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He could see Holly standing and talking quietly. The men were dark, dressed in shabby pajama-like robes.A knife flashed in one of the men's hands, and he heard one speak in heavily-accented English, "pretty woman, yes? Pretty woman. Yes. Pretty woman come with us. Yes. No fight. No fight."Gene knew Holly's stance was anything but casual. She would be ready to fight, no doubt. Gene crept forward, hid behind a car just a few meters from where the men were closing in on Holly."Yes, pretty woman. I like, yes. Gift from Allah, yes. Come, pretty woman."Gene saw the man with the knife step closer to Holly, his arm outstretched. Gene was in motion, slamming his body into the knife-wielding man, his hand wrapping around the wrist nearest the knife. Holly was a blur, the sounds of painful grunts and impacts of fists and knees. By the time Gene looked up from where he held the man on the ground, Holly was smiling down at him, the other two men motionless on their stomachs."Nicely done, Gene.. But, even though I enjoyed it tremendously, the soft kiss she’d give me when leaving troubled me. I had a perfect lover living with me. I was sexually content. I shouldn’t have needed more. Still, I couldn’t stop my attraction to Alia. She was exotic, her dark ebony skin almost silky, enchanting eyes, straight jet black hair of tight waves, and a body that matched my wife’s; slender and sensual, moving so gracefully.It became more of a problem when Sia announced she was going to Jasmin’s for a sleepover Saturday night. Alia invited me to dinner and to help handle the holy terrors.I couldn’t figure out a gentle way to dissuade Alia from seeking something more to our relationship.Saturday evening I battled with the Old Sod, trying to make the pickup respond to steering wheel input without taking time to think about it. The Ford farted its way to Alia’s house, black smoke billowing. Why the hell couldn’t I just junk the damn thing?Alia and Jasmin had a spectacular house. My eleven.
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