My wife said that a guy had seduced her. I asked her who it was and she said "Mike". So I started naming every Mike that I knew to which she replied "no" to each. I asked her who it was and she replied, "Mike, this Jamaican guy that comes into the store." Well, that was the second punch to the gut. But again, I was somewhat intrigued and although I felt a little betrayed, my erection that was growing betrayed me even more. So I pressed for details.My wife said that for a few weeks, this younger black guy had been coming into the store where she worked, a small corner/deli type store where she worked alone most of the time. He was nice to her, complimented her from time to time. Well one time, a few weeks ago, he asked her if she'd ever been with a black man. She told him that she hadn't and that since she was married, she guessed it would never happen. He just laughed off her response. He pressed on she said. One day he came in with jogging pants on and said to her, "see what you do. In return, she’d take out the trash and run the vacuum now and then.But mostly, she would dance. Hour upon hour, wearing out the classic piece on Alice’s ancient turntable, and frequently in the nude. She loved the sensation of sweat flying off of her body as she followed a spin with a pirouette, and the way it glistened off her skin in the partial light. Ms. Miller told her that she’d go far, and a special guest, a pro named Susan Castle, confirmed as much in a meeting she’d never forget. But “far” for her would only be a far as Las Vegas.Her petite-yet-toned body was perfectly suited towards that city’s dozens of topless revues, as was her gung-ho attitude about sex. This particular morning, as she went from room to room with the trash bag, she considered the daring night she’d just experienced.Keeping up her hippie chick front to her parents, she told them she was going out of town to plant some flowers in a soldier’s cemetery. Where she went was a dance club halfway to Los.
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