Unfinished Story

I walked into the bar and noticed Randy sitting alone at a table, with two mugs of beer and two shot glasses full of something that looked very strong. Randy was a gregarious fellow normally sitting at the bar in the middle of a crowd. Nodding hello to the bartender, I headed over to the table to see if he wanted some company.

"Hey Randy, you doing okay?"

"Nope, happy hour is about to end and I ain't even half drunk," he said, running his hand back through his gray streaked black hair.

"I don't know man, you seem a bit wobbly to me."

"Hell, that ain't the drinking, I wobbled in here after I damn near broke my foot kicking everything that moved and one thing that didn't move in the street," he held up his foot showing me a badly scuffed up boot.

Before I could reply Tilley, one of the waitresses stepped over and asked, "The usual Hank?"

"Yeah, but hey, give me a shot of what Randy's having too."

"Okay, but you better stay sober enough to keep an eye on him," she said and then leaned in closer, whispering, "Something ain't right with him tonight, something at home."

I nodded and then turned back to Randy, "Tell me Randy, what's got you kicking the shit out of everything in the street?"

"Ah hell Hank, Cindy's gone and done it again," he said rubbing the gray stubble on his chin.

"Stepping out with some kid again?"

"Shit Hank, it's worse than that, she's got them coming over to the house and fucking fucking them right there."

"Fucking them in the house?"

"Fucking fucking them in the fucking house... hell in Cindy's and my fucking bedroom," he said, grabbing a shot glass and quickly swallowing the liquid.

Tilley brought my drinks over, sliding two beers and two shots in front of me. I was about to say something when she said, "Still happy hour, two for one. Have fun," she said, nodding at Randy.

"Thanks," I said as she turned away. Turning back to Randy, I stared into his jet black eyes and saw a hollow look, the look of a man who has fallen into a bottomless pit. "How do you know all this?"

"I saw them Hank, hell, I not only saw them, I videotaped them."

"You what?" I asked, grabbing one of the shot glasses and swallowing. "Oh fuck," I choked, "What the hell you drinking?"

"Scorpion mescal, I'm trying to get down to the scorpion. It will remind me of Cindy."

"You said you videotaped..."

"Damn sure did. I had a feeling something was happening. When I called her in the day, she seemed nervous, like she wanted to get off the phone quick or something. Just like the last time, so I went out and bought a special video camera and set it up where I could film the bed without them seeing the camera.

"I then set up a TV out in the garage that was set up to see what was on the video camera, so I could record what was happening as well as watch. And fuck Hank, I watched every fucking second of it."

I picked up one of my beers and took a few big swallows as Randy gulped another shot of mescal and waved at Tilley. When Tilley came over he asked, "We down to the scorpion yet?"

"Yeah, I'll bring it over," she said disgustedly.

"Anyway, I had pretended to go to work, parking my truck around the corner and sneaking back into the garage to get a look at the TV. Well, when I first start watching, Cindy is by herself, in our room, but she is completely naked. Now she gets on the bed and opens her legs, running her fingers... Well hell, I got my recorder right out in the truck, I'll let you watch for yourself."

"You sure you want me to do that, I mean she's your wife and all."

"Not for long, just wait here."

I sat quietly as I watched Randy limp out to his truck, staggering a bit. He was gone long enough for Tilley to deliver his drink with a disgusted look on her face. I picked up the glass and held it up to the light. Sure enough I could see the black scorpion through the honey colored liquid.

"Damn, I heard of a worm in the bottle, but a scorpion?"

"It's some fancy mescal. I don't even drink the stuff with a worm in it. Supposedly made from some cactus or something, too weird for me."

I just shook my head and smiled.

After a few minutes I watched Randy, now staggering badly and covered with dust. He made his way back to the table and sat down. He then put his mini cam recorder up on the table.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh I thought I saw him and I went after him."

"Him? Him who?"

"Him who did my wife today."

"And?"

"Well it turned out to be not him, just some other guy."

"What did you do?"

"Well, when I saw him I went and jumped on him. He threw me on the ground and kicked me a good one, but by then I realized it wasn't him."

"You figured it out?"

"Yeah, this guy was black, the guy on the video isn't."

"So out there in the parking lot you mistook a black man for the white man who did your wife?"

"Well it was dark out and he had the same kind of boots the guy had."

"Boots, what's boots have to do with it."

"Well hell, just watch the video here," Randy said, opening the tiny screen on his recorder and turning it on. He then grabbed his drink, carefully drank all the liquid and then grabbed the scorpion, held it up in the air and lowered it down into his mouth.

The video started and I saw his wife Cindy on the bed. While listening to Randy crunch on the scorpion, I noticed that the attractive blond woman now spreading her legs, wasn't a natural blond. She moved her hands to her breasts and moved her palms in circular motions over her nipples. From what I could see, her breasts were large, perfectly rounded and I remembered Randy complaining about how much those breasts cost him.

Reaching down and casually adjusting my erection in my pants, I felt a pang of guilt getting a hard-on while looking at Randy's wife. I looked over at him, but he was now looking through his empty glass, apparently enthralled on how the lights and colors reflected off the glass.

Cindy now slowly moved her right hand down her tight stomach, sliding her fingers through her bushy patch of dark brown pubic hair and then down to her slit. Moving her middle finger in a circular motion, she burrowed into her pussy, letting the wetness lubricate her fingers. She then moved her finger up her slit and I watched her lips bloom into beautiful pink curves.

Finding her clit, she then concentrated on the tiny nub, moving her finger in a tight circular motion over it. Her other hand had continued toying with her nipples, which were standing straight up in the air. She began to move, responding to the sensations she was giving herself. Her hips rose and fell as if she was fucking someone and I couldn't help but feel a tingling in my groin, wondering what it might be like. Suddenly, she arched her back and then fell back onto the bed and curled up in a ball.

"Randy, it's only Cindy by herself here," I said, interrupting his gazing into the glass.

"Keep watch... son of a bitch!" he shouted, as a black man grabbed him by the collar and literally picked him up and dragged him toward the door. I reached down, shut off the recorder and hurried out behind them.

The black man had thrown Randy up against a truck and was about to begin beating the shit out of him when I grabbed his arm. He immediately turned to me, ready to take us both on when I shouted, "No, no man... it's all a mistake."

"Mistake hell, that's the fucker that jumped me just a few minutes ago, right here in the parking lot."

"He's sorry, he mistook you for someone else."

"He's sorry? I told him I better not see him here again or..."

"Look, come over here, let me explain," I said, gently taking the man's arm and turning away from Randy. "We don't want any trouble, but Randy's all fucked up man."

"Randy's fucked up?"

"Look man, it's his wife. He caught her fucking around on him and he had boots like yours or something."

"Hell man, I didn't..."

"No, no, it was a white man, but he had boots like yours. It's just, well you can see he's pretty drunk and apparently he saw the boots and went after you. As soon as he saw you were black, he realized he made a mistake."

"Well, that doesn't fix the shirt he damn near tore off me."

I just looked at his shirt, which appeared to be okay.

"Not this shirt, I went home and changed," he said, straightening out his shirt and tucking it in.

"Look, what did the shirt cost you?" I asked, pulling two twenties out of my wallet.

"Hell, this ain't no Wal-Mart shirt."

Nodding, I grabbed a third twenty and handed him the bills, "Will that cover it?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll leave him alone, he's been pretty fucked up already."

"Thanks man."

"But I have to admit, that guy who did his wife, he does have style," he said, holding a leg up in the air and pulling up his pant leg to give me a good look at his boot. It was decorated with a bright orange and red bird that was rising out of what looked like the fires of hell. "Seven hundred fifty bucks, only three or four boots like this in the county."

Returning to Randy, who was bent over at the waist retching, I rested my hand on his shoulder and asked, "What is it about the boots man?"

"You'll see... you'll see," he said standing upright and walking back towards the door.

"But..."

He turned back to me and said, "Come on, you'll see."