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“Are you going to introduce me then?” Clive asked with a smile. I sort of blurted out, “Oh, it’s my wife.” He replied, “Well I guessed that, and does the wife have a name?” and before I could say a word she held out her hand and said, “I’m Chrissie.” Clive took it and leant forward and kissed her on the cheek before saying, “Very nice.” She didn’t even blush as she said “You aren’t so bad yourself.” Now I should point out that coming from North London, I had a lot of very good West Indian friends growing up in the 70s, but Chrissie had grown up in a small, provincial Northern town and I know for a fact she had never met or spoken to a West Indian guy before, let alone a confident half-naked one from London. Clive asked if we had been before and we both shook our heads. “How about you?” I asked. ”I come here once a month on the Caribbean party night. They hold it on the last Friday of every month; it’s mainly for white couples and women who like the occasional Black Guy. The night that sent me into spy mode was the night she went bowling, came home, and we made love. She smelled fresh and clean and when I sucked on her tit I tasted Irish Spring soap. This after supposedly spending five hours in a bowling alley and a bar that was filled with heavy smokers. No cigarette stink, no body odor, no taste of the traces that sweat would leave behind. She was like she had just come out of a shower. I fell asleep that night with a very troubled mind.The next night when I got home from work Mary Kaye had dinner on the table ready for me. She was dressed up to go out and I asked her what was up."Nothing much. Barb is having a lingerie party and I thought that I would run over and pick up a little something that might light your fire." What time are you going to be home? You know, just in case I might want you to model it for me." It should be over by ten-thirty so I should be home by eleven."I gave her a five-minute head start and then I headed for Barb's place..
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