BWWM Interracial Romance 5: Love After Halftime (3 page)

“I’m not toasting to friends,” she purred, the bubbly going straight to Joe’s heads – both of them. Why else would he drink the crap? “Keep trying,” she urged, giggling at her little game.

“To great friends,” he tried, drinking alone. “To awesome friends.” He drank some more. “To… friends with benefits?”

At last she giggled, clinking his glass.

  but by then the first bottle was gone. Popping a second,

He topped them off.

“You’re getting warmer,” she said, licking those full lips as he grabbed a second bottle… hell, he grabbed two… and led her to the couch.

“It is warm in here,” he teased, nodding toward her fuzzy white jacket.

She got the hint and, teasingly, dragged it off. She wore a clingy silver blouse beneath it, spaghetti straps on her thin, bare shoulders, small, boyish breasts pressing against the silken material.

“Then again,” he said, admiring the stiff peaks of her prominent nipples. “You look like it’s Antarctica in here.”

She giggled, exaggeratedly, a hand on one of his knees and her head tipped back as he did the same to the champagne bottle, guzzling it dry before opening the second. Halfway through it, Joe decided that Brad’s idea wasn’t so bad after all.

He’d been basically celibate since divorcing Tina and, before that, between the fights and hurt feelings, the accusations and late nights, their sex life had been spotty at best, and bordering on celibacy at its worst. Either way, by the time Grace peeled off her top and bent his lips to her left breast, Joe was more than on board for the ride.

And what a ride it was. Grace was as supple as she was limber, treating him to a night of debauchery the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since his earliest days on the freshman team at Chicago State. She sucked and teased, rode and pleased, as Joe gave into her feminine wiles. He grabbed her small breasts and stroked her shaved pussy, admiring the little broken heart tattoo just above the crack of her ass as she bent over for him, moaning with pleasure as he sank deep inside and stayed there until they were both satisfied.

They slept little, and sexed nonstop, until at last he rose, late the next morning, to find his bed empty – and that wasn’t the only thing. His drawers had been raided, as had his jewelry box, his fridge and, of course, his wallet. By the time he stumbled around the house, coffee in one hand, bottle of aspirin the other, Joe figured she’d gotten away with two of his favorite watches, a handful of class rings, four gold chains, half a dozen bracelets and over a grand in cash – plus two bottles of Crystal from his stash in the fridge!

He texted and called Brad nonstop as the coffee and aspirin finally brought him back to life.

“Where did you find that little whore?” Joe growled once he finally got Brad on the phone.

“Same place I found mine,” Brad grumbled. “In the damn phone book!”

* * * * *

“Happy New Year!” Marlene said when, at last, Tina opened the front door. The late January evening was dark and frigid as she stood on the steps of her BFFs sprawling mansion in Ritzfield, one of the toniest of Chicago’s tony suburbs.

Her girlfriend chuckled and invited her in, tugging Marlene into a warm, if waifish, embrace. “A little late, huh?”

“I know, I know,” Marlene tutted, handing her a small gift bag covered in tiny hearts. “And before I forget, Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Tina laughed as they drifted through the giant, sprawling foyer into an even bigger kitchen, the high-top counter along the large glass walls festooned with appetizers for their belated holiday celebration.

“I’ll open it later,” Tina said, setting the bag down by Marlene’s purse and offering her a glass of champagne. “Like, in February!”

Marlene chuckled as she sank into a generous leather barstool, Tina sitting across from her. They had spent the last part of December, and the first weeks of January, trying to nail down a suitable time to celebrate the New Year, but between Marlene’s return to classes and Tina’s holiday blues, it had taken until the end of January to connect.

“It’s not really a Valentine’s gift,” she explained, stating the obvious. “But… it’s the only kind of gift bags the drug store had.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Tina said, sipping her champagne. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“Just all my favorite foods,” Marlene sighed, looking at the impressive spread laid out before her. There was nutty brie and frosted red grapes, sesame crackers and salted pepperoni, dark chocolate petit fours and goose liver pate. “And champagne!”

They clinked glasses, Marlene sipping the dry, elegant bubbly as the cares of the day, of the week, drifted away. She might have been friends with Joe longer, and she and Tina might have had little in common, but there was a reason they’d stayed friends after the divorce: whatever differences they might have had, Tina and Marlene understood each other.

“I know we wanted to do this sooner,” Tina said, sampling a grape, “but I just didn’t feel much like celebrating this year.”

“I know baby,” cooed Marlene. “I don’t blame you. After my mother got divorced, we didn’t put the tree up for three years.”

Tina nodded around a mouthful of brie. “I know,” she said when she had finally swallowed. “First time I haven’t put a tree up since college.”

“It’ll pass, though,” Marlene assured her. “It did for Mama.”

Tina looked back at her friend thoughtfully. “Your dad really did a number on her, huh?”

Marlene nodded emphatically. “In a lot of ways, she never got over it. And then, with the cancer, those last few years of her life…” Her voice drifted off, Tina’s warm hand providing comfort and understanding as it rested atop hers. “It just felt like she died twice, you know?”

“You know, Merl,” Tina said, squeezing her hand before reaching for her champagne flute. “Not all men are like your father.”

“That’s rich,” Marlene clucked, “coming from the recent divorcee who was too sad to put up her Christmas tree this year.”

Tina smirked, but didn’t laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” she sighed, pushing away her plate. “I know I’ve given Joe a lot of grief in the last year, but you and I both know this divorce is as much my fault as it was his.”

Marlene arched one eyebrow. “Is this diplomacy some kind of new year’s resolution or something?” she chuckled. “Because you sure were singing a different tune this time last year!”

“I know,” her friend conceded, “but… a lot can happen in a year.”

“Truth,” Marlene
agreed. “Maybe this year you’ll put up a tree and celebrate the holidays properly, right?”

“Let’s not go that far,” Tina chuckled, but her voice was humorless, as it had been for quite some time. Whatever Tina did or didn’t think about her ex-husband, one thing was clear: her life had been turned upside down.

She lived in a mansion, the one she and Joe had bought together his first year as quarterback for the Chicago Hawks, and yet it looked as sterile and unlived in as when they’d first moved in. Tina moved from the kitchen to the living room, and back again, hardly ever sleeping in her own bed upstairs despite Joe having moved out weeks before they officially filed for divorce. To say she was “unaffected” by the divorce was misleading at best… and a lie at worst.

“Are you ever going to sell this house?” Marlene asked, trying to move the discussion, and her friend’s life, in a more positive direction. “I mean, it’s been on the market for months.”

“I’ve had a few offers,” Tina said, “but… why should I move?”

“Could be the best thing for you,” Marlene insisted. “Sell this beast, take the money, move into the city and start living again.”

“What, like you?” Tina cracked, and they both winced at the sharpness of her tone. “I didn’t mean that.”

Marlene sighed. “Sure you did, and I don’t blame you. It’s true I’m ‘married to my work,’ Tina, but… can you blame me?”

“Not if you’re happy, Merl, but… are you truly happy?”

“Are any of us?”

Tina wagged a finger before reaching for a decadent petit four. “Don’t lecture me, Professor,” she teased. “And don’t answer a question with a question. I asked if
you’re
happy, not any of us.”

“I’m content,” Marlene suggested. “And I’d rather be content forever than suffer the kind of heartache my mother went through.”

Tina nodded, licking the dark chocolate off her finger. “How about you, Merl? Your Dad left you, too, you know?”

Marlene sighed. “Maybe that’s why I’m such a bitter old crone, huh Tina?”

“I never said bitter,” Tina teased, reaching for another petit four.

* * * * *

“This one’s a good girl,” Brad insisted as they made their way through the crowded college bar.

Joe couldn’t help but snort. “Oh yeah,” he chuckled, tugging his cap down tight over his brow to protect his anonymity. “Like the chick last night?”

“Hey, what was wrong with her?” Brad looked bulky in his big leather jacket, but at least it hid his famous tribal tattoos.

“You mean other than the dick she had tucked between her legs?” Joe snorted. “Or how about the girl from last week, with the pierced you-know-what?”

“Some dudes like that,” Brad grunted as he narrowly avoided knocking over a table of eggheads on his way to the corner booth.

“Not this dude,” Joe sighed. “Tonight, I’m only here for the wings.”

“Fine, whatever,” Brad said, clutching Joe’s sweater as they stood near the bar. “Just stick round long enough for me to close the deal with the Asian chick, okay?”

Joe snorted. “What are you, doing bimbo bingo or something? Last week it was a Russian chick, the week before she was Australian, I’m beginning to think you’ve got a map at home filled with little red tacks.”

Brad smiled. There was nothing Joe’s teammate loved more than talking about sex, particularly sex involving him and some new chick. While fairly chaste during the pro season, after the playoffs Brad tended to go off the rails, indulging in his every whim, fantasy and desire. Joe had avoided his buddy’s escapades while married but, now that he was a free agent, he found himself running out of excuses to steer clear of his sex-crazed friend. Then again, he could’ve said “no” if he’d wanted to. For once in his life, Joe just didn’t want to.

“There they are,” crowed Brad as he sank into a booth next to a stunning Asian beauty who couldn’t have been old enough to drink. “Pram, this is Joe and Joe, this is Pram.”

Joe sat next to a willowy auburn haired girl who looked even younger than her friend. “Hi Pram,” he said, shaking hands with Brad’s date across the table before turning to his own.

“I’m April,” she said, offering a timid hand.

“Joe,” he said before a familiar face appeared and asked if they wanted anything to drink.

“Cara?”

“Joe? Brad? What… oh no! Girls… get out of there right now!”

Pram and April laughed and giggled, but Joe knew Cara was deadly serious.

“A minute, please,” he said, standing and corralling his sister near the service bar. “What are you doing here?”

“Working,” she huffed. “Which is noble compared to what you’re doing here.”

“I’m doing a favor for Brad,” he huffed back. “Do Mom and Dad know you work at a sports bar?”

“Do they know you stalk on women half your age?”

He laughed and, face to face, she calmed down. Slightly. “I’m not stalking her, and I’m only here for the wings.”

Cara bit her lip, looking cute in her uniform of ball cap and fake baseball shirt with matching short shorts. “You get one order of wings,” she warned him, “and if I see any monkey business, I’m telling everyone in here who you are and you’ll spend the rest of the night signing autographs, not playing around with your little friend there.”

“Deal,” he said, wrapping Cara up in a hug she only returned under imminent fear of being crushed. “Now… get back to work.”

Joe returned to his seat only to find Brad and his girlfriend had left. “Where’d they go?” he asked April, sliding across from her.

“I think to the bathroom to have sex,” she said, with no trace of irony.

“Cool?” he said, wondering if perhaps Brad was secretly filming him to see his reaction.

“There’s another stall,” she said, listlessly. “If you… want to join them?”

Joe gave her a paternal look. “No, April, I don’t want to have sex with you in the bathroom, Jesus!”

“Why not?” she asked, as if she’d been insulted.

He cocked his head as Cara brought a pitcher of beer and huge basket of wings, a house specialty. “Do you… do that often?” he asked when Cara dashed off to fill another order.

She shrugged. “Not all the time, but… why?”

“Because it’s gross and you should stop that.”

“Why?”

“April,” Joe sighed, “you’re young and you’re beautiful and there are a lot of guys out there who won’t make you have sex with them in bathrooms.”

“They don’t make me,” she chuckled. “I like to.”