second, whatever she had been into seemed sort of wild or at least busy, based on how disheveled she looked - makeup out of place, clothes all wrinkled, hair messed up, runs in her stockings, etc. I went to kiss her, but at the last instant her eyes got big and she ran for the bathroom. I listened at the closed door as she deposited the contents of her evening in the lap of the porcelain god. While she was in there, I guess it started running from both ends because when she came out in her robe she took pants and panties straight to the trash, tied the bag, and left instructions for me to take it outside immediately. By the time I came back, she was back behind the locked bathroom door. When she finally came out after a long shower, I had no problem believing her when she said she didn't feel well and wanted to go to bed. I was irritated but decided not to go off on her.

Saturday morning she found me asleep on the sofa. She knew she was in trouble and, in between groans from her hangover, was very effusive with her tears and her apology. Saturday afternoon she finally seemed to be her old self, but it wasn't until that night that we really got going. Her excuse for Friday was that the girls got together and went to a club a long ways away. Since she didn't drive she had to wait on them and the club was either out of town and /or in a dead zone because her cell didn't work.

What exposed her hand was the following Tuesday when I ran into one of the friends who was supposed to have been a part of Friday's party crew. I clowned her about keeping LaQueisha out on Friday when she was suppose to be waiting for me at home. Her friend at first clowned back; but when I mentioned the time LaQueisha came in, she got serious and said that while LaQueisha started rolling with them, she left them early in the evening, and the last they saw she was leaving the club with another woman – a big, mannish woman! She had called LaQueisha over, and after about a half hour LaQueisha came back and told them she had to make a run and to not wait for her.