The blare of my alarm clock shook me from my slumber. The infernal machine was irritating me to no end. With one eye open, I slapped the plastic disruptor, quieting the noise box. Standing, I padded my tired bones to the bathroom for my first whizz of the day. Washing my hands and brushing my teeth, my next stop was to the kitchen. My body was in desperate need of caffeine. Opening the fridge, I stared at the empty container.
“Shit.” I spit.
This was shaping up to be the worst month in my entire life. It all started on a wind- swept morning, the sound of the air slashing against my window arousing me before my alarm clock. Only to be greeted with an empty bed. The phone call from my ex-girlfriend Rhonda saying she “needed space…” or whatever the fuck that meant. If it hadn’t been for the male voice chuckling in the background, I might have fought to keep her. Instead, my morning was spent chucking her crap into 6 plastic garbage bags and throwing them out in the hall of my apartment building. Not giving two shits if she picked them up or they got taken by some Nair-do-wells that lived there. The next bit of bad news came at the luncheon at work. We were all told that the start-up tech company that so many of us had put our blood, sweat, tears, long hours and short breaks into, had been sold off by that no-good ass boss of ours Todd. The bastard didn’t even have the common decency to let us know that the new company wasn’t keeping anyone on, outside of upper management, because the offices were being moved to San Diego. Instead, Karen (the beached whale), was given the task of telling everyone they had been fired by close of business.
Yet, all that would have been palatable compared to the final phone call I got as I sat at my computer working my side-gig to keep my bills paid for the month.
“I regret to inform you, that your brother; Staff Sergeant Bruce Wallace, was found deceased this morning in Hanover Park. Because you are listed as his next of kin…blah, blah, blah”
I found myself looking at an empty refrigerator. My body working on the auto pilot of trying to produce my morning coffee, to jumpstart my brain. The plastic jug that held my grounds was practically empty. Only filled with a half teaspoon. Not enough to make a cup of instamatic sludge, much less a pot of good brew to get the day started. Walking to the pantry, I looked in my Hot Cocoa can. Also, empty. Rhonda emptied it before she went to suck some other motha’fucka’s dick (the thirsty bitch). With no other alternative, I grabbed the last hot tea bag I had, and hoped it would be enough. I put a pot of water on the stove before I sat at my computer.
Logging in, I first checked my email account to see if I had any hits on my resumes. Not so surprisingly, other than spam mail, nothing so far. My next search was to the unemployment site. I would have been more shocked if it came back “approved.” Yet, like yesterday, the screen only blazed the word; “Pending.” Running my hand over my hair, I was about ready to scream, when the shrill tone of my phone stabbed through the fog of my sleep addled brain. Striding to my bedroom I picked up my phone and froze. My heart skipping several beats. The caller ID on the screen reading; “Bruce BB.” I dropped the machine as I couldn’t comprehend how I was getting a call from my dead big brother. I was just at his funeral last week. The sounds of the 11-gun salute still ringing in my ears. Upon hitting the floor, my phone went silent. I shook my head as the bang it made cut through the memory. Picking it up, I slapped my head. The damn screen was cracked all the way across.
“Smooth Franklin. Real smooth. Another stupid thing to have to fix.”
I had just put the phone in the pocket of my pajama pants when the altered ring and vibration startled me. Again, the ID came up “Bruce.” Immediately, a host of tv shows popped in my head, where people had been contacted from the other side in various ways. I wondered if I answered it, would the ghostly sound of my beloved dead brother’s voice come through to tell me “he was okay” or “I miss you bro?” On the last ring, I punched the answer key. Awaiting what would happen next.
A string of unintelligible Spanish rushed over the line. I had to hold the phone away from my ear it was so loud. “Hello?! Helllllloooo?!” I shouted.
“Franky?! Franky?!!” Came the distraught voice. “Are you there Franky?!!!”
Though it took my sleep addled, caffeine deprived mind a second, my brain kicked into gear hearing the feminine sound of panic. Now it made sense. I forgot all about my brother’s wife, Dominique.
“Yeah…I’m here. Where’s the fire?!”
“AI DOS MIO!!! NO FIRE!! HELP ME POR FAVOR!!
“What’s going on?!”
“There’s water everywhere!!!!”
“OK…don’t panic, I’ll be right over!!!”
Punching the end call button, I frantically dressed in the t-shirt and jeans I had on the night before. Last stop was to my hall closet to grab my bag of tools, my car keys off the hook in the living room, and out the door. As I drove to my brother’s old house, my mind raced back 6 years ago to when I first met Dominique.
I was in the Navy, stationed on the USS Cape St. George out of San Diego. We were just pulling in from our 6-month Westpac. The pier was overflowing with family, friends and loved ones for the returning sailors. I wasn’t expecting anyone to show up. The last I heard; Bruce was still stationed at Port Hueneme. Mom and Dad still lived in Virginia, and my last girlfriend transferred to Norfolk a full year ago. Walking off the prow, a sea bag of dirty clothes over my shoulder, I heard my name being shouted above the din of the collective throng. From out of nowhere, Bruce wrapped me in the biggest bear hug ever! His strong squeeze curving the 3 rows of ribbons on my summer white uniform.
“Bruce!” I said in utter surprise. “What are you doing here?!”
“Came to see you come in Big guy! Annnnnnndddd….”
Pointing his hand in the direction of a huge sign with my name on it, the sign dropped to show one of the most beautiful (and exotic) faces I had ever seen. An angelic, oval face framed by the longest, curliest, most luxurious, past shoulder length mane of black hair I had ever seen. Her big, round, brown eyes just drew you in. Her impish smile reminded you of unicorns and Menudo posters. All stacked atop a frame that couldn’t have been taller than 5,4”-5,6” in heels. If I didn’t know my brother any better, I would say he should be arrested for trolling the local high schools!
“This…is my new wife. Dominique.”
My mouth dropped open (what else did you expect me to do). Not only had my beloved big brother come to claim me from my ship and my lonely existence. But he was showing off his NEW, YOUNG, SMOKING HOT WIFE to boot!
“Hi.” I said extending my hand.
She smiled nervously as her hand touched mine. A slight bolt of electricity shocking us as we touched. “Hola. It’s nice to meet you Franklin.” Her English was clipped. Doused in a heavy Spanish accent.
“What you got in there bro?”
“Nothing much…just some laundry. You know how it is.”
“LAUNDRY?!!! You mean to tell me you don’t have any connections with the SK’s (Storekeepers) onboard that you know can wash that stuff, so you can go out and PARTY on the first night home?! What kind of a 2nd class sailor are you?!”
“The kind that hates others looking at his skivvies.”
“What’s your schedule like anyway?”
“You know…we just pulled in. All the computers are off. Skeleton crew for the next week. If you don’t have to be here for duty…you don’t have to be here. Just call in before 6 for muster.”
“That settles it. Come on….you’re coming home with us and you’re not going to be moping around this tired old ship for your time off. We’re going to PARTY!!!”
That night, Bruce drove me to his housing in Port Hueneme. All night long, he introduced me to his Marine and Sailor friends from the base. Showing me off like a brand-new car. I met so many new sailors and their wives that I really got along with. However, you don’t spend time with a Marine and NOT get to drink. The alcohol flowed as we ate some of the spiciest, most delicious BBQ that I had tasted in years. Before I knew it, my weakness for alcohol began to show. The months spent at sea diminishing my body’s ability to filter out the spirits. When I awoke, the sun was beaming through the windows in his living room. Someone had placed a sheet over my comatose body where I had passed out from the night before. As I moved my aching body (and most especially my head), I heard tiny feet walk across the carpet in my direction. Dominique padded over to me as I rested my back against their couch.
“Here.” She whispered. Her thick Spanish accent ringing through. In one hand she placed a couple pills that looked like aspirin. In the other, a steaming cup of black coffee. “Thank you.” Was all I could muster. Slamming the pills home, I followed that with the coffee. My face scrunching up from the lack of cream and sugar.
“THERE HE IS!!! THE MAN! THE MYTH! THE LEGEND….FRANKYYYYYYY WAAAAALLLLLLAAACCCCEEEEE!!!” Bruce yelled almost at the top of his lungs. “I GOTTA HAND IT TO YOU NAVY BOYS!!! I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MAN SLEEP SO SOUNDLY ON A HARD FLOOR BEFORE!! AND THE WAY YOU STARTED STRIPPING IN FRONT OF THE LADIES LAST NIGHT!!! EPIC!!! YOUR PANTS SHOULD HAVE ABOUT $200 EXTRA DOLLARS IN THEM LIL BRO!!! So….HOW YA’ FEELING THIS MORNING?!!!”
As if to answer his question, I arose from the floor like a speed demon, almost knocking poor Dominique over on my way to the bathroom in the hallway. Everything I had eaten last night and for the past 6 months came spewing out as an offering to my brother’s porcelain God. As I hurled, all I could hear was my big brother’s bellicose laughter.
Pulling up to the house, I hopped out of my car and raced to the front door. Dominique answered looking a hot, wet mess. Dressed in only a knee length nighty, Dominique was wet all the way from her head to her nicely manicured toes.
I was immediately ravaged with a string of rapid-fire Spanish. It’s too bad I flunked Spanish in middle school (twice). I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. Sensing my confusion, Dominique grabbed my wrist and hauled me into the house. When I saw the kitchen, I understood instantly. The faucet was running, a steady fountain spraying into the air and all over the floor. The linoleum was covered by at least a ¼ inch of water that was pooling as I stood watching.
Springing into action, I got on my knees in the puddle and opened the cabinet. Throwing household cleaners this way and that, I finally got to the water controls and shut off the spout. Sensing her at my side, I stood up and looked at my sister-in-law. Just like the first day I met her, she stood short as a fire hydrant. Her hair was wet to the shoulder, steadily dripping into the pool. Her big doe like eyes were red and tired looking. The water having soaked her face, making her look as if she had been crying (in the circumstances, had she). The most glaring thing about her though, was her night gown, that was soaked all the way through the thin material. Clinging to her flawless chestnut colored skin. Unfortunately, she wore nothing else underneath her covering. Save for the pink panties that covered her mound. Her nipples, stiff and threatening to poke holes in the front of her gown.
“Oh, thank you for coming Franky. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She said.
“Not a problem. I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”
“God, what a mess. I’ll be cleaning this up all day.”
“Not if I help you with it. Remember, I was in the Navy. I did this kind of stuff for a living. You got a bucket and mop?”
“Yeah.” She replied. “They’re right over here in the pantry.”
Striding over to the closet, I got to see Dominique’s “assets” for the first time. I had seen many Latinas during my time in the service and none of them had the round, shapely ass that my sister-in-law possessed. I felt a tingle in my crotch. My little head awakening as my eyes took in the pink panty clad beauty. Dominique walked back over to me and handed me the cleaning implements I asked for. Yet, against my conscious wishes, my eyes betrayed me. Dominique caught me looking at the nipples straining against the material of her gown. Feeling ashamed, I averted my gaze and tried not to blush.
“Uhhhh….I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s ok Franky. I forgot to put anything on before I called you. Give me a minute to change.”
Dominique strode to the back of her house. Her feet making nary a sound.
“Fuck Franky, that was really stupid.” I reprimanded myself. “She’s Bruce’s wife! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…” Not thinking about it, I began to slap my head repeatedly.
“What the hell are you doing Franky?”
I didn’t hear Dominique come up behind me even though she had covered her feet in sandals. To match the knee high, denim jeans and the deep red shirt she wore with the words, “I am a Marine wife….SEMPER FIDELIS.”
“Nothing Dominique. Just thinking about…”
“Ah! Don’t even go there. It happened, you’re a man, it’s ok. Let’s just move on.” Dominique said. A slight smile on her lips.
The cleanup process went by quickly. Between Dominique and I (and years of experience I gained in the Navy); we got the kitchen cleaned in a jiffy. The long part came when I tried to take apart the faucet to ascertain what went wrong. My experience in the Navy had trained me to be a computer analyst. Able to take them apart, put them back together and troubleshoot them more or less with my eyes closed. I was not however trained to turn a wrench. Don’t get me wrong, I have turned a screw or two in my life. But I was not some mechanical genius. After about 20 minutes, I figured out that the washer and bearing in the sink had been ruptured and needed replacing.
“Okay Dominique. I found the problem. There are just a couple things that need replacing. I can pick them up from the hardware store if you like.”
“Thanks, wait just a second.” She disappeared, giving me another glance at her toned legs and her luscious behind. She ran back a few moments later and shoved a $50 in my hand. “Would you mind fixing it for me? I don’t want to wait on a repair guy.”
“Sure. No sweat.” My dick tingled again. Looking into her big brown eyes, her flawless, youthful skin, and the touch of her feather light fingers in mine…I was close to saying something inappropriate.
I felt ten times better after I climbed in my car and got on the road to the hardware store. The close proximity to my sister-in-law was making my sex starved body crave the touch of a woman. Going in the store, was like handing me a sheet of hieroglyphics and asking for a translation. I had no idea where to start. It took about 8 minutes of my walking up and down the BATHROOM aisle before a kind worker named Darcy, took pity on me. In about the time it takes to make a 3-minute egg, I had the parts and additional accoutrements necessary to fix the faucet.
When I returned, Dominique greeted me with the biggest smile. As I worked on the faucet (only barely having a clue as to what I was doing), Dominique made it a habit of every now and then looking over my shoulder to check on the progress. Because of her stature, she might have had no idea how she was effecting me. Her soft, round breast would push into my back. The contact making my dick begin to throb. Several times, I had to lean myself into the counter-top just to hide my arousal.
“Almost done Franky?”
“It might take another couple minutes.” I responded. Just then a body racking yawn escaped my mouth. “Phew. Sorry.”
“Oh my god! Are you still sleepy? I didn’t wake you this morning did I?”
“No. I was awake.” I said as I turned the screw. “I just missed my coffee. I ran out. I had some tea ready, but then you called.”
“I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you say something silly man?”
As I continued working, Dominique set about making a fresh pot of coffee. The strong aroma spurred me on. Focusing me to the task of finishing the faucet. By the time it was ready, I turned around and my sister-in-law was holding a steaming, fresh cup in her hands.
“Here you go.” Taking the mug, I sipped lovingly at the hot liquid. “Is it any good?”
I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes as I savored the strong coffee. “It’s perfect. Just like I would have made it.”
Dominique smiled from ear to ear. “Good. I remembered you like cream and sugar from the first time. You know your brother…”
She stopped. Her face fell as the memory of our lost love ran through her mind. “I’m glad you like it.” Turning, Dominique walked slowly to the living room. Flopping down on the couch. I could hear the tears begin to form in her eyes. Sitting next to my sister-in-law, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. When I did, the flood gates opened, and the sorrow began to flow.
“I miss him so much!” She screamed. Feeling helpless, I hugged her tighter to my chest. The tears fell against me. Eventually breaking my own dam of resistance. Within moments, we both sat on the couch crying. Two people lamenting the loss they felt.
“I’m sure he loved you Dominique. I don’t know why he died like he did. I’m sure he’s in a better place.”
Dominique howled. Her tears becoming harder. “NO, HE’S NOT!!! HE KILLED HIMSELF FRANKY!! YOU CAN’T GO TO HEAVEN IF YOU KILL YOURSELF!!! IF HE LOVED ME SO MUCH HE WOULDN’T HAVE KILLED HIMSELF!!!”
My jaw dropped open. In all the talks I had with his former friends and coworkers at the funeral, no one told me Bruce killed himself. What the hell?! How?! What was my big brother going through that he would do such an awful thing?! Pulling Dominique away from me I looked her in the eyes.
“What?! What the hell Dominique?! Why would he kill himself? What do you know?!”
Dominique stared at me silently for several minutes. The tears slowly backing off. Wiping her face, she said: “you didn’t know? Your brother had been taking meds for several years. Once he left the Corps, he was being treated at the VA for something called…PSTD…no that’s not it. PSAF, PSDS….OH God….what was it….”
“PTSD?” I answered.
“Yes…that’s it. He has a whole box full of pills that they gave him.”
“But...why didn’t he say anything? He never told me anything.”
“You know your brother. He was a big strong man. He was a Marine. It’s not like they go around talking about what bothers them. Oh Franky…you should have seen him. He was a mess for a while before he went and got help. There were days, he would just look off into space. Or days that my touching him would just make him flip out. The worst was at night. He would have nightmares that eventually forced me to leave our bed. He would talk in his sleep. Screaming, shouting and throwing fists like he was fighting a gang of men or something. Some nights he would be hot like an oven…others, he was cold as ice. Either way, he would sweat like he just ran a marathon or something. He was a mess after his three tours in Iraq.”
I sat with my sister-in-law. Confusion written all over my soul. Bruce had always seemed to have everything together. To me, a God amongst men. Never a care in the world. A man without fear. Now, I hear that he was the most troubled in the room. And I could do nothing to help him.
“My God Dominique. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
Grabbing my arm, my lithe sister-in-law threw my arm around her shoulders. Nestling her head against my chest and slumping into my arms. We held each other for a moment. No more words between us. Yet again, my body betrayed me. Its deprivation of female contact, crying out for attention. As she took in my strength, I took in her scent. Dominique smelled lovely. A mixture of mangos and coconuts. A spicy aroma that could only remind one of Tijuana. Her body heat, soft and inviting. My cock began to rise against my will. I had to get away before I really made an ass of myself.
“Well…here’s the rest of the money you gave me.” I said as I stood. “I have to get back to work anyway.”
“No.” She said, holding back a sniffle. “You keep it. Just do me a favor…come see me again. OK?”
“You got it. Uhhhh….I’ll talk to you later. And thanks.”
I left Dominique in my wake. My heart and head full of conflict. How in the world could my mind and body want to betray my brother’s memory by trying to bang his wife? And what kind of animal takes advantage of a woman in mourning? Christ…I must really have issues. Almost as much as my brother. Just then, my stomach grumbled. Having had no fuel put into it since last night. I pulled over at the next fast food joint. Without even thinking of it, I ordered a double bacon cheeseburger, fries and a strawberry shake. Bruce’s favorite no matter where we went. I must SERIOUSLY need to see a shrink.
Getting home, I remained on the computer till well into the night. My side hustle was working as a computer troubleshooter for a programming company. Even at this late date, many people weren’t more computer literate than turning the thing on and looking online for crap to buy. Our clientele consists mostly of older people I have to walk through normal programs like calendars, file retrieval, pictures, setting up printers and copy machines, and debugging systems that have gotten infected. The only good thing about this job is that you work from home, make your own hours, and most issues can be handled within 30 minutes. The downside is that the pay is only $7.50 an hour and you don’t get paid but twice a month. Which for me sucks. My next payday wouldn’t be for another 4 days.
Even though I had had a long day according to my clock (it showed 11:55 PM), I was still wide awake. Worse still, I was horny as hell. The proximity I had with Dominique earlier in the day had been racing through my head endlessly. Scrolling through my favorite porn site, after what seemed like forever (which in reality took only about 20 minutes), I found the woman I was searching for. Jocasta Cheyenne was a short, honey skinned, Cuban/Black mixed porn star that I saw long ago in a throw away “training video” from my Navy days.
According to the information about her, she was only in the business for about 3 years, married some small-time real estate investor, and got out. In total, she only made about 70 videos. But her stunning beauty, exotic features, and acting chops made her a fan favorite that reached the top 100 during her time. While they were no doubt separate women, the resemblance between Jocasta and Dominique was strikingly similar. Pulling out an old shirt and a dollop of lotion, I stroked my dick to scene after scene of Jocasta taking penis in every position and every hole. Before I knew it, she had a cheerleading outfit on, taking a King-sized dick from behind. My cock erupted like a volcano. Spewing my man goo past my t-shirt and splattering on the headboard. My body shook from the sheer release of sexual tension. Once they stopped, I cleaned up my mess. Took a quick shower and climbed in bed. Tearful eyes sending me to sleep. As I felt such guilt from marking Jocasta as a favorite porn star. A pale substitute, for my sister-in-law.
The next morning was like Ground Hog’s day. I awoke to the sound of birds chirping loudly in the trees outside. My cock already up and throbbing. And my dumb ass not having gotten coffee on the way home. Loading up my laptop again and logging in to check on my progress with work and unemployment. The word “Processing” was the only good news I had so far. Just as I was about to log into my side gig, the warbling ring of my broken cell phone caught my attention. Ground Hog’s day for sure, as my brother’s id came up again.
“Hola!” came the sweet Spanish accent. “Can you come over again? I really need your help with something.”
“On my way.”
Surprisingly, the drive to my brother’s house was almost devoid of any real traffic. By the time I got there, most of the school zones were just then beginning to activate. The little ones and their larger siblings hurrying to learn the lesson for the day. I knocked on the door and waited. A couple heartbeats later, I was almost knocked out. Dominique stood tall and proud in an oversized, cut off red sweater. The neck having been cut out to stretch the opening and allow for the material to sag off of her shoulder. Capped off with a pair of form fitting black yoga pants. Dear God…this woman was gorgeous.
“Hey! Thanks for coming over.” She said moving aside so I could walk in. As I passed, I took in the intoxicating scent of her body wash and shampoo. Whatever it was, the combination was enchanting.
“What’s going on D?” I asked. Not realizing I was speaking so familiarly.
“Oh…I couldn’t sleep. I was wondering if you could help me go through some of Bruce’s things. I’m not ready to throw them out yet. But having all his stuff around just makes me miss him even more. I hope you don’t mind.”
How could I say no? As much as I missed my brother, going through some of his stuff might also help me to get over his loss. Looking around the living room, I noticed a host of boxes and bags filled with his stuff. Only the bare minimal remained. A shadow box of his uniform and medals, a couple citations and awards in frames on the wall. But none of the pictures that they had taken. Just the one from their wedding.
Following her into the kitchen, she grabbed a small box and whirled around so fast, I almost ran into her. “Here. You and he drank more coffee than I ever would. Do you want them?”
The box was filled with coffee mugs that Bruce had collected over his time in the Corps, including every one of his rank increases and a couple from various vacations the two had gone on. “Thanks.” I said. Stunned at the sheer amount he had collected.
“I also made a fresh pot of coffee if you hadn’t had any yet. See I remember. These rooms are already done. I need more help back here.”
Quickly filling a mug, I followed behind my sister-in-law as she led me to the back rooms. I quickly averted my eyes as they ventured a quick gaze at the sexy sway of her hips and ass. What in the FUCK was wrong with me?
The first room was a study of sorts. In one corner was a desk and chair, with a computer. The screen saver a picture of the Iwo Jima memorial statue. Ah Bruce. The quintessential Marine. Against another wall sat a large bookshelf filled with innumerable tomes with pages of knowledge. Like most other things in the home, it was a tribute to the life in and of the Marine Corps.
“I am not so sure what I can do with all these books. I mean, where can I take them all?” Dominique lamented.
“Well, I’m sure the public library would be happy to take a majority off your hands. If not, you can always contact the base. I’m almost certain the library there would be thrilled to take them off your hands.” We worked for almost a half hour scrolling through the mass of pages. And while most of the books were about the Corps. Many books contained other memories. Including my brother’s old yearbooks from High School and college.
“Hey…here’s his Junior year yearbook!” I shouted. “Wait, wait, wait there’s a picture in here you have to see of Bruce and his best friend at the time…”
“No.” Dominique stated flatly. “I’ve probably seen it already a hundred times. Tell you what…why don’t you keep it.”
I looked at her perplexed. No words able to come to my mouth. “That should do it.” She replied calmly. “Let’s go in the bedroom. I know there’s a lot of stuff in there.”
Saying nothing, I marched with her into their abode. A sanctuary I never would have dreamed of entering before today. It was done nicely. What caught my eye the most were the framed pictures of Buffalo Soldiers and Latina women in traditional dress. Pictures that reminded one of the old West. Brave men with pistols in their hands riding atop muscular steeds, women gathering water, serving food, or working in the field. A homey feel to the room that bespoke peace and tranquility.
“Hey…open some of those bags will you?” Dominique said while opening the drawers in the dressers. Grabbing the box of trash bags off the bed, I opened one of the enormous bags and stood ready. For what I had no idea.
“I’m going to hand you some of his stuff. Just throw it in the bags ok. If you see anything you want, just put it off to the side. OK?”
Before my mouth opened to protest, Dominique began to pass me two handfuls of t-shirts, one right after the other. She was handling them so fast I couldn’t tell if she was mad or just in a hell of a hurry. I barely kept up. Lord knows, I could’ve used her speed on a few “working parties” when I was in the Nav. In minutes, we had filled 5 bags with t-shirts, skivvies, polo shirts, and just wacky shirts that Bruce had collected over the years. When she stopped for a breather, Dominique stretched. Moving her arms and legs as if she hadn’t used those muscles in a while.
“Phew! I need a shower.” She said giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Yeah, I could probably use one myself.” I replied. Knowing I had just showered the night before. The image of my shameful actions before snuck into my head for a hot second. “Well, if that’s all you needed; I’m just going to go…”
“NONSENSE.” Dominique said. “I have three bathrooms. Just take a shower here.”
“D, I don’t have any…”
“We just spent the last hour packing away clothes I don’t need. I’ll get you something to wear silly man!”
“But D…” I protested.
Dominique would have none of it. With a playful smile on her lips, my sister-in-law pushed me in the back leading me to the guest bathroom in the hallway. “Go ahead and strip. I’ll get you some stuff to wash with and some clothes to put on.” With that, Dominique slammed the door. Leaving me to the empty space of my feelings and confused mind.
As I stripped, I took in the heady scent of my own aroma. While I had showered last night, the workout I was undertaking helping my sister-in-law was working against my deodorant. Worse still, my dick was not helping the situation. The glimpses of my sister-in-law’s exquisite body was putting way too much wind in my sail. When I pulled my pants and boxers down, it comically bobbed up and down at me. A dark brown, ridged door stop that was too nosy for his own good.
“You are no help at all.” I told the stiff part of me that was just BEGGING to invade my poor little, bereaved relative.
“What was that?” Came the voice from behind me. Without knocking, Dominique had snuck her arm into the bathroom to lay a towel and rag on the counter.
“Nothing D. Thanks.” I shouted through the door. Not wanting to make things any worse, I stepped into the shower and turned the water on. “You are going to get me into SO much trouble.” I remarked as the water hit me. I had deliberately turned the water to a setting that was just under “lukewarm.” In the desperate hope that the chill would at the very least shrink my engorged issue. As the spray hit my eyes, I only then realized that the only soap available was a set of butterfly shaped soap bars that were no doubt there more for decoration than actual use.
“Hey D?! I forgot the soap could you…”
“No need to yell. I’m right out here. I forgot to put some in there. Can you feel my hand?”
I froze. I honestly couldn’t remember if the curtain was see-through or not. But one way or another, I’m certain Dominique got an eyeful. Reaching around, I bumped into her hand. The bottle dropping to the tub below. Quickly, I wiped the water from my eyes so I could see where it had gone too. Just then I heard the door close shut. My mind raced as I picked up the bottle of soap. Did Dominique just try to catch a peek at me on the sly? Looking at the bottle, I noted it was a bottle of “Hickory Glory.” The only soap Bruce ever used. Not only because it smelled great with its deep, musky scent. But it was also rather expensive as it was the same stuff our grandfather wore and wasn’t as mass produced anymore.
I washed quickly. The temp just enough to have the desired effect of deescalating the uprising I had in my southern region. Getting out of the shower, I checked the countertop and found a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. Both in the colors of the Marines. As well as a pair of “tighty whities.” Underwear I hadn’t worn since boot camp. I came out of the bathroom. The steam proceeding me into the hallway.
Walking back to the room, I caught sight of Dominique pulling up her shorts. My eyes just catching the sight of her glorious ass cheeks swathed in a black thong. Good Lord….my timing was NOT the greatest in the world. Unless I was trying to pay her back for the peek she might have gotten earlier.
“AHEM.” I said, clearing the imaginary phlegm from my throat. ”I’m done. Where do you want me to put these dirty things?”
Dominique turned without so much as a hint of surprise. “Oh, just throw them on the floor. I’ll wash them later. OH MY! You look…wait a second.”
Running into her walk-in closet, she returned a second later holding a very large jacket. Just from the make and cut of it, I could tell it was a “cruise” jacket. No doubt one that Bruce obtained from his ventures around the world while in the service.
“There. That’s perfect! You look great!” She beamed as she wrapped the coat on my back. “You should keep it.”
“D…I can’t keep this.”
“No…I know your Navy and he was a Marine. But still…”
“It’s too big…it swallows me.”
“You’ll grow into it…”
“D…”
“You look so much like…”
“I can’t TAKE THIS!!!!”
“Yes, you can….if you only take in the ….”
“DAMMIT DOMINIQUE!! I’M NOT BRUCE!!!!”
“PLEASE TAKE IT HOME!!! TAKE ALL THIS STUFF WITH YOU!!! I CAN’T KEEP LOOKING AT IT!!! IT’S TEARING ME APART!!! DON’T YOU SEE THAT!!!
The tears fell like a waterfall. Dominique slammed her head into my stomach and let loose the anguish she kept inside. Within seconds, Bruce’s shirt was soaked with the tortured tears of his widow’s soul. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her. Holding her tight to me. It never occurred to me the pain she must have felt being alone in a house 3 sizes too big, full of memories of the person they loved.
“I’m sorry D. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I can only imagine what you have gone through seeing me and remembering him.”
“I know you’re not Bruce; Franklin. But you’re all I have left in this world.” She cried.
“But…what about all those people at the funeral? I know some of them call you; don’t they?”
“They did. But most all of them were Bruce’s friends. I only knew a couple of them really at all. And they have all gone on with their own lives. The men are back at work. And their wives are taking care of their families. You know…Bruce always wanted children. He just wanted to wait until after he was done with the Army…”
“You mean the Marines?” I corrected.
“You know what I meant. But once he was done…he wasn’t the same. Then he started to go bad. Well…you know the rest.”
I wanted to cry. All the hopes and dreams my brother and his wife shared, gone in the blink of an eye. The victims of the job of protecting a country. “But, what about your family?” I countered. Just then, my body betrayed me yet again. This time, just North of my dick, as my stomach rumbled like a category 6 earthquake.
Dominique stood back holding me at arms-length. “What was that? Was that your stomach? Did you come over here hungry again?”
“Well…yeah. But what about…”
“AI DOS MIO!!!!” Dominique said. “You SILLY MAN….Get in the dining room.”
“But I…”
Again, my protests (and questions) went unanswered as my diminutive relative put her tiny hands in my back and pushed me toward the kitchen. I watched in awed silence, as Dominique flew like a whirling dervish. Cooking at a break-neck pace. Moments later, she was again pushing me into a chair at the dining room table. Coming back, her hands were full of two plates of sweet-smelling food. My eyes must have surely bugged out of my head when she set it in front of me. It was piled high with scrambled eggs, black beans, Mexican rice, cheese, fresh cut fruit and 4 links of Chorizo sausage. Accompanied by a tall glass of frothy OJ.
“Go ahead. Dig in.” She said.
“Dominique; I…”
“Eat silly man!” She insisted. “I will eat mine.” An ear to ear smile on her face.
I tentatively began to eat. Savoring the delicious, smoky, peppered taste of the food. My appetite took over. My face was buried in the best meal I had eaten in a while. When I looked up, my sister-in-law was stationary. Her face in the palm of her little hand. Her sparkling eyes watching me stuff my face. The smile replaced by a grin of satisfaction.
“Oh God…don’t look at me eat like a hog. It’s embarrassing.” I said, barely holding back a mouth full of food.
Dominique chuckled sweetly. “I’m sorry. I just love watching a grown man eat. It makes me feel like a woman. Almost complete.”
“OK…fine. As long as you eat too. I hate eating alone.”
“Speaking of,” Dominique said as she spread her napkin in her lap. “Why do you always come here hungry? No woman should have her man walking around on an empty stomach. Where is your woman?”
I swallowed a mouthful of food on that one. “I’d rather not talk about that if it’s ok with you.”
“Why? You two having trouble? I can’t remember her name. What was it? Rhonna, Ramada, Ronshieka…”
“Rhonda.” I sighed. Slamming home another forkful of food.
“Yeah…Rhonda. I never liked her for you. What happened to her?”
I gripped the fork hard enough to blanche my knuckles. This was not a subject I really wanted to touch. I had wasted 4 years of my life and the last 2 of my Naval career in making her happy. Only for her to turn on me with some other dude’s dick in her mouth…or anywhere else.
“She’s gone. I found she was not worth the trouble. She’s somebody else’s problem now.”
“She was too….what do you call it? Sneaky. Yeah, that’s it. She was sneaky. A bigger whore than me.” Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. Dominique shot out of her chair and walked to the back porch. Looking at her dissolved some of my ire. I wasn’t sure exactly what I had done to irritate her so much. Or maybe it wasn’t me. But whatever it was, had made a serious mark on an already fragile woman. Wait a minute….
I strode to the back porch where Dominique sat with her feet pulled up in the chair. Her tears were silent, but they fell none the less.
“D…what did you mean by a bigger whore than you?”
Through tear stained eyes, my sister-in-law looked at me in the face. “Franky…was she cheating on you?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t answer…”
Dominique pushed past me back into the house. My patience was wearing thin at this point. As much as I loved my sister-in-law for the love of my brother, I was coming up with more questions than answers. And the frustration was getting to the point where I might not be able to control it.
She returned a few moments later. Her face that of abject pain. “Here.” She said. Shoving something in my palm. Turning it over, I found she had handed me Bruce’s cell phone. Touching the screen, I was greeted with a picture of my brother and his wife on their wedding day.
“Password is Grunt2000.”
Putting in the password, the next screen was his phone’s text messages. The thread read “ PFC Toote.”
“OK…I’m sure he has plenty of phone numbers for his…”
“Look at the phone number Franky.”
“662-75…Oh God.”
I didn’t need to finish the number. I knew it by heart. I had paid the bill for it and called it so many times, it wasn’t necessary. But my mind just couldn’t grasp the truth.
“D…maybe they…”
“Just scroll up Franky.”
I shouldn’t have. My very soul told me not too. My heart told me not too. Everything in my life told me not to scroll any further. The line from an old movie ran like a bullet through my brain. “If you dig up the past…all you get is dirty.” I scrolled anyway.
While several words in the texts caught my attention, like: “Sexy,” “Lame,” and “Meet;” it was the eventual series of pictures that stopped me in my tracks. Slide after slide of my ex-girlfriend sharing nude and semi-nude shots of her in all kinds of bathrooms I recognized. From her work, her parent’s house, and even my house; where the disrespectful trollop was trying to seduce my brother. With the pussy that was supposed to be mine.
“She was a whore. They both were. You deserve so much better Franky. You are a good man.”
“You spoke of being a whore yourself earlier. What did you mean by that?” I asked.
My eyes met hers in space. The air between us thick with the secrets of our lives and loves. “Bruce never told you about me?”
“Obviously not. What should Bruce have told me?”
“Why I have no family. Why he married me. Where I come from. Franky…I was a whore.”
I could do nothing more than shake my head. The day was just coming at me too fast. Too many things were weighing my heart down. I was on the verge of tears. But not now. I told myself. March the last mile. Grabbing the chair across from my sister-in-law, I settled in for the worst.
“My mother was born in Columbia. A small little dirt farm outside of Medellin. Her parents were poor coca farmers that worked for the cartels. Selling their crops for pennies just to survive. When my mother was a teenager, she thought she had fallen in love with one of the couriers for the cartel baron. He would bring her little trinkets, gifts, flowers. You know…little stuff to impress her. Eventually, she started running out with him. He would take her shopping. Give her money for her parents. Take her to get clothes. Go to eat at nice restaurants in the city. Things my mother never imagined doing.
Then one night, she ran away with him to a party in the hills. A big mansion that was owned by the baron. There were all kinds of people there. Drinking, dancing, having a good time. For the first time in her life, she had some of the best alcohol at her fingertips. Before she knew what was happening, she passed out. When she came to, they had taken her to another farm. Somewhere she didn’t know. Along with a bunch of other girls. Over the next few days, weeks, she couldn’t remember, they broke her. Beatings, rape, torture, drugs. They made her into a sex slave. She worked in Medellin for a couple years until they grew tired of her. One day her people made her take a trip to Mexico with a courier on a drug run. She was given to them as a gift. So, she went to work in Mexico. Eventually, a black guy came from America for a connect. He wanted her, he got her. That’s why I’m so negra. The stupid Doctor they took her to for sterilization fucked up. He didn’t do the job right and she had me.
My mother worked as hard as she could to protect me from that part of her life. She did all kinds of things I can only imagine to protect me. But I grew up and one of the guys wanted me. My mother fought them off for me. For God’s sake I was still in high school. The next day, she disappeared. I never saw her again. I had to eat. So, I ran with a bunch of street kids for a while. Until I met one of the guys my mother worked for. He told me he knew where she was. He might have, he might not. But I fell into the same trap she did. I was drugged and raped before I was set up at a bar in Tijuana. That’s where I met your brother. At first, he didn’t want to get with me like that. He was kind. Just paying for me to sit and drink with him. But when he left, I was still expected to work. But because I’m so negra, I couldn’t pull in a lot of money. Alejandro, he was my pimp, beat me half to death for not bringing in my share. When your brother came back to see me, I was laid up. My friend told him where I was (for a fee). He came to see me. He paid the nurse where I was staying to take care of me with the best drugs available.
Before I was finished healing, he paid the nurse to contact a ‘coyote’ to ferry me across the border. She gave me a bottle of pills for pain and told me to head out with her brother who was a guide. For 2 days, we hid out in the desert, dodging Alejandro’s men looking for us. I was so hopped up on drugs I can barely remember anything from that time. The next thing I knew, we were across the border and I met up with your brother at a McDonald’s of all places. He hid me out at his place on base for a couple of days till he could get me some papers. I asked him “why would you do this for a whore?!” He said…he loved me. And I guess he did…at first. But when I found out about this…I just didn’t know anymore.”
By now, my eyes were tearing over. This was too much. I couldn’t hold the pain in anymore. The man I thought I knew was a fraud. A myth of my own imagining.
“So, how did you find out about this? HUH?! You loooove me so much, why didn’t you tell me about Rhonda and Bruce?!!!”
“Because he made me promise not to!!!” Dominique cried. “He promised he never did anything with her! He said, they met up only once. But once he got there with her…he just couldn’t. Not because of me. But because of YOU!!! He loved you MORE than me! He didn’t fuck Rhonda because he was married! He didn’t fuck Rhonda because he didn’t want to crush YOU!!! That hurt me!! Don’t you understand?!!!” New tears ran tracks down her olive brown face. The lines of pain visible to my own water-logged eyes to see.
“I’m going home Dominique. I can’t sit here any longer.”
I left almost at a sprint from Bruce’s home. The only sound I could hear was a faint…”I’m sorr…” before I cranked the engine of my car and sped out of there. My apartment was as cold and silent as a tomb. A befitting environment for the way my soul felt. Taking a moment, I checked my email and unemployment status. A small ray of hope sparkled in my eyes when I received a notification of an impending interview with a local Community College about their IT program. But as happy as I was, I was still troubled. Tired from the revelations of the day. Too many secrets. Too many hurts. And no heroes to ease my woes. Even as my head hit the pillow, sleep was hard to come by.
The next morning. Ground Hog’s day. My feet hit the floor and I trod to my computer. In all the hub bub of the day before, I still hadn’t gone to the grocery store for coffee. Logging in, my eyes lit up at the interview invitation for that afternoon. I quickly responded an affirmative and hopped in the shower. Going through my clothes, I was so screwed. I hadn’t done laundry in a while and my best suit was wrinkled. My white shirt was almost a size too small, and my dress shoes had been languishing under a pair of dirty sneakers for months. Regardless, if I got the job, my life would change for the better. Dressing my best I ran out to my car. The car chime going off alerting me to more bad news. Even as I buckled my seat belt, the alarm still rang through. I might have been ok with the “check engine” light shining. Instead, I got it’s nasty cousin. “Bingo” fuel. Turning off the car, I stepped out and screamed. Letting the universe have my rage and anguish. Defeated, I walked back into my apartment and called the interview off. The woman (a Ms. Susan) on the other end was very sweet and understanding. “Family issues” do come up at the worst time. Thankfully, she told me if everything went ok, I could come in on Friday morning and interview then, just call her back. Thanking her, I hung up and let my head hang. Throwing a prayer to the winds.
My damned phone buzzed, rattling on the table where I laid it. Sure enough, the ID came up: “BB.” My heart wasn’t sure about answering. After yesterday, I wasn’t so sure about talking to Dominique again. But my soul won out. Thinking of the untenable position she was in. An orphan with no one to care for her. No one to call but me.
“Hello?” I answered. The strain obvious in my voice.
“Hola…I mean…Hi.” Came the soft, thin Spanish accent from the other end. “Look…I really need a big favor. And after yesterday…I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to help a whore…”
“Stop with the whore stuff.” I spat. The self-deprecation becoming tiresome to my ears. “What do you need now?”
“Uhhhh…I really need to get to the grocery store. I have run out of food to eat and would like to pick up a few things. Can you help me? Please?!”
I let a deep sigh escape my lips. Torn with my internal debate.
“I don’t have any gas D; if I can’t get some soon, we’ll be pushing the car from wherever…”
“I have money! I’ll fill your tank up for you. Promise.”
“Fine. I’ll be there soon.”
I was a jumble of nerves as I drove back to the scene of the crime. My head and heart in so many places, I didn’t even bother changing clothes. When I pulled into the driveway, my car’s gas chime was buzzing on my last nerve. Dominique came out of the house looking stunning. Save for the fact she was a widow, Dominique should wear black more often. Her long curly hair was pulled up in a ponytail, while she wore a nice crisp white blouse and a thin, pencil skirt. Tight enough to show off the amazing bump she possessed in the rear. Her eyes covered by a sensible, if daring pair of jet-black Ray Ban sunglasses. As pissed off as I may have been, she was gorgeous.
“Hi!” She beamed as she got in. “Thanks so much for doing this for me. There’s a gas station just two blocks up the road. Think we can make it?”
“I sure hope so.” I remarked. The gas chime daring us to try. The ride to the gas station was done in silence. My brain sending silent prayers to the heavens we make it. Sure enough, just as I pulled up to the pump, the engine began to whine as the last vapors of the liquid was sucked into the manifold. “Shut it off and I’ll be right back.” Dominique said as she hopped out. Instinctively, my eyes turned to look lovingly at her ass. Sure enough, I watched in awe as my sister-in-law’s strides to the building gave me an unobstructed view of her lithe body, beautifully toned legs, and rhythmic behind.
“What are you doing Franky?” I said to myself as I sat alone. “Why are you gaining feelings for a woman that once belonged to your brother, and before that, belonged to anyone with a dinero?”
I stood mute against my car. Deep in my own thoughts as the world went by without me. I was so in the clouds I didn’t hear Dominique walk beside me.
“HEY! Earth to Franky?!” She said, handing me a large coffee and an aluminum foil wrapped biscuit. “You can pump the gas now. I put $30 in. I hope that’s enough.”
“Thanks.” I said as I came back to reality. I pumped the gas mindlessly. The sounds of the gas pump gauge’s dinging the only sound in my ears. The heavy “thump” of the gas handle clicking off broke me from my reverie. $29.98 was the total on the pump. Wow. Smart woman. Getting behind the wheel, I pumped the pedal twice, then turned the key. My car’s engine came to life with a throaty rumble. Guzzling the full tank like a thirsty man that had just crossed the desert.
“Thank you.” I smiled at Dominique. My spirits lifting watching the gas hand speed toward full. “So, where to now Madam?” I asked.
“To the grocery store.” Dominique chimed. As we hit the road again, she smiled and asked; “You look nice…what’s with the suit?”
“Oh…I was supposed to have a job interview today. But I had to cancel.”
“Not for me did you?!”
“No…because I didn’t have any gas. But thanks to you…I can go tomorrow.”
“Uhhh…not to speak badly of you…but you know that suit is a little wrinkled.” Dominique replied through sips of her own coffee.
“Yeah…I know. It’s my best suit and I guess I have outgrown it a little.”
“Ok…forget the grocery store. Let’s go to the PX.”
“What?! Why?!”
“Because I’m paying for it and I can get what I need there. I still have my benefits card. Quick…turn here!”
Turning the wheel, I guided the car to a side street and then to the freeway. On the ride there, Dominique changed the radio to a Spanish station. As the song “Oye Como Va” played, she danced in the passenger seat like a little girl in a candy store. Only stopping to sing the refrain at me as I drove. I could only smile and laugh at her histrionics. It made me feel good to be paid attention to by a woman no matter who she was.
Pulling up to the PX, I parked the car and got out to walk inside. As I walked next to Dominique, she grabbed my arm and walked side-by-side with me. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. She grabbed a cart and handed it to me. “Here you go Mr. Muscles.” She said slyly. “Hope you’re ready for a workout.”
We traveled up and down the aisles in the store. Picking up all kinds of groceries and sides like we were on the old shopping game show where contestants would simply sweep the most expensive groceries into their carts, while running around to beat the clock. I noticed the light-hearted nature that Dominique possessed. No longer frowning and apprehensive. But joyous, happy and free. A true kid in a candy store. I could do nothing but smile. As in some small way, I was bringing joy to her dismal life. By the time we got to the cashier, the cart teetered and swayed from the amount of goods that we had stacked in it.
“HOLA!” Dominique beamed to the cashier.
“Ahhhh….Como Estas?” She replied. A smile flowing across her face.
The women spoke in rapid fire Spanish. Quickly losing me as I fed groceries to the belt.
“Es ese tu marido?”
My ears immediately perked up as she looked at me funny.
“Si. El es mi hombre amoroso.”
“Ohhhh….El es hermoso. Necesita un major traje. Pero el es bueno.”
“Gracias.” Dominique said. A blush coloring her cheeks as she paid the charges. I stood dumbfounded as several people around us looked at me. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and shake my head. I had no idea what they were talking about. I just knew she was happy. Dominique began speaking to the baggers as they went about gathering the groceries. Like a well-trained drill instructor, she instructed them how to divide and bag the spoils. I was highly impressed. She no doubt was married to a Marine.
As we left, she held onto my arm again. Playing the role of the married couple to a T. After loading my car down with the bags, I was preparing to get in and drive us back when she stopped me.
“Oh no….we’re not done yet.”
“But you said…”
“I’m a woman. We have the right to change our minds.” She giggled.
Grabbing my arm, we reentered the store. This time going to the clothing wears section of the building. Immediately, she guided me to the suits section.
“Wait a minute…what are we doing in here?!”
“Getting you a new suit silly man! I can’t let my “man” go on a job interview in that.”
“But…I’m not…”
“Hush!!!” Dominique demanded. Holding up two suits (one blue, one gray), she kept fussing over the look of them as she held them in front of me. Soon enough, a well-dressed woman came up and asked if we needed help.
“Yes. My husband needs a new suit for an interview and I can’t decide which one looks better on him.”
“Hmmmm….with his complexion, I think the blue looks better.” She beamed. “If that’s what you think, I have a beautiful selection of ties to go along with it!”
“Ooooo goody!” Dominique bounced.
We spent about 45 minutes looking at different suit and tie combinations. Yet my sister-in-law (ever the woman), couldn’t decide which looked better. So, I left with FOUR suits , four new shirts and EIGHT ties, including 3 bottles of cologne before we left.
Again we hauled our new finds to my by now overloaded car. I couldn’t help but smile ear to ear. Mainly because, as much fun as Dominique was having….I was enjoying her company as well.
“Oh shoot!” She proclaimed. Suddenly stopping in her tracks. “I forgot something. I gotta go back real quick.”
“What did you forget? Just let me drop these off in the car and we can go together.”
“No, that’s alright.” She replied with a new blush coursing through her cheeks. “It’s kind of a private…WOMAN’S thing. That time of the month.”
“Oh..uhh…no problem. I’ll just wait here.”
“OK.” With that, Dominique turned and headed back in the direction of the stores. Leaving me to await in the car. I engaged the ignition to power and sat patiently. Turning the station back to my regular jazz station (a perfect thing for when my anger boils over when I am stuck in traffic). The song “Love is a Losing Game” began playing. Taking me back to my time spent with Darlene, a round little thing that was my girlfriend in high school. Calling myself trying to be romantic, I nabbed a few of my old man’s tapes when I went over to her house to do the deed.
Scared and nervous as hell, we listened to my dad’s tapes while we fumbled over the line of virginity. The sex itself was almost forgettable, neither of us having too much experience even alone, of what we were doing. But the song played as I would hit her on the downstroke. Becoming a fixture in my head.
“You have a great voice.” Dominique said as she bounded into the car. Flipping her bags in the back seat. I almost jumped out of my skin when her voice broke through the memory.
“ I didn’t know you could hum so well.”
“Christ you scared me!” I said. Grabbing my chest trying not to have my heart burst through my ribcage. “When I get some money, I’m going to have to place a bell around your neck or something!”
Dominique scrunched her eyebrows and looked at me funny. “Que?”
“Never mind.” I sighed.
“Silly man.” Dominique cracked as she gave my shoulder a light slap. “You’re funny.”
Guiding the car back to the freeway, we talked about nothing in general, until I began to think; “Hey….where are we going anyway?”
“Oh…to your house. I thought we could drop your stuff off.”
“OK. Cool. Thanks for the new suits by the way.”
“Not a problem. I know you’ll get the job.”
The rest of the ride was held almost in silence as we listened to the music play on the radio. Turns out my decision was perfect as we hit a few slight patches of traffic. As we inched forward, the song “Love of a Lifetime” by the Tony Montgomery group ft. Lizette Achiveda began to play. Dominique hummed along. Her eyes closed, lost in the melody. Grasping the shifter, the feel of her hand on mine sent shockwaves through me. An electrical pulse flowed directly to my dick as her butter soft skin enveloped my fingers. I was torn. On the one hand, I fought knowing that this was still Bruce’s wife. The taboo of being so close to her racking my brain. On the other, I was so enjoying the sensation of a loving, female touch. A sensation that I had been missing for so long. Losing the fight, I simply grasped her hand. Holding it as I would a woman that held my heart. Maybe in a tiny way, this one already did.
The sound of my broken cell phone buzzed. Cutting through the fun.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hi! This is Ms. Susan. I hope that your family emergency wasn’t too bad. But I was wondering if you might still be able to attend the interview tomorrow morning?”
“Oh goodness…thank you for calling. I almost forgot about that. Yes…I was able to handle the emergency. Everything is almost back to normal. Yes…I will definitely be there in the morning. I can’t wait to see you then.”
“Ok…will 9:30 still be an ok time; or is there some other time that would be better for your schedule. I am open until noon?”
“9:30 is perfect. I can’t wait to meet you. See you in the morning Ms. Susan, and thanks again for the opportunity.”
“My pleasure. See you then.”
When I looked at my passenger, her smile was ear to ear. A look of pride.
At my apartment, I busily went about grabbing my clothes from the back of the car. With both arms full, I almost dropped everything when I saw Dominique grabbing bags of groceries.
“Wha…What are you doing D?”
“I’m helping with your groceries.” She said, her tiny hands trembling with the stuffed plastic.
My mouth hung wide open. “I didn’t, I didn’t…know…”
“Close your mouth silly man. What? You thought I was buying all this stuff for my little self? I got tired of you coming over on an empty stomach. What did you think I was buying this big ass barrel of coffee for?” She smiled.
I shook my head. Talk about a woman. None I have ever known was as sweet, kind, and thoughtful as Dominique. Was this the kind of training they give whores on the other side of the wall?
“Jesus. Real stupid thinking Franklin.”
“I’m right here you know. All that talking to yourself is bad. Give me a chance Franky…I will listen.”
“Right.” I said. Feeling completely embarrassed. I walked the two flights with Dominique to my domicile. The first woman to enter it since Rhonda left.
“Nice.” She proclaimed. “I watched a TV show once on art. I forget the style they call it when there is only a little art, but a lot of room on the canvas. What is that called again…Mini, minutia, mental…”
“Minimalist?” I corrected.
“Yeah! That’s it!!”
She wasn’t exactly wrong. AS a Navy man, I had been trained to live off the bare minimum of stuff. If it wasn’t functional or versatile, I generally didn’t bother with getting it. She moved through my apartment eyeing everything. The bare walls, the singular couch, the two separate chairs, the wall mounted TV and the desk with my computer station.
Going into the kitchen I heard her whistle loudly.
“Wow.” She said as I moved back into the living room area after dropping off my suits. “Are you SURE Bruce was your brother? Because this kitchen is so clean, you can eat off the floors!”
“Yeah…or at least that’s the lie our parents told us.” I chuckled.
Two more trips down to the car and Dominique and I spent 15 minutes of putting away the groceries. For the first time in a while, my kitchen even sounded full.
“Thank you Dominique. Really. For everything. You don’t know how much it means to me.”
She grinned like a kid with a report card full of “A’s.” Her beautiful chestnut skinned face held the question of; “Did I do good?” Walking through the empty space between us, my sister-in-law threw her body into mine. Wrapping her arms around me tight. I wanted so much to fight the feeling. The sensation of fulfillment that coursed through my tortured soul. But instead of fighting it, I simply enjoyed the contact. Reveling in the sense of love and adoration that flowed through her hug. The feeling, filling me up with a warm glow of contentedness. Dominique sighed as we touched. Nuzzling her head into my chest. The little movement causing my dick to fill with excitement. Unfortunately, her chest was at just the right height to make it impossible not to notice. “Shit!” I thought. “Not NOW!!! Why can’t you BEHAVE around this woman?!”
“Wow….thanks Dominique. I uhhh….hey, I feel hot. Give me a minute so I can change clothes.” I said, pushing her to arms-length.
“Ok…I’ll wait right here.”
Darting to my bedroom, I closed the door and leaned against it, letting a long breath escape past my lips. Looking down, I spied my one eyed, blind, veiny, monster that was throbbing in my pants. Rubbing the outside of my junk, I tried to calm him down. Afraid of letting Dominique know what my mind was thinking. “Down damn you.” I spoke silently.
Feeling my monster back off, I went about ripping off my clothes. Fortunately for me, I had other clothes available to get into. Unfortunately, they were lost under the war zone that was my unwashed laundry. It took me three sniffs of different shirts to find one that didn’t smell like I had played a full NFL game in it. The very fabric screaming with the sound of a protest. Finding a pair of semi-clean jeans, I slipped them on and tugged on my last pair of clean white socks. My shoes went on last. Opening the door, I almost ran over my height challenged relative who was outside waiting.
“AH HA!!!” She chided. “