Uncapped

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

Bobby Broussard raised an eyebrow when he entered the apartment. Michelle was in the kitchen, making his favorite dinner. He could smell the chicken frying, could smell the zucchini and squash cooking in a mix of onion and bell pepper and garlic, could smell the dirty rice.

"Hi Sweetheart," Michelle called out.

That was another warning; Michelle never used pet names unless she wanted something. Most of the time, she addressed him as 'Bobby.' On those occasions when she was irritated with him, she called him 'Broussard.'

"Uh huh," Bobby said.

"Momma's got the girls," Michelle said, letting Bobby know something monumental was on the horizon. Dropping Samantha and Nicole off at her mother's meant she wanted Bobby's undivided attention.

"Maybe she's pregnant again?" Bobby wondered as he went to their bedroom.

He changed out of his dirty jeans and pull over shirt and pursed his lips; the hamper was full again. Unless Michelle packed clean uniforms for Samantha and Nicole with her mother, they'd have to run down to the apartment laundry room and hope that the three Latin women in the back had not claimed the entire laundry room for themselves.

Bobby suspected that the three women actually took in laundry for others, washed clothes as a way to supplement their income. He simply did not believe that the three loud, overbearing women had that much laundry to do nearly every day of the week.

"And sure as I'm standing here? They speak perfect English," Bobby muttered, checking that there was a roll of quarters on the low dresser.

Michelle and Bobby ate the meal, chattering lightly about the work day, about their children, about their finances.

"Know when we got married, didn't expect still be in this apartment ten years later, huh?" Michelle commented lightly.

"Mm-mm," Bobby agreed, gnawing the meat of his chicken bone. "But when we had that cancer..."

"We uh, our tenth, Bobby, Sweetheart, we going be celebrating ten years next month," Michelle suddenly declared.

"Uh huh, just said we been here ten years," Bobby agreed.

"One oh. Ten years. Ten years," Michelle said, nervously.

"Uh huh," Bobby said, waiting.

"And you been a good husband," Michelle said.

"'Cause you been a good wife," Bobby said.

She smiled and patted his large, calloused hand. Then she looked at the wall of the kitchen, at a small stain on the wall. The source of the stain wasn't apparent to either Bobby or Michelle. It seemed to have just appeared and no amount of scrubbing would remove it.

"And I been faithful, one hundred and one percent faithful to you whole time," Michelle suddenly blurted.

"Uh huh," Bobby said slowly. "And me too, that what you getting at."

"Know Debbie?" Michelle said.

"Debbie, Debbie, oh, that girl, one works counter with you?" Bobby guessed.

"Uh huh," Michelle said.

"One up and married that, damn what his name was, that black guy?" Bobby clarified.

"Uh huh, that her," Michelle agreed.

"Uh huh, and what 'bout her?" Bobby asked.

"I ain't never had no black guy," Michelle said.

"Makes two of us," Bobby agreed.

"Broussard, huh?" Michelle said, pursing her lips.

"So what you saying?" Bobby asked.

"Saying, been talking to Debbie, you know, just girl talk," Michelle said, again studying the stain.

"Uh huh, and?" Bobby said when she lapsed into silence.

"Since we been married, it been you and me and Samantha and then she ain't even out them diapers and then we got Nicole," Michelle said. "I mean, I ain't complaining, but man! I mean, when I'm going be able have some fun?"

"You was twenty when we married," Bobby said. "Time having fun before we get married.

"Listen, I'm, before we get our tenth? You know, before our tenth anniversary, you let me go out, Debbie's husband, he got him couple of cousins, you know, then we celebrate our tenth, man, maybe even start looking at couple houses," Michelle pleaded.

Bobby now regarded the stain on the wall. He'd been twenty four when Michelle had run into him. Literally. She had not seen the stop sign and had run right into him, t-boning his brand new truck. At the time, he had been too upset to notice the beautiful red hair, the bright green eyes, the adorable sprinkling of freckles. He had been too upset to see the 30D breasts stretching the thin tee shirt, the narrow waist that he could nearly get both hands around. He did not see the cute bubble butt bursting out of her cutoff shorts.

The frame was bent, so his insurance had no choice but to declare the truck totaled. Michelle Trahan's insurance covered the replacement cost, minus the deductible; Michelle's father covered the deductible.

Bobby went to the Trahan house to thank Mr. Frank Trahan; a cousin of Bobby's had been in a similar incident. The cousin had to take the other party to court and sue them in order to get them to pay the deductible.

"Hello," Michelle said as she stood behind the screen door. "Oh! You got you a new truck?"

"I uh, yeah, I, your daddy home?" Bobby stammered, looking at the cute young lady.

Frank shook the polite young man's hand, invited him in for coffee. Before he left, Bobby had a date with Michelle Trahan.

"Man, had run into him get a date?" Frank teased his daughter.

Now, staring at the stain, Bobby remembered they had a laundry hamper full of clothes. He abruptly got up from the table.

"Bobby, Sweetheart, what, where you going?" Michelle demanded.

"Got bunch of wash need do," Bobby said.

"But what about..." Michelle demanded.

"Michelle, need let me think 'bout this yeah," Bobby said, grabbing the bottle of laundry detergent from underneath their kitchen sink.

"What there think about?" Michelle demanded.

"Okay, I say 'aw don't worry 'bout it; you just go on 'head there' and you do it," Bobby explained.

"Uh huh?" Michelle asked.

"And you all like 'aw yeah! This good yeah, man, that Bobby, he don't know what he doing, I tell you that,'" Bobby said, grabbing the laundry hamper from the bathroom. "Man! 'Bout forgot them quarters."

"I ain't going be saying that," Michelle denied.

"You going sit there tell me you ain't never going want do that again? You going sit there tell me, you have you all kind of fun one them black guys, you just going be all right with me after that?" Bobby challenged.

"We have our tenth, we go looking at houses," Michelle bartered.

"I'm telling you, like squeezing toothpaste out the tube yeah," Bobby said, lugging the hamper to the door.

"What that mean?" Michelle demanded.

"Mean, once that toothpaste out the tube? It Ain't going back in no," Bobby said, opening the door of the apartment.

He was able to get two washing machines and separated their clothing. While the washing machines hummed, gurgled and rattled, Bobby mulled over this odd development. He did feel a flash of anger at Debbie, then realized, it wasn't Debbie's fault. Michelle surely wasn't the only woman Debbie spoke with. And Debbie wasn't the only woman that spoke with Michelle. No. The blame rested squarely on Michelle's lightly freckled shoulders.

"Wonder how she like it I do that?" Bobby mused aloud.

"Uh huh, not one bit, I bet," Bobby said.

Bobby smiled as he transferred clothes from washing machines to dryers. He fed the quarters into the machines and sat again.

Michelle wasn't in the apartment when Bobby returned with their freshly laundered, dried and folded clothing. Moments after entering the apartment, he heard the hammering of feet.

"Daddy!" Nicole called out.

"What? Who that is?" Bobby pretended the didn't recognize his daughter's voice.

"Daddy, it's me! Nicole!" his daughter insisted.

She told him about her day at school, about Kim, her very best friend, about what Mrs. Abernathy had said about her poem she'd written in class. Samantha also filled her father's ears with details about her day.

Samantha looked like her father. She had the thick brown hair, the slightly ruddy complexion, the deep brown eyes and the strong square face. To Bobby, his baby girl was beautiful.

Nicole looked a great deal like her mother; flaming red hair, bright green eyes and wide smile. Looking at pictures of Michelle and Nicole at seven and a half years of age, it was hard to tell which photograph was of whom.

Reminding them again that they had homework, no, he didn't believe that they did their homework while they were at their grandmother's house, they better get in there and do that homework right now, Bobby's heart was breaking.

Michelle might have herself fooled into thinking that stepping outside of the marriage would not affect them, but Bobby had a sinking feeling it would affect them greatly. He hoped his plan worked.

"Daddy, two point two times nine?" Samantha tried to get her father to give her the answer.

"One million fifty six," Bobby said. "What? That ain't the answer? Then better sit and write it out there."

"Nineteen point eight," Samantha announced a minute later.

"And that what I said," Bobby teased.

That night, in bed, Bobby hugged his wife. She sighed, slightly irritated but stoically allowed him to hug her.

"Okay, got me couple rules 'bout this we doing this," Bobby said.

"What? We doing what?" Michelle asked.

"Well, you say you ain't never had you no black guy," Bobby said. "And I'm sitting there thinking and I say 'Know what? I ain't never had me no black girl neither' so, you going do it, then I'm do it too."

"What?" Michelle nearly screamed.

"Yeah, know, like they say 'what's good for the goose? Good for the gander,'" Bobby said.

"So, how what, Bobby, we can't both be, now how that going work?" Michelle sputtered.

"Hope your momma like babysitting," Bobby said. "I mean, I ain't got me no date? But you do? Then I'm watch Samantha and Nicole. You ain't got no date but I do? Then you need watch them. See?"

"Huh," Michelle said.

"And uh, no ma'am, you don't be bringing nobody here," Bobby said firmly. "Hear? Don't be bringing him, whoever here."

"I'm not," Michelle said.

"Man! Glad we doing this," Bobby said. "When this going start?"

"I uh, tomorrow? I uh, Debbie and me, we going Casa Ole 'bout seven," Michelle admitted.

"Tomorrow? And I'm just now hearing 'bout this?" Bobby wanted to yell.

The next day, after a full, grueling day on the floor of the Kendricks' Engineering manufacturing plant, Bobby stopped at his mother in law's home. He did not tell Dorothy why he suddenly decided to send her and her beau, Don Porres to Casa Ole, just handed the widow and widower two crisp twenty dollar bills and told them to have fun.

Arriving home, Bobby took over the cooking duties so that Michelle could get ready for her date. He and the girls ate their dinner; Nicole and Samantha both talking about their day, and Bobby listened to the happy chatter.

"Bye," Michelle said, looking slightly frumpy in an ill-fitting dress.

"Man, you looking good yeah," Bobby said, smiling.

Ten minutes after Michelle left, Bobby decided that he and his two girls needed to go to the snow cone stand up the road from their apartment. The trio walked the few blocks, Nicole and Samantha arguing about which was the best flavor.

"Hi," an attractive African-American teenager smiled as they stepped up to the small plywood shack.

"All right, we getting three smalls, Samantha, tell her what you want," Bobby smiled.

They made their selections, then sat down at one of the picnic tables to enjoy the cold treat. A cool wind blew as dusk approached.

"Hey, know this Sunday's the last day, huh?" the African-American girl said as she cleaned up the trash some other patrons had left strewn about on an adjoining table.

"Aw!" both Samantha and Nicole whined.

"Yeah? Bobby asked, admiring how the girl's buttocks filled out her jeans.

"Uh huh," the girl said.

As if she sensed Bobby's eyes on her rear, the girl bent to retrieve a wooden spoon that had fallen to the ground. Bobby watched as the taut denim framed her luscious globes of flesh, then looked at the plump camel toe between her legs.

The young woman's large breasts stretching the tight pull over shirt also got Bobby's attention when she straightened up. With a smile, she put the trash into the large oil drum next to the plywood structure and then disappeared around the other side of the building.

Bobby shook his head; she was a beautiful young lady, with skin the color of milk chocolate, hair done in a tight looking Afro style that created a dark halo around her round face. Her nose was a small, straight one, and her large eyes were of a golden brown color.

She was approximately five four in height, which made her a little taller than Michelle.

But he was a married man, married to a beautiful red head. He was there with their two daughters. He had no business ogling a young lady, any young lady.

"So what you going do when they close?" Bobby asked when the girl came around again, dumping the few cups into the oil drum.

"Man, I don't know," the girl admitted. "I mean, my boyfriend and me, we rented this apartment in them Venice apartments there, but he just lost his job and..."

Her face darkened and she looked down the street toward the Venice apartment complex. She shook her head.

"You ain't old enough be out your momma's house, huh?" Bobby asked the employee.

"What?" she laughed, revealing beautiful white teeth against her pouting lips. "Yeah I am. I'm eighteen."

"For real?" Bobby asked.

"Uh huh. Y'all going need something else? My boss's here," she said, pointing to the Lincoln SUV that pulled up.

"What's your name?" Bobby asked, patting his pockets.

"Age," Age Smith said.

"Ah JAY? How that spelled?" Bobby asked. "Man, got something write with?"

"A. G. E," Age said. "Yeah, I know that spells 'age' but my momma says it Ah JAY."

She entered the building. A moment later, she returned with a scrap of paper and a chewed up stub of a pencil. Bobby wrote down the name and phone number of his supervisor, then handed scrap and pencil to Age.

"This my boss; I work at Kendricks," Bobby said. "Give him a call on Monday, okay?"

"Oh," Age pouted playfully, taking the scrap. "Minute there, I thought you was putting your name and number down.

"You want my name and number?" Bobby said, surprised at himself for flirting with this girl.

"Uh. YEAH," Age said, holding out scrap and pencil again.

""Bobby Broussard," Bobby said, scribbling down his number.

Samantha and Nicole continued to eat their snow cones, continued showing one another their heavily stained tongues. Neither girl noticed their father had given his cell phone number to an attractive young lady.

"Bye," Samantha, Nicole and Bobby said, dropping their paper cones into the garbage can.

"Bye. I call you later, hear?" Age smiled.

As they walked home, Bobby wondered why he had given the cute girl his phone number. He was married. He could feel the thick band of his wedding ring on the third finger of his left hand.

Michelle was home when the trio returned, their three mouths showing that they'd had snow cones. Michelle forced a smile and told Samantha and Nicole she could tell they'd had snow cones, and they'd had bubble gum flavor; both had bright blue lips.

"Man, that was quick yeah," Bobby said, looking at the dejected Michelle.

"Uh huh," Michelle said.

"What happened?" Bobby asked as Michelle told Samantha and Nicole it was bath time.

Bobby fought down the smirk as Michelle admitted that she and Debbie and Farley were standing, waiting on Farley's cousin when, of all people, her mother and her mother's boyfriend Don walked into the lobby of Casa Ole. Michelle marched to the door of the bathroom and yelled through the door that Samantha and Nicole needed to get busy in there.

"Man, so y'all went somewhere else?" Bobby asked.

"No, left on out of there," Michelle admitted. "But we going be getting together tomorrow night."

"Huh? Oh! Well then, need get your momma do some babysitting; I got me a date with Age," Bobby quickly claimed.

"Ah who?" Michelle gasped, shocked.

"Age. Yeah, man I'm glad you come to me with all this, I tell you that," Bobby smiled, walking to their bedroom. "Girls, I got come in there, I'm bringing me a belt too, hear?"

After the girls bathed, did their prayers, and settled down for bed, Michelle entered the bedroom. She shrugged out of her dress, turning her back to her husband. Bobby looked at the black bra and thong panties she had worn and felt a surge of anger. He had given her the intimate lingerie for Valentine's Day, and Michele had refused to wear it for him.

Bobby was about to mention his anger over her wearing the intimate garments to Michelle when his cell phone rang. He frowned and grabbed it off of the bedside table.

"Hey, this is Age," a musical voice greeted his 'Yeah?'

"Oh, hey, was just thinking 'bout you yeah," Bobby said, getting out of bed.

Had Michelle ever worn the bra and panty set for him, had she ever modeled the intimate garments, even as her body had begun to show the wear and tear of birthing two girls, Bobby would have not felt the betrayal as deeply. Had Michelle worn any other bra and panty set for a date with another man, a man outside of her marriage, Bobby would have had a short conversation with the beautiful Age Smith.

Bobby pulled on a pair of sweat pants and left his bedroom. He stepped out of the apartment. Sitting on the stoop, he and Age chatted.

After nearly an hour on the phone, Bobby asked Age if she was working the next evening. She told him she was working until seven o'clock, same as this evening.

"And you like Casa Ole?" Bobby asked.

"They ain't as good as Manny's," Age said. "And then we can go to that Golf-A-Rama right there."

Michelle feigned sleep when Bobby returned to bed. But her quite forceful turning over let Bobby know she was wide awake. He smiled and drifted off to sleep.

A soft but steady rain dictated that the Broussard family spend much of the day inside. After a few hours of children television shows, Bobby got out a few board games and the family played, sitting at the kitchen table.

"Man, Michelle, hope you seeing what you throwing away," Bobby thought as he saw her again glancing at the clock.

"I uh, know you said you uh, you're going to see a friend," Michelle said, after 'losing' another game of 'Clue' to Samantha. "But uh, you call my momma, see if she'll watch the girls?"

"Man! You can't call her?" Bobby asked, almost smirking in triumph.

"Need get ready," was Michelle's response.

Dorothy Trahan agreed to watch her 'favorite' granddaughters. Bobby reminded Dorothy that Samantha and Nicole were her ONLY granddaughters, which just made the fifty two year old woman giggle.

Then she grew serious and asked, "So, uh, what's going on and you don't be saying 'aw nothing, ain't nothing going on' Mr. Bobby Broussard."

"Man! Can't tell you no lies, huh?" Bobby said, checking that Samantha and Nicole were occupied, stacking the dominos on the table so that they could knock them down.

"Don't know what got into your girl no," Bobby said in a low voice. "But, somehow? She got it in her head before we celebrating our tenth anniversary? She got have her a date with some black guy."

"Huh," was Dorothy's response.

Then, after a long moment, she asked, voice almost a whisper, "And what you doing?"

"Me? I'm pretending got me a date too," he said, hating to lie to his mother in law. "See? She thinking it all right she go out and do this? Aw, but man! I tell her I'm do it too? She 'bout lose her mind."