JOS +1 Recruits for the BNWO Pt. 01

It was Friday at last. It had been a long week so I'd been happy to head home early. I didn't see my wife Sheryl's truck outside, so I figured she was still tied up at work. I was ready to relax. I went up to our bedroom and changed into shorts, a wicking aqua colored polo, and my favorite flip-flops ready for the summer afternoon.

I had just plopped down on the couch with a lite beer to see if the Warrior's game was on when I heard the garage door open. A moment later I felt a kiss on the top of my head and turned to see my petite delight of a wife. Her job as a field biologist kept her in great shape. I was on the short side for a guy, and she came up just to my chin. Her body could have been that of a gymnast. A gymnast with a nice set of breasts and sweet ass.

She smirked, her light freckles dancing, "get up lazybones" we're going to be late."

"Late for what?"

"Dinner with our new neighbors, Maurice and Raven."

I was briefly puzzled then remembered the large house on the double lot at the end of the next court over that had sold last year. "Aren't they still doing construction on it?"

"Up, up. And put your beer away. Apparently not, they moved in today and we're welcoming them to the neighborhood. I got to talking with Raven who has a black Superduty 350 truck just like the white one you bought for me. Aside from it having every upgrade imaginable."

I got up and she shoved a bouquet at me. "You bring these, I've got the wine in here." She patted her beach bag. "C'mon, I want to make a good impression and being late won't.'

Walking there, I wished I'd insisted on changing shoes as it was hard for me to keep up in my flip-flops, so I was lagging a couple paces behind. Not that I minded being behind Sheryl, her ass looked great in the pleated skirt she was wearing and her figure was accentuated by the tie cinching her long blouse's waist. I did feel like I might be dressed too casually as we walked up the elaborate winding walkway to the huge mahogany double doors of the sprawling two-story Mediterranean style home

She grabbed the huge brass lion head door-knocker as I stood behind her and examined the fine mosaics on the entry portico's side walls. Lit by recessed spotlights, the one on the left showed a Zeus figure looking down from a plinth. It was a life-size, well seven foot tall life size figure, exquisitely muscled and holding the expected lightning bolt in an upraised arm. It departed from most classical portrayals in that the figure of Zeus was a black man and arrayed kneeling and crouching before his toga clad form were naked white men and women in poses of supplication reminiscent of a Frank Frazetta painting.

On the left wall a black Hera gazed across the entry at Zeus's supplicants with a jealous eye and a half-scowl. She sat upon a white marble throne clad in only a dashiki, her pubis hinted at in the stones between her legs, and her hair piled high but with an African flair. A Peacock of enormous size walked behind her throne. Each of her feet rested on the naked back of a kneeling white worshiper. The left on a woman's back with her upturned buttocks and Venus mons on display. The right foot was on a male figure whose buttocks were striped with lash marks, his anus gaping slightly open, and his genitals encased in an elaborate knotted rope work cocoon. I was simultaneously amazed that something so provocative would be here outside the home and amazed at the beautiful artistry of the depictions.

Then the tall double mahogany doors swung open. As I turned towards them I was embarrassed to realize that I had a noticeable erection in my shorts. I moved the flowers in front of my groin as I felt my face heat up.

The left was held by a kneeling hispanic maid and the right by a bowing butler. It was hard to tell if the butler was a very pretty nordic man or a cute woman. The uniform had subtle diversions from the classical including a slightly pinched waist and a flair over which the coat tails draped. The maid was very feminine with extremely long lashes and straight back hair tied in a ponytail that touched the floor as she knelt.

In the middle was an older, perhaps fifty-ish distinguished black man in a dark blue three-piece suit. His salt and pepper hair and silver wire rimmed glasses gave him the mein of a strict principal. His voice matched his looks, all business. "Mrs. Boyer. Mr. Boyer. If you will follow me."

He took the wine from Sheryl, frowned slightly, then said as he handed it to the butler, "Shelby. Serve this with the bread course." He took the flowers from in front of my thankfully more relaxed groin area and handed them to the maid. "Angel. Blue vase #7 on the north end side table."

The maid scurried off as the butler closed the doors behind us.