Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 HOCC: The Coxville Book Club Meeting II (finale)
   BY Otaku-ogre
   The sun was just rising over Coxville County.  The chirping of birds
just beginning to hit their stride of activity as the giant orange ball
ascended in the east.  It was an early saturday morning.  The dew just
beginning to evaporate from the many blades of grass and the scarce
lingering shadows of the previous dusk receded with the breaking dawn as
they had every morning, for as long as any denizens of the region could
recall.  The telltale signs it was going to be yet another scorcher in the
small southern town.  Christmas was near, yet the steadily rising heat held
all the promise of summer.  To most, it was to be a typical weekend day. 
One filled with chores, frivolity and the expected hustle and bustle that
comes with day-to-day life in the south.  For a select few however, it was
to be a day (and evening) unlike any other.  One of deception, decadence,
defiance and - most of all - carnal feats and labors that would find even
the most able-bodied man and woman tried and wanting.
   ...And all of it, initiated by the hand of one person.  One woman.  A
housewife of Coxville County by the name of Mrs.  Ivana Swallows.
   It all began with four phone calls.  Ivana Swallow stood by the large
circular window of her spacious bedroom, draped in her tan colored silk
robe and looking out over the expanse of her suburb.  The beautiful morning
view of the sun was always a much enjoyed habit of hers.  One she'd just
realized - while listening to the steady buzz of her first outgoing call -
she'd neglected far too many times over the past weeks.  Her stark green
eyes scanned the distance, hills and trees, houses, marvelled at the sight
of that huge mansion overlooking city hall that they'd finally finished
building.  The warmth of the sun made her skin feel simply divine beneath
the fabric of her robe.  The heated tingle it brought to her skin gave rise
to memory of other pleasurable sensation as well.  Pleasurable and
thoroughly exhausting.  Even fully covered in her robe, Ivana Swallows
looked stunning.  Her gorgeous figure hinted from underneath the sheer
fabric, her half crossed arms making the succulent curves of her massive
breasts tease any viewer with meaty cleavage.  The buzz of the phone was
abruptly cut off by about the fourth or fifth ring.  The response from the
other phone wasn't a cordial `hello', but a high pitched and only
half-muffled squeal of;
   "Ouch!"
   Ivana couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sound.  That was about what
she'd have expected from Sammy Spitzmen, accident prone to the degree that
picking up a phone was a potential hazard.  Lord knew she loved the ginger
gym nut to pieces, but some days she wondered how someone so ditzy managed
to survive for so long.  Darwin's theory flipped onto its head is what it
was.
   "Dang it!" said Sammy, an audible clack and clutter as she struggled
either untangling or picking up the phone from wherever she'd taken it.
   "H-Hello?" came Sammy's voice.
   "Sammy, are you alive over there?"
   "Ivy?"
   "Its me, dear", said Ivana.  "Should I call 911, anything broken?"
   "No" replied Sammy.  "Just got tripped up on this stupid phone cord."
   "When are you going to get rid of that ancient thing?  You do know they
sell cordless phones now.  You don't have to keep that relic just because
you're grandmother handed it off to you."
   Some shuffling and muffled curses from the other end of the phone rose
and fell.
   "Y-Yeah, I know." said Sammy.
   "Then again, with you I'm not entirely sure it'd do much good",
confessed Ivana.
   At this, Sammy giggled, not catching the fact that Ivana was purely not
joking...or perhaps maybe she did.
   "So what's up?" asked Sammy.  "I was just about to head on over to the
Olympian.  Want to meet me there?"
   "Actually" began Ivana, "I called to ask if you were free this
afternoon."
   "This afternoon?"
   A moment of silence, the redhead gnawing at the idea.
   "I was gonna clean and make dinner for Steve tonight...whenever he gets
back from work.But aside from that, I got nothin goin."
   "Excellent.  I'm having a little get together today.  A small potluck.
Nothing grand, just the girls from our book club."
   "Really?!" squealed Sammy from her end of the phone.  The noise was so
pitched with delight that Ivana actually had to pull her head away from the
receiver for a moment.
   "Oh wow, that'd be great.  Feels like I haven't seen ya'll in ages."
   At this, Ivana agreed.  Circumstances had made their gatherings seem
spaced far more than before.  Ivy's work had held her hostage at Coxville
High to the point she'd barely seen her own husband in the previous weeks,
let alone her friends (and lesser still her enemy).
   "So I take your enthusiasm as a sign to expect you at three o'clock?"
   "You bet!" said Sammy, a half-cheered held in her tone.
   "Should I set up anything special for you?  Organic fruit, zero fat
yogurt...padding on the walls and crash helmet perhaps?"
   At this Sammy laughed.  "No, no.  I'm good Ivy.  I'll stop by the health
food store on my way back from the gym."
   "Nothing TOO healthy this time, I hope.  I think Bianca is still having
nightmares about those kale muffins you brought last time."
   "Psh!  Bianca oughta be thanking me I introduced those to her.  Those
chocolate chip cookies she brought aren't gonna make her fanny get any
smaller."
   Ivana knew that small jab to be true.  She'd heard the little nickname
students (and a number of faculty) at Coxville High -the school both she
and Bianca Blackwood worked at - had given.  3B, Big Butt Blackwood or some
such nonsense.
   "Well, for the sake of the others, let's keep it moderately healthy
today, yes?
   "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." said Sammy.
   "Excellent.  It's settled then.  I'll see you at three sharp." said
Ivana.
   "You'll see me!" replied Sammy.
   The two said their goodbyes, and ended the call.
   ...
   "Oh, I dunno Ivy..." came the hesitant cadence of Bianca Blackwood's
voice.  "I still have a mountain of papers to grade."
   "Oh work, work, work!" replied Ivy from her end of the phone.  "Taking
an afternoon to hang out with the girls won't leave your semester in chaos,
BB."
   "Said the pot to the kettle" replied Bianca.  "You've been cooped up in
your office at the school like Victor Frankenstein for weeks now.  I can
count on one hand the number of times I've seen you in the halls or the
teacher's lounge."
   "Exactly!" huffed Ivana.  "Us hard working women have been workin
ourselves to the bone.  Why not give ourselves a day off?"
   "Because the only true method of completed work is in the persistence,
not the occasional break."
   "Ah, occasional being the operative word, dear.  You're drained, I can
hear it in your voice."
   Bianca gave a light sigh.  The big blonde most definitely had been
working herself to the nub.  It was a trait that Ivana truly respected most
about her tall (extremely shapely) colleague.  She put work first and
frivolity at a very distant second.
   "You're not doing yourself or your students any good trying to power
through papers if you're brains scrambled like two eggs on sunday morning."
   Silence...Bianca was thinking it over.
   "Well..." The thick fair-haired beauty began, a yield hinted in her
sultry voice.  "It has been a minute since I have seen everyone.  Some
female camaraderie might do my low morale some good."
   "Low morale?" questioned Ivana.  "What's up?  Everything good with you
and Jeb?"
   "O-Oh yeah, things are great" said Bianca, Ivy catching the lie almost
instantly.  "Me and Jeb are great.  So are the kids.  Its just...these
papers.  They're really nothing to rave about.  As a teacher, it...it can
be a bit disheartening at times, you know?"
   "Disheartening huh?  That bad?"
   "Bad would be a generous word for most of these, Ivy.  Its like they're
not even trying half the time.  I really do wonder why I even bother some
days.  "
   "Yeesh.."
   "My one girl, Daphne, she's about the only one who shows any semblance
of enthusiasm in her work.  I'd settle for enthused if not altogether
correct."
   "What about that other kid, the one you're always riled up about?"
   Bianca knew exactly who Ivana meant.
   "Oh...yeah, him.
   Gerald Stylze was the name of Bianca's student.  Blackwood made a big
show of not uttering his name, but her body gave off a slight jolt at the
recollection of him.  Ivana could hear Bianca shift around in her seat at
the mention of the unruly student.
   "I've got his paper right in front of me now..."
   "And..." coaxed Ivana, wanting to know more.
   "His choice in subject matter is...questionable, to say the least.  But
his performance is...gawd, his performance."
   "That bad huh?" said Ivana.
   Bianca trailed off for a moment, uncertain of how to finish.
   "He's very...intense...about his stance on the matter.  Rigorous even."
   "Heh, gotta admire passion in the young ones" added Ivana.  "Well,
you've got one stellar student, and another rigorously passionate one. 
That, Mrs.  Blackwood, is a success.  You should treat yourself to a
celebration at my place for a job well done in instilling our precious
youth with solid academic tutelage."
   At this Bianca had no choice but to laugh.Ivana could come off like a
car-saleswoman when she wanted to convince someone to do something.  The
constant, at times pushy, insistence wrapped in compliments won most people
over most of the time.  And if her assertive charms didn't do the trick,
her stunning looks would invariably get the job done.
   "You pose an interesting case, Mrs.  Swallows" joked Bianca.  "Let me
finish up a few more papers and I'll see about heading down."
   Seeing was quite different from saying she'd be there,but Ivana took
that compliance as about as much a victory as to be attained with Bianca.
Truth be told,the blonde bombshell was almost about as stubborn as she was.
   "Splendid,hon.  It is a potluck, so be sure to bring a little
something."
   "Will do" replied Bianca.
   The two women spent another few moments working out the few lingering
details, and finished their conversation with - more or less - the promise
that Bianca Blackwood would be at the Swallows' residence at 3 P.M.
   "One last question before I go, Ivy." said Bianca.
   "Yes?"
   "...Sammy won't be bringing any of those god awful kale muffins, will
she?"
   ...
   "Da~" was all Anya White had to say on the matter.  "Would be joyed over
to go potluck!"
   The Russian sounded simply ecstatic on the line.  Ivy was almost taken
aback by how perky the woman sounded today.
   "Overjoyed, dear." said Ivana.
   "Chto?" replied Anya.
   "Its overjoyed, not joyed over.  I guess Bianca missed that word during
your English lessons."
   "Ah, sure sure,yes.  Overjoyed.  I would be overjoyed to go potluck."
   Ivana didn't want to be a stickler for english (that was BB's job) so
she left out the correction of going `to a' potluck in the woman's
statement.
   "Great Anya.  So glad to hear it.  Be sure that Tom doesn't try to
weasel his way into going, yes?  Strictly a girl's thing, you can assure
him he doesn't need to act as your shadow like he usually does."
   "Oh, is no problem Ivy.  Tom is out of town this weekend.  Business
trip. Just me and...him..."
   Ivy could hear the venom in the Russian wife's voice upon uttering the
word `him'.  The busty nurse knew exactly who `he' was, and by relation
knew Anya was chomping at the bit to be out of the house.
   "Ah, the joys of motherhood" said Ivana,a joking lilt to her tone
intended to (jokingly) annoy Anya.
   "STEP-mother" Anya corrected.  "Back home, children like him were
marched into the cold and left in woods."
   "Here we just give them therapists."
   "Do therapist have baseball bat and KGB training?"
   "No, I'm afraid they most often don't."
   "Then you Americans are doing it wrong."
   The two women laughed, all but guaranteeing one another that they'd see
each other that afternoon.
   "3 o'clock sound good?" asked Ivana.
   "Da.  Will be there with on-bells."
   "Bells on..."
   "Chto?"
   "With bells on, dear.  How would one show up `on' bells?"
   "Don't know...figured it was just one your strange American phrases."
   "Oh, Bianca's gonna have some serious catch-up work to do."
   ...
   The fourth and final call was by far the most difficult.  Ivana was
actually hesitant at first.  Stalling for almost an hour with pacing and
fiddling about with things in her room.  She picked out her clothes for
that day; her white sleeveless blouse - the one that best showcase the
toned curves of her shoulders and neck, her light colored skirt - that
seemed to clench and cup at her meaty curves - and went about drawing a
bath armed with her array of scented soaps and oils.  Ivana was preparing.
She went at this for some time, until finally working up the nerve to dial
in the numbers on the phone.
   One ring.
   Two rings.
   Another.
   Ivana started to wonder if anyone was home.  Her heartbeat quickened. 
This call was the most crucial to her days plan.  She needed it in order
for all that she had planned to be put in motion.  By now, the seeds she
had sown the day or so prior should have already begun to blossom.
   Another ring...
   And another...
   Ivana was starting to think her entire plot had been dashed, everything
done for nothing, when...
   "Hello..." came the voice from the other end.
   It was a low, seductive tambour.  Its lilt and cadence tickling the
senses like a starlet cooing into a lover's ear.
   "Jenny, dear?" replied Ivana, her tone just as low and luminous as the
first.
   "Ivy, honey, good to hear your voice." said Jenny Summers.  "Been a
dog's age it feels like since we've talked."
   Eight dog's ages and a life times wouldn't be nearly enough, you slut!
was what Ivana wanted to coo into the phone at the blonde haired woman.
   "Oh, I know~, been swamped with work just lately."
   "So I've heard..." replied Jenny, a faint sense of knowing at the tip of
her tongue that cause Ivana to start a little.
   "I...I'm having a potluck today."
   "Oh really?"
   "Nothing fancy, just the girls and I"
   "I see." said Jenny.
   "Wouldn't be a party without you, hon" shot Ivana.
   "Well...I'm helping Harold get some of his things ready.  Apparently he
got the idea from George that they should go on a fishing trip this
weekend."
   "Yes..." said Ivana, cautiously making it sound like she was aware, but
not too aware of the men's plans.  "I heard George say something like that
the other day.  Figured the boys not being around would give us girls a
chance to meet up.  Its been too long.  Can't even remember the last time
we all got together."
   "Last book club meeting" said Jenny flatly, not at all convinced that
Ivana could remember their last gathering.  "You must have been the busy
little beaver to not remember the last book club meeting" shot Jenny.
   Ivana could feel her grip tightening on the phone handle.  She knows,
thought Ivy.  Somehow, Jenny knew about what had happened during her town
study.  She was waving it in front of her, the bitch.  As if she hadn't
done worse.
   "Someone's gotta do it" said Ivana.  "So, we're seeing you at my place
then, right?  Three sharp.  Wouldn't be a party without you."
   "You say that enough times, and I might actually start believing you,
Ivy?"
   At this, both women laughed, but not an ounce of warmth was held in the
sounds.
   "Well, let me just see Harold off, and I'll see what I can do."
   "Sounds good."
   Ivana heart was thumping harder now.The pace and beat of one about to
get into a fight.  Despite this however, her calm tone did not waver.
   "What should I bring?" asked Jenny.
   "Just yourself and that winning smile, Jen.  I've taken care of
everything."
   "Sounds great."
   A long moment went by.  A beat that carried on for what could have been
an hour.  There was a definite tension over the phone.  The two women were
playing up politeness to the point it became almost suffocating.  When the
moment reached its choking point;
   "Alrighty then, looking forward to seein you, dear.  Don't be late."
   "Can't wait, Ivy.  See you at 3..."
   The call ended, and Ivana stood in her bathroom.  The tub steamed with
hot water, awaiting the woman's entry.  Ivana discarded her robe, allowing
the silk to slide her ample form and fall to floor.  Her body was a temple;
the perfect blend of womanly curve and honed muscle.  Any man beholding the
sight of her shedding her garment to reveal her tight, thick, rounded ass
and thighs, her full breasts, sculpted arms, shoulders and taut flat tummy,
would have been left without recourse but to pounce.  Ivana Swallows was a
sight to behold, and dipping her epic body into the steaming water was the
opening act of what was to be a day unlike any other in Coxville County. 
She was preparing herself, mentally and physically, for a final
confrontation.  All the pieces and players had been assembled, and she
would make sure everything played out the way she sought it to.
   Sitting in the tub, Ivana slowly lathered and rubbed herself down,
running through her plan again and again in her head as her hands ran to
and fro on her body.  In only a few hours time, it would all boil down to
one thing; she would prove herself the Queen of Coxville to her friends and
peers.  And, most importantly, she finally put Jenny Summers in her
rightful place...under Ivana's heel.  The mere thought of it left Ivana
unable to contain herself.  And as she wiped and scrubbed gently at her
ample body, a finger or two would periodically brush against the outer lips
of her pussy, teasing herself at the thought of what was to come.
   ...
   "Ok, so, run it by me again...how'd this happen?" asked Harold Summers
as he rounded the checkout aisle.  Both his pasty arms were crossed over
his chest, fully occupied with an assortment of boxed snacks and plastic
packages he'd lifted from his shopping cart.  Both hands were filled to the
brim with beef jerky, an amassment of candy bars, chips and about a half
dozen other roadtrip oriented goods.
   "He-he, you just want to hear the good parts again" chuckled George
Swallows, who was already standing in the grocery line and placing his own
bounty of treats flatly on the black conveyer belt.
   "Oh, come on now, don't try to spin it like I'M the one who is too eager
for the gritty details.  Heck, YOU came runnin to ME about this" rebuked
Summers as he placed the checkout counter divider down, creating a
barricade between his items and George's, and began placing them down the
shifting belt.
   "I'm just trying to get, uh...clarification, on the matter, know what I
mean?"
   Harold may has well been nudging an elbow into his friend's ribs as he
spoke, his voice low yet holding not an ounce of subtlety.  Harold wanted
to hear the story (again), straight from the horses mouth.
   "Alright, alright" said George, batting away Summer's incessant
`insistence' that he recant the tale again, blow-by-blow.
   "So last night, I'm sitting on the couch" began George.  "I'm watching
Dog do his thing, chasin down scumbags and looking like an absolute badass
doing it."
   Harold listened intently, his eyes not taking themselves off George once
as moved the last of his items from the basket to the conveyer belt.
   "When all of a sudden, from behind, I feel a hand start to creep from my
shoulder to my neck, and something small and pointed pressed against my
head."
   "Uh-huh" droned Harold, as if he hadn't heard the tale twice before now.
   "It was so sudden and quiet I jumped half outta my skin.  I was watching
Dog, you know, so where my mindset is, i've got it in my head the thing
pressed against my skull is like a taser or gun something.  And suddenly I
hear;
   "Don't move a muscle, bra!"
   "I turn, and standing there, wearin a smirk sneaky as I don't know what,
is Ivy.  Swear, the woman was a cat-burglar in another life, cuz I didn't
hear her make a sound."
   "Wouldn't be saying much Georgy" chuckled Harold, "your hearing has
always been pretty much shit."
   Hey?  You want hear the rest of the story or not?  can it with the extra
commentary."
   "Well now, pardon me good sir", said Harold, making a half-hearted
little bow as they slowly motion down the aisle.  "By all means, do
continue"
   The girl at the register - a pale and sleepy-eyed, but astounding white
beauty with curly black hair - was moving at what could have been called
(by a generous soul) as a `snail's pace'.  One couldn't exactly blame her
though.  She had started her shift at 5 AM that Saturday morning, before
the sun had even risen.  She lazily went about scanning each and every item
of the previous customers items.  It certainly didn't help matters that she
had gotten only the smallest amount of sleep last night, not leaving
company (bed) of her boyfriend until almost 3 AM.  She wanted to be cross
with him for keeping her up so late, until she recalled what they'd
actually been doing in the wee hours of the morning.
   The customer ahead of Harold and George, a slightly older man with a
balding silver pate, issued no complaint with the girl's less than speedy
pace however.  Her generous cleavage pressed inside her white ill-fitting
flannel gave him more than enough entertainment as he waited for her to
complete her task.  George and Harold made only mild comments about the old
man's blatant ogling of her round pales mounds, and only a few more about
the girl herself.
   "Anyway, as I was sayin.  Ivy's standin there, wearin this little black
number that I have NEVER seen her in before.  She's smilin like she'd just
tricked the fox outta going into the hen house."
   Harold let out a small giggle.  George was just getting to the good
part.
   "And I say; jeezus Ivy, you scared the life outta me!  And she's laughin
her ass off like we're back in high school.  And she says; Oh, I'm sorry, I
just couldn't help myself.  You're just too easy."
   "He-he, ain't that the truth" said Harold.
   "And me, I'm sittin there, trying my best bring my heartbeat down to a
simmer from the small fit she'd just given me, and I say; what on earth's
gotten into you?  She hasn't been the practical joker type
in...sheesh...forever.  Then it happens."
   "Yeah, here we go..." said Harold, eagerly rubbing his hands together in
anticipation.  They were nearing the apex of the anecdote now, and it
hadn't failed to give Harold Summers goosebumps yet."
   "She leans in, real close, towers over me almost.  She's got this
perfume on, swore it smelled like lavender and magic, And Ivy's - well,
without saying too much - you know my wife's got quite the womanly figure
on her."
   "I've noted you a being a very lucky man in that regard" chuckled
Harold.
   "So my Ivy, bein built the way she is, smellin like she was, leans in
real close.  I mean she's practically trying to smother me with her chest,
and she says-"
   "Here we go..." repeated Harold.
   "Nothin tonight...we should remedy that..."
   At this both men let out hardy chuckles openly in the line.
   "I'm tellin you Harry, the extra hours she's been putting in at the
school's straight turned her rabid.  I mean, we must have gone about
four-five times last night.  Huffin and puffin up a storm like we were kids
again.  Would'a swore it was our honeymoon."
   Harold let out a giddy chuckle at this.  "Ooooowe~, Georgey you virile
cad you!"
   By this time the girl at the register had begun on their jolly pair's
grocceries.  George's detailing of the previous night's events had been in
hearing reach of the young dark haired from around the `we should remedy
that ` remark.  She could fill in the blanks from there.  Secretly, she
found the idea of these two old geezers `huffing and puffing' revolting,
but kept such sentiments to herself.
   "I tell you buddy, NOTHING beats having at a gorgeous woman under with
the audible musings of Dog cheering you on in the background."
   "Right you are, brah!".
   The two laughed openly, while the female clerk silently rolled her eyes.
   "After it was all over, we just laid there and talked.  Hadn't dawned on
me til last night how little of that we actually get around to doin these
days."
   "Among other things..." added Harold with a smirk.
   "Truer words never spoken aloud."
   The checkout girl silently went about scanning each item.  The overheard
tale had done nothing but remind her of how much she missed her boyfriend.
It had been a whole nine hours since she'd seen him.  Assessing that much
time as having passed since she'd last gotten laid silently made her
anxious.
   "And we got around to talkin about how we - that's you and I - never
really get around to having any `MEN' time, ya know?"
   "Work has kept me cooped up for a while now" agreed Harold.  "Barely
even see Jenny and Kitty these days."
   "Yep, and you've hung out with the guys even less.  Hence, why this
fishing trip got put together."
   "Heh, pretty last minute, but hey, a trip to the lake sounds like a good
chance of scenery.  I swear, I think I was starting to see everything in
binary because of that danged computer screen."
   "This trip will do us all some serious good, Harry my boy.  The fella's
are already headin down there.  Figured we'd pick up some last minute
supplies, the essentials of course, and head on down behind them.  Two days
of uninterrupted relaxation, MAN style."
   "And how are you doin today, darlin?" said George, his eyes fixed on the
girl's stark blue eyes for the first time.
   She gave the two old geezers a cordial reply, rang them up accordingly,
and granted them a few small giggles at their bad jokes and attempts at
flirtation.  God, she couldn't wait to be off.  She silently thanked Jesus
her shift was ending in only a few minutes.  The clerk rang up their items,
gave them their total.  They paid, loaded the items into their bags, and
she promptly erected the small sign at her cash register reading `Register
Closed'.  DONE, she thought triumphantly, her shift finally ended
   "Thank you kindly darlin" said the old geezers.
   She'd managed to issue as much "have a nice--" before her voice caught
in her throat.  Her gaze had shifted over to the store's entrance.  Her
boyfriend had just walked in.  He'd said he was going to give her a ride,
and had actually shown up early for a change.  She half jumped out her skin
in excitement, her once-weary facial expression melting away in an instant
as she saw his tall muscular form saunter into the store.  She almost
trampled over the two old geezers to race down the aisle and get to her
man. George and Harold had seen the sudden shift in the girl's manner and
tone, and turned to follow her mad-dash as she bolted from around the cash
register.
   "Whoa!" said Geroge, almost colliding with the young woman as she
whizzed by the pair of them in a flash.
   The two men took a moment to admire the girl's hitherto hidden assets,
which were tucked tightly into a pair of blue jeans so form-fitting as to
give the illusion of being painting on, as opposed to being worn.
   "Man oh man" uttered Harold, admiring the girl's taut waist, rounded
hips, toned legs and thighs.  Her behind was a bit big for his taste, but
all-in-all the girl was a vision.
   "Reminds me of that one actress" chimed in George.  "You know, the one
from those stupid romance movies with the sparklin vampires."
   "Yeah..." half-agreed Harold.  "If she hit the gym with Sammy Spitzmen
six days a week".
   The two men chuckled all the way up til they saw the dark haired beauty
leap into the thick chisled arms of the 6 foot plus black youth who entered
the store at that moment.  Harold gave out a nervous cough as they watched
the young thing throw her arms around the negro's muscle strewn shoulders
and wrapped her legs around his waist, his six (or was it eight) pack abs
showing beneath the thin fabric of his white tank top shirt.  The motion of
her suddenly being hoisted in his arms caused his baggy blue jeans to sag
even lower than they had when he'd walked in, giving it the look as though
his pants were altogether about to slip to ground.  She kissed at his
cheek, temple, bald head and full dark lips with little to no consideration
for the sneer of onlookers in the store.  She was officially off the clock
after all, who cared.
   She gripped him tighter, her firm legs tightening around her dark
stallion.  The caused his pants to slip down another inch or so.  This
time, both middle aged men let out a nervous cough, as the front of the
black young man's pants slipped to reveal the front of his boxers.  The
bulge at the front of the black youth's crotch made it look like he'd
smuggled one of those giant kielbasa sausages in the front of his
pants...of the 'thick' and 'jumbo' variety.
   "A-hem!" choked George.
   "Well now..." began Harold.  "Let's uh..."
   "Yeah, let's get goin."
   Without another word, the two men headed out of the store.  They had no
choice but to pass the joyous couple as they sped walk to George's truck to
load up their things.  They caught the deep baritone of the young man
saying;
   "Damn baby, you actin like I ain't just seen you last night.  Figured
you'd be tired by now."
   and the girl's subsequent giggle of;
   "Not for you and that billy club of yours, sugar."
   Harold and George couldn't hold back the beet red blush on their faces
as they rounded the couple and got to the truck.
   "Well..." said Harold, obviously uneasy.
   "Didn't quite see that one comin" ended George.
   The two were silent loading up their goods into the car.  Harold was so
preoccupied loading his portion of the groceries, he hadn't seen the person
walking behind him.  There was a sudden collision of bodies, and Harold
found himself being bumped into the car door.  He suddenly found himself
being berated by the angry bass of another man's voice.
   "HEY!  Watch where you steppin!" boomed the voice.  Harold's heart
skipped a beat.  He hadn't seen the person he'd bumped into, bit the voice
was deep and low.  Most definitely sounded black.
   "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!  So sorry.  So, so-"
   Harold turned, his arms half raised.  He wasn't sure if they were raised
to prepare for a blow, or raised in an 'I surrender' gesture, but they were
raised.  His rapid heartbeat settled only when he saw the face belonging to
the hostile voice, along with George's laughter from the other side of the
vehicle.
   "Ha-Ha!" came the hardy laugh of Coach Black, all 6 plus feet and
two-hundred pounds of him towering above Harold like a jovial black giant.
   "How many times am I gonna get you with that one, Summers?"
   "Jeezus, Coach, you scared the wits outta me."
   "I know, THAT's whats so funny."
   Coach laughed, George laughed and in turn Harold had to let out a bit of
a chuckle as well.  Coach Black and he weren't strictly what one would call
'friends'.  Their history was...complicated...to say the least.  And while
he would have voiced grievance with the negro's prank, he voiced no
complaint.  Doing so would have started an altercation, and Harold Summers
was not one for altercations.  Besides, voicing a dislike for the large
bald black phys.ed teacher would incur questions from George.  Why don't
you and Coach Black like each other, that guys a riot, George would as. 
Harold would then be forced to give reasons as to why he and Black weren't
bosom buddies.
   He'd have to tell him about the looks he'd been giving his wife, Jenny.
The looks that Jenny - despite her not acknowledging or even knowing it -
had given him.  Harold would have to hint of there being the lingering
scent of hostility in the wake of a particular pool party which had
occurred earlier that summer.  The memory of that wasn't something Harold
was going to get into.  He wouldn't let what he saw that ruin his fishing
trip.
   "How goes it fellas!" said Coach Black.
   "It goes, Coach.  Yourself?"
   "Can't complain.  Can't complain at all."
   Coach Black was a mountain of a man.  Tall and thick with mass and
muscle.  Added to this were his masculine good looks; strong squared jaw,
shaped nose, solid cheekbones, etc.  George always compared him to that one
black actor.  "The British guy, the one on that Luther show." Referrence to
his physical prowess was always doubled when Black wore clothing like he
did on this day; a plain white (and rather ill-fitting) polo shirt, track
pants with two white stripes going down the sides, and trainers that looked
like they cost a few hundred dollars easy.  The plainer the outfit Coach
Black wore, the more his amassment of abs, biceps, shoulders and such were
showcased.  He was the envy of most men in town, despite the fact very few
ever made the foolhardy confession of saying so out loud.
   "So, where ya'll two off to?" said Coach.  "Ya'll packed up with more
snacks than truck."
   "Yeah" replied Harold, forcing his mind back to the conversation at
hand. "Me and George are heading out for the weekend."
   "Fishing, out by the lake." added George from his side of the truck.
   "Nice!" came another voice, this one also deep like Black's, but far
less aggressive.
   "Nothing like a good fishing trip to get center oneself." It was then
that Harold noticed.  Noticed the other black man standing beside Coach
Black.
   "Aw, don't you start up wit'cho Zen, Chakra, back-to-mother-earth's-womb
type shit." belted Coach at - who Harold Summers would have sworn - was an
exact clone of himself.  He had to do a double take for a moment, shook his
head the slightest bit.  I must have hit my head against the car or
something, thought Harold.  I'm seeing double.
   "Being out in all that green, water and fresh air, MAN, nothing beats
it!" This man, this double of the Coach, spoke nothing like him.  He was
boisterous, enthusiastic and - though his tone was deep in the manner
common to many blacks in Coxville - held less the harsh, ebonics-like
qualities of the others.  It reminded Harold of a camp-counselor.
   "I...I'm sorry, I...I think I might have hit my head or something.  I'm
seeing double."
   The two black men laughed the same laugh.
   "Been a minute since we heard that one, huh bro?" said the jovial black
man.  He was bald, like Coach Black.  He was tall like Coach Black.  They
were both sculpted from head to toe with beyond impressive athletic muscle.
It was only the difference of facial hair and dress style that set the two
men apart.
   "Can't say I missed it" said Coach.  "I don't think you two have met my
younger brother before."
   "B-Brother?" said both George and Harold.
   "Oh, come off it, Coach" said the clone, the title Coach carried a more
than sarcastic slant to it.
   "Younger by a measly two minutes."
   "Two years, two minutes, you still bringing up the rear."
   "Yeah, yeah, you keep tellin yourself that, bro."
   "Any-damn-way, guys, this is my TWIN brother, Richard" announced Coach.
"Rich, this is Harold Summers and George Swallows.  Local head-honchos in
town...on opposite day."
   Coach chuckled, and George even managed to let out a hardy bark of
laughter at the slight jab.  It always baffled and more than a bit annoyed
Harold, how much George and Coach got along.  George was his best friend,
had been since their youngest days in school.  Yet, whenever Coach Black
turned up, George would suddenly start acting the fool to gain Coach's
favor.  Laughing at his jokes, despite how often they were aimed at him. 
Agreeing with him, despite the fact he knew George didn't agree.  It really
ground his gears to see his best friend suck up to the over-muscled jock.
"Rich just got back in from out of town.  Hasn't been in Coxville in ages."
   "Oh yeah?" inquired George, "where you been all this time?"
   "Here and there mostly" said Rich said with a serene smile.  It was a
cagey answer, but one George simply nodded his head at.
   The brown skinned twin may have physically looked identical to his
sports-nut of a brother, but they dressed completely different from one
another.  Rich wore a rather loose fitting, V-neck shirt of some strange
breed of cloth.  Something that look closer to what one of those spiritual
yogi's would wear in some far off country to the east.  He wore baggy
tanned shorts, jeans that had been cut just beneath the knee.  His large
bare feet sat snug in brown sandles.  Around Rich's neck was adorned a
large wreath of what looked like prayer beads.  They sat loosely around the
highly defined muscles of his neck.
   "I guess here and there had an excellent gym and eating program" said
George, loading the last of his things into the truck.
   Rich laughed at this.  "The world is my gym, sir.  You can be anywhere
in the world and still get in a good workout."
   "Yeah" grunted George, "I'll keep that in mind next time I'm aching to
get some push ups in at the office."
   "My little brother here gets it in when he can.  He's ain't nearly as on
point as me, mind you, but he gets it in."
   "Must everything be a comparison with you, Coach?" said Rich.  "Some
would think all that bluster and boasting is the tell of insecurity."
   "Pfft!  Fuck outta here!" replied Coach.
   "What're ya'll up to?" asked George.
   "Us?" said Coach, "We just picking up a few thangs.  Meat for this
little barbecue that's going down today."
   "Oh yeah?" said George.  "Bit of a hot one to be throwin a barbecue,
ain't it?"
   "Maybe..." replied Coach.  "Its a favor really."
   "What's her name?" chuckled George.
   At this, Coach issued his own chuckle in confession.  "Hey, you know how
it goes G.  When a Coxville woman asks a man to provide the meat, you KNOW
he's got no choice but to oblige."
   "Ha!  Here here brother!  Get'er done brah!"
   "You know I will" said Coach, a knowing smirk etched on his face that
George didn't catch.  George turned his car key in the ignition, which
caused the vehicle to spring to life.
   "Let's hit the road, Harry!" called George to Harold, who was staring
hard at the black pair.
   Harold wanted to ask Coach something.  Wanted to demand where this
'barbecue' was being held.  Who was hosting it?  What favor?  About a half
dozen other probing and pointed questions that ran through his mind in
quick succession.  However by the time he'd worked up his voice to ask the
first-
   *BEEP BEE~EP!* blared the sound of the truck's horn.
   "Earth to Summers, we've got miles and miles to go hombre.  Let's get
moving." Harold sighed.  Black and his twin brother were already heading
into the store.
   "Peace, gentlemen!  Safe travels!" called Rich over the blare the
truck's engine.
   Harold, defeated, slumped his shoulders and wiped the thought from his
head.  He was (probably) just being paranoid.  Paranoid and out of sorts.
Lord knew he had ample reason to be suspicious but...something held him
back from pursuing confrontation.  He couldn't place his finger on what
made him not act more aggressive towards the negro coach.  It wasn't the
thought of conflict...not really.  It was something else.  Some nagging
urge that impelled to him to keep quiet on the matter, for fear of
disrupting what he'd fashioned to be a - more or less - perfect life.  The
looming 'If' of Coach and his wife hung over him, and yet Harold Summers
still shrugged it off.
   "I'm coming, hold your dang horses!" he said, throwing the last of his
items in the back of the truck and speed-stepping over the passenger side.
He hopped inside Geroge's truck and gave one final look at the store in the
faint expectation of seeing Coach Black and his brother entering the store.
Instead he saw the young couple from before.  The overly muscled black
youth in the tank-top, and the gorgeous store clerk girl with the black
hair.  They walked out of the store, hand-in-hand and with a fire in their
eyes that told Harold all he needed to know about how the young pair
planned on spending the rest of their Saturday.  The sight made Harold
Summers gulp nervously.  He was being paranoid, he knew it...and yet, he
would spend most of the drive to the lake in an uneasy silence.  Running
through every conceivable scenario in his head.
   You know how it goes the booming voice of Coach Black would
occassionally echo in Harold's head.  When a Coxville woman asks a man to
provide the meat, you KNOW he's got no choice but to oblige.
   *GULP!* 
  
Ch 6 Bookclub Meeting Finale