To rid what I felt as “trash” I helped Don’s father label hogs for sale the next day after school. The very thought made me sick. Don came in that evening and as usual ignored me. All he would talk about was his board meetings. “Don, would you like to make love tonight?” I said in a sexy voice.
“The boys are out, and it has been a long time. I could slip into something sexy. Don, I really need you tonight, please?” “Becky, I have to combine wheat in the morning. Not tonight, I’m too busy.”
“Your damn farm and elected positions,” I yelled. “Don, do you not find me sexy anymore? You have no time for the boys either. What will your excuse be next year? Damn, I have to grade papers.” “Oh Becky,” Don said with a frown.
“I have a chance to be where my grandfather was at the bank and this farm is on the verge of being the top hog producing farm in the state. Please understand.” That was it. Case closed, as I fell asleep that night. I just thought to forget it. Don had a promising career and I was a successful teacher, so why worry about our cuddle life. But the next night, Debbie, Martha and Tammy were calling and talking how hot they were over this black Bobo.
I mean these were married women, with children, and crazy over some black stripper. They somehow sensed Don and I were fighting, and again asked me to come to the club this weekend. I told them I did not need to see some black guy strip to solve my problems, but when Don was too busy to have dinner which I reserved Saturday night, I again was the good wife and stayed home and graded papers.