Just Four Leather Jacket Tassels!

"Hesh up there, Brando! Don't get all het up! She may have way too many cobwebs in the attic; but she used to be hotter than a honeymoon hotel in her heyday as a lingerie model! Is that what ya' wanna' hear? There, ya happy?! Besides Inni's got some snap in her garters!" He cried.

"Once again! Inni's actually not the way ya' pronounce her friggin' name, Paul!" I responded.

"Yes, it's pronounced E-h-n-a-i!!!" His wife and I both corrected the lunk at the same time; our voices completely synchronized.

I was amazed at how Paul could imply that my wife was out of her friggin' mind right in front of me. What a blockhead.

"And she wasn't just any ol' lingerie model, Paul! She was sought after and lauded at in every major catwalk in the world once!" Elaborated Paulette.

"Without a doubt, hun! Not doubting that fact at all! She'd charge hell with a bucket o' water too! There's no slack in her rope!"

"That's why I was so drawn to her! She was so interesting when she first arrived at La Gange!" Cried Paulette.

"That's a smart woman ya' got for a wifey there, Brando!! She sure is rich enough to eat her laying hens! She got more than she can say grace over from those ol' modelin' days, am sure. Even without your huge salary! Without all your big bonuses!"

"My huge salary? My big bonuses??" I rhetorically asked, lowering my eyebrows.

"Quit ta'wkin' like she's stupid, ya' brute, She runs her own real estate business in town!" Paulette clarified.

"Don't be kiddin' mee, I know the two a'ya'll worth more than Fort Knox!" Paul challenged.

"So are you! You're a singer! Be careful how ya' ta'wk about your neighbors, beau-hunk. You're not the only one broke now!" I responded.

"Don't be thinkin' ya' tough again just 'cause ya' look a li'l like that guy in Gladiator, shiiit, Slim! Ya' can furrow your eyebrows and scowl like he does in all his movies all ya' want! You're not tough, bro'... Ya' can certainly try all ya' want to not act like a church mouse!"

"That wasn't a very nice th- -" Cried Paulette.

Paul interrupted his wife mid-sentence by shushing her, and continued. I hated when Paul was chauvinistic with Paulette, but she didn't seem to mind at all.

"Of course, ya' might have somethin' if ya' didn't blame everything that turns sour on the weather, or on how ya' was a-raisin'!" Added Paul.

"Excuse me?...A-raisin, ya' say, Paul? Would that happen ta' be Raisin Bran? Sun-made California raisins, or perhaps...A Raisin in the Sun...Paul?" I asked teasingly.

"You are a hoot! Ya'll know how me... Paul Morris was RAISED?!!" Boasted Paul, in an effort not to break down in laughter.

"How, Paul?...I'm curious... tell us all..." Paulette challenged.

"Dirt poor! Poor, boy! I ate so many damn armadillos when I was a young buck I still roll up into a ball whenever I think I hear maa's voice callin' me and ma' brothers to the dinner table!"

"Exactly how poor is that?" I stated, but Paul simply waved his large hand at me again. Shenoa giggled in her high-chair.

"Tell us more, hun!" Paulette egged him on.

"Shit, you and the wifey there over yonder claim ya' was both raised with poverty in Chicago when ya' was kids!....Ya' wanna' hear what real poor was like?? I ain't even gonna' get into why my father was gone....Me, ma' brothers and ma' maa' lived so far out in the country in east Texas the sun set between our house and town!"

"Yeah, right! Ya' a real....giant Texas clown. Am sure you and ya' br'udders were like the East Texas three stooges!" Paulette teased.

"We was super poor! Super, duper, duper poor! So poor We never knew what it was like even havin' a pet! My maa' never let us have any pets because we had no money! I had to take a tumbleweed for a pet!! Heck! Ma' brothers might as well have had a rattlesnake on a leash each for pets!" Cried Paul.

Paulette and I both giggled at the faces her husband kept makin'. His liked tellin' his stories about growin' up poor in the Lone Star State. Al'dough it was mostly a ruse to make Shenoa laugh from this point on. The way his face came to life. At that he succeeded. Shenoa was ecstatic.

"What should Burbank even say, if she could ta'wk!" Paulette answered.

"Hell, the wolf didn't even come to our door, Shenoa!...here's the kicker...there was real wolves out there where we lived too, I'll have ya' know! Real ones, like this!" Paul cried. He remained animated as he lifted his upper lips with his fingers and stuck his incisors out.

"Ugly ones!" he finished.

"Promise ya' won't stare at Eny's body? She'll probably be wearing' somethin' illegal for her li'l costume party tonight, Paul! Won't she, Brandon Slim?" Cried Paulette.

"Paulette, that's my wifey ya' ta'wkin' about....I know she's gorgeous and all but the same warning goes for you, hun!" I teased her mockingly, winking at her with a playful shove of my hips against her bum. It was a risk, I know.

"Ain't ya' go'nna miss your train there, partna'? Just take your own sweet time touchin' Paulette why don't ya'! You just keep flirtin' with her 'till the cows come home!" Paul cried, staring at me from head to toe.

I thought I noticed her flirting back with me. Shyly...blushing. Paul just scoffed.

His eyes were studying me for a bit. Paulette then walked over to the window to check on her kids in the backyard.

"I wonder why 'dey got so quiet all of the sudden," she asked with her back turned.

Under the shade of his cap, Paul's eyes were staring at me in a very different way than when he looked at her.

"Heavens to Betsy, honey Ya' can't blame Brandon for checkin' ya' out...don't ya' look just pretty as a peach! Ya' backside looks fine as cream gravy! Ya' look sweet and good enough to eat!" Cried Paul.

I noticed Paulette blushing at this. Her husband could definitely still make her blush. She was soon carefully managing to pick up some of the loose cash Paul had dropped earlier. She began neatly stacking the money back into her husband's wallet as he looked on at her admiringly.

Paul was sitting away from me with his back to me against the sunlight as he finished up eating his breakfast. He soon went onta' reading his newspaper and drinking his juice.

"Brandy's always late now that he takes 'da train. Don't 'cha Brandi?!" Paulette answered, I thought I saw her eyes driftin' away and sneakin' a peek at my crotch. She was cutely gasping playfully while wiggling and flashing her eyebrows at me. We locked eyes. Her husband was distracted.

I began to act slick myself, slyly slidin' two fingers close to the back of Paul's baseball cap. Making little horns while he wasn't looking. Paulette giggled. I was just about to imply that I rode in with her the 'udder day when....

"Brandi!...The...who in the....HELL is... is...BRANDI!?!" Paul cried, suddenly spitting out some of his orange juice.

"Brandi," Paulette declared, motioning to me behind her husband.

"What! Since when ya' givin' ol' Brandon Slim pet names, girl!!?? Ya' got some more juice there by the way...you're my wifey, Paulette Morris! Ya' wanna give your ol' man a darn coronary! Those are our vows ya' playing with as set by God!" Nervously uttered Paul.

"Why ya' gettin' paranoid again Paul! Are ya' takin' the pills the docta' prescribed ta' ya'???'" She asked, drying the little dinette table with a kitchen towel.

"Damn, maybe I shoudda' married Annie May back in Texas! At least I woulda' been able ta' sleep at night. I hear she cooked a mighty fine casserole!" Replied Paul, letting his giant shaking head fall into his cradling hands.

"Really, Paul?!" Paulette teased.

"Damn, I dunno! I trust ya', honey! I'm sorry!"

Paul kept tryin' in vain to scan his paper but ended up tossing it on 'da table in a controlled way. Paul did seem different since he was put on anti-depressants by doctor Lana Atkins down the street.

Al'dough Paul lifted an eyebrow at me again suspiciously whilst turning his head; his complexion was still rosy and his eyes still beamed with humor. It was clear he was only partially aware of what I was really thinking.

I was somewhat breathing a sigh of relief...from bein' spared any of Paul's true anger! Ya' better believe that at 6'1, two-hundred plus pounds, it was never a good idea to try and piss off a man like Paul. If he wanted to, he could probably tear the average man apart limb from limb with his bare hands.

As I understood, Paul was seeing Doctor Atkins regularly now for symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder from the war. And being that he was on medication, Paul knew his thinking wasn't clear. Everything worked in my favor.

My throat had dried up and my forehead was a li'l wet with sweat. But I really couldn't get enough of Paulette that morning. I wanted to continue flirting just despite her excitable and humorous husband. It was all so fun ribbing him. He was a lovable innocent at heart. Even the battle of Fallujah couldn't take that out of Paul.

I watched Paulette as she rubbed and patted his muscled shoulders. Her voice was unfeigned, almost babyish...and so very sexy as she soothed the savage beast in her giant cowboy.

"Settle down...all is well, sweetie" She cried gingerly, her lips mewling.

I kept on trying to have a sexy stare-down with Paulette in 'da kitchenette as I hovered. She only met me half-way. Paul extended his boot outward trying to angrily read his fresh copy La Grange Suburban Life, his eyebrows were knitted.

Their newborn was still sitting on her high-chair making cute neck poses at us. I assumed the two kids outside were ready to come back in from da' back yard because Paulette was lettin' them in.

"Easy there, little angel!" Paul cried, delicately rubbing his fingers under Shenoa's chin.

"You two clean up upstairs. Go on!" Commanded Paulette. The twins teared inside again and ran upstairs.

I couldn't take how good Paulette looked that morning for much longer. I would have to make my move. It was like this second sudden pregnancy suited her right. Made her skin glow sensually in the daylight.

I also happened to know, by chance, that Paul didn't want to be intimate his wife while she was pregnant. I often heard them arguing at night over such matters. He had a real hang-up about it.

That said, my desire was almost consuming me since that u'dder morning when we came together and I masturbated her.

"Ya' better stop it you two....whatever y'all are doing! Damn pills!!!"

"You're jealous of me, Paul? Why?? I'm fla'ddered!"

"Nah, I'm not jealous o' you! What I got to be jealous of, y'ur love handles, short stuff? If you wasn't ma' friend....and I'm considerin' that...I'd say ya' were neigh high to a random grasshopper hoppin' around out in ma' backyard! I know Paulette would never trade me in for you!"

"Well, thank you for your vote of confidence, Paul" I cried enthusiastically, checkin' my watch.

Before I left the house I ruffled the golden retriever's head between its wiggling ears. Burbank kept thumping her tail against my suit slacks.

"Bye, bye, Burbank!" I said. She barked angrily. Almost like she could sense something. But maybe I was paranoid.

We all knew Burbank would try rushing outside past the front door to whip up a storm in the street like she always did. Paulette blocked her passage holdin' the family dog back by her collar so it wouldn't run off inta' the street right behind me.

Whilst walking past her, I felt the delicate touch of Paulette's soft hand brushing against my right arm over my shirt. Her hand playfully squeezed my bicep. She cutely grabbed and held back the dog by its collar with her other arm whilst sticking' her tongue out as if Burbank was draggin' her.

"Get outta' here, ya' goin' ta' miss ya' friggin' train!" Paulette teased, flashin' me her sexy smile. Her eyes seemed to be brimmin' with so much more playfulness. Paulette kept smiling slyly at me off the corner of her mouth from 'da door frame once I was outside.

"Oh no, here he comes!" She cried, still pulling back on Burbank's collar.

I decided to look back.

"Keep on a-rilin' the wagon master ya' two....you hear...B-r-a-n-d-i! Keep it up!" Was Paul's final admonishment to me.

I will never forget Paul's face as he leaned inta' 'da window for anu'dder look at me as I crossed the street and walked for the train station in the sun. His furrowing eyebrows told me things I wasn't sure I knew.

Paulette kept looking over at me from behind him, barely holdin' back Burbank. It was risky. Paul didn't suspect anything serious quite yet but it certainly could happen any moment. He was looking out the way a hungry wolf does.

'Da pregnant-lady belly was very tiny if at all 'de're on the lovey Paulette. But it would be getting bigger every single day. I knew then I had to have her. Her female essence was just beggin' to be enjoyed.

If I didn't do it, some u'dder man might! I learned that from experience with women like Paulette. As soon as I sat down on 'da train; I slid my dark shades on and began calling off most of my late afternoon appointments.

I thought I looked pretty damn sexy that morning in my light blue silk shirt, my tie and my slicked back brown hair tied in a pony-tail. I didn't even notice any u'dder women on the train. Would revenge be mine?

She may not know it, but I had an afternoon sex date with a country star's wife! I was ready.

Chapter 1.3-

And 'dere I found myself again, about to enter the Morris house to do it. Dare I enter?

I was home early so I could have a chance. Just seein' Paul's wife that mornin', carrying her laundry, had me fantasizing all friggin' day about her sweet heart-shaped li'l ass swayin' in that dress. She was probably back from the unemployment office by now because it was raining. I was so ready for whatever came next.

Al'dough I had been plotting payback for Paul Morris for a long time and weighed out all my options it had to be done right. The pro was revenge. The con, of course, was that Paul was a very perceptive type of animal. He was far from stupid. In fact he played up the whole country white boy act all the time in order to gauge others.

When I got drunk with him, Paul knew the exact moment a fight would break loose. I'd be warned beforehand so I didn't go ahead and order any extra buffalo wings. Paul liked 'da rougher type of bar on the wrong side of the tracks, honest to Gaad...he was a li'l crazy!

He didn't mind any bad elements 'dere because Paul insisted that 'dey were still the 'good bars'. I knew for a fact he a'chally liked a good fist-fight here and 'dere. Paul liked talkin' about things like what it felt like to be knocked out for the first time. I'd just be starin' back at him in shock acting like it was normal when he talked this way.

As a young boy who hunted animals with his bru'dders...sniffing out the terrain was second nature to a guy like Paul. I have to say, he held fast to the hunting skills he honed during infancy.

When you're in the wild hunting the largest game possible as a child, you can quickly end up bein' a wild animal's lunch. So growin' up in rural East Texas Paul could certainly sense things. His instincts had to serve him. His survival had depended on them.

Then, of course, 'dere was the military. If he hadn't become a singer Paul would most likely have returned home to become a professional tracker or maybe even a bounty hunter. I had to be cautious. It went without saying that like an old shark, Paul could smell blood in the ocean; so one had to be careful while tryin' to cross him.

Please realize I had gone t'ru all the stages of grief by this time. I was, by far, a different person than before my wife's affair with him. I don't know if a better or worse version of myself. Definitely a much darker person. I knew for sure Paul didn't like it. I didn't even like it. But it was who I was.

Unconsciously Paul sensed something was coming too. He had pretty much called me the devil to my face just a week before. He had just got back from church in La Grange with the entire family when he did it.

Paul pointed his finger at my nose and told me point blank I was just as dark as the insides of a wolf, believe it or not. Paul had a way about him, you see. Maybe it came from talking in tongues at church growing up, I don't know.

All that crazy serpent-handling, waspy charismatic church stuff he was involved with in East Texas made it seem almost like he could read my thoughts. It's amazing they even had a choir at that old church of his in East Texas.

Paul never knew exactly what anybody was thinking, of course. But he had a habit of blurting out random things; regardless of whe'dder 'dey made any sense or not. Did it matter really if I went t'ru with this or not? I had nothing to lose by trying.

In villain mode now whilst looking down at Paul and Paulette's welcome doormat, I smiled. The cow-print doormat had the words "Hello...DARLIN!'" printed across it. I was wearin' my black raincoat because it had started to really pour again in La Grange. My hair was all soaked from walkin' in from the train station.

At least the crows were not 'dere to creep me out perched all over the friggin' house as usual. Maybe it was in my head but I thought I saw more crows than usual in La Grange lately, honest to Gaad...li'l creeps!

'Dere was a bad element of weirdos from the city invading the neighborhood in droves. Ghost hunters. My wife had been dolin' and leasin' out property to 'em like hot-cakes from her real estate agency. Illinois certainly had it's fair share of haunted history.

Walkin' inside, I could hear the washer and dryer quaking with purpose within 'dere tiny laundromat. I had arrived well before Paul did. I knew the children would be taking 'dere naps upstairs. On my side of things everything was timed on purpose.

I would have her cornered all to myself. Could we end up possibly screwin' around in that small, sterile, mint-painted laundry room? It was certainly better than nothin'.

Slowly, I found my way to her. Of course, she knew instinctively I was out to try somethin' that afternoon. It had to be.

Only one other person also knew about what I was thinking about doing with another man's wife, it was a bartender by the name of Nikolaus. He was the friendly barkeep at Palmer's on La Grange road, Greek like me. I told him. I also told him I learned, yet again, a basic rule of life. Hypocrisy came and went but was always 'dere.

First Paul was guilty of it. Now me. Paul was now the good guy and I was the bad guy.

Initially, Nikolaus laughed his butt off, but he later reassured me that someone like myself who was recently disappointed in a relationship that went sour, doesn't think very clearly.

And after pourin' me some red wine that afternoon he leaned inta' both his fat arms behind the bar, and said: "Sonny, I like you. Don't go doin' something crazy...you'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

He quite worriedly kept intensely looking at me in the eyes out of pity behind those bushy salt and pepper knitted eyebrows of his. It was his motto that hatred was not a useful emotion at all.

Unfortunately I was too far along in my plans to stop myself. Somebody had fucked my wife. I certainly wanted to fuck 'dere's too...pay 'em back in kind...that was alls I could think to do.

I was too angry inside. I could also no longer help myself with Paulette. Her friggin' voluptuous curves and li'l ass were calling out to me like bees to a honeysuckle. I needed to be in her warm arms soon or I would surely die.

Believe me I also knew she would play hard to get. 'Dey all do. But the lion is most handsome when looking for food. When I came to her in her tiny launderette, I sorta' snuck in 'dere to surprise her.

"What you doing! Dry your hair, Brandon!" Exclaimed Paulette, looking adorable as ever.

I decided not to say anything back to her. I just nodded with a wry little smile on my face, pushing my wet hair back with my hands.