“An’ Dickie boy, if you just wanna sit back and watch, I bet your boss wouldn’t mind showin’ your wife all his best moves tonight, would you, Beau?”
Blondie knew I did not like to be called Dickie in public and only did it to needle me or tease me. It’s what she called me when she was fucking black guys and wanted to play the game of taunting and humiliating the white, cuckold husband. Most black guys ate it up. I’d generally go along with game because, in truth, it did add to the excitement, but I hated being called Dickie out in public. I flashed that my horny mate had just signaled her intentions for the evening.
There was an awkward lull in the conversation as Beau and I sat there pondering Blondie’s question. Sit and watch what, exactly: his best moves on the dance floor or his best moves in bed? Knowing my sweetie’s tastes and tendencies, I’d bet the farm on both. It was a long few seconds before I finally nodded.
“Sure, why not?” said Beau, returning her steady gaze, and flashing me an uncertain smile as he opted for the more innocent interpretation. He continued, “Sure…yes…of course, Blondie… I’d love to dance with you.”
At that very moment the band down the hall struck up the old Elvis song, “Big Boss Man” and Blondie smiled brightly at Beau and cooed,
“Well now, isn’t that just so appropriate, sugar, hmm?”
With a start I realized that ‘sugah’ had been aimed at him not me. It was the first time she’d called him anything but Beau or cher. Blondie started humming the tune…moving her body to the rhythm as she gazed across the table at him. Smiling warmly, she raised her eyebrows and sang softly along with the band,
“Well, I’m gonna get me a boss man, one gonna treat me right, work me hard in the day time,”
She paused here. Then with another wink and a wicked smile, she improvised,
“An’ work me hard all night.”
“Big Boss Man, can you hear me when I call? Oh you ain’t so big, you just tall that’s all!”
“Big Boss Man, gonna work me hard tonight, oh, oh yeah, oh, oh yeah!”
As she sang the words softly, her steady, mocking gaze never left Beau’s face and he grinned back at her gamely but uncertainly.
Despite the relaxing effect of the alcohol, I was getting very uneasy with Blondie’s outrageously flirtatious behavior. After all, the guy was my manager and up until tonight, I’d considered him a prude. I knew full well that my sweetie could be quite brazen and her actions unpredictable when she drank. From the moment she’d greeted Beau at the hotel bar, there had been a mounting air of sexual tension in our little trio, and that sultry reference to being curious about what she’d heard about black men, turned the erotic atmosphere as thick as our Gulf Coast humidity.
Her question about me watching Beau show her his best moves was a glaringly obvious double entendre. Still, having no idea of just how far this might go, I told myself to let it play out. Beau certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, undeniably feeling the booze and clearly unable to keep his eyes from lingering speculatively on my sexy spouse. Who knew? He just might be receptive to a seduction. Looking like she did sitting there, Blondie would be hard for any man to resist.