The Old Flame

"Mmm, you spoilin' me tonight, motherfucker," Shanequa purred, nipping at the cajun-seasoned ribeye on her fork. Douglas just smiled.

"Well, you are eating for two," Douglas reminded her. She was just starting to show.

"That's true," Shanequa agreed. It was an enjoyable meal, and Douglas was looking forward to what came after, when a tall, fit, handsome Black man in his early 20s approached the table.

"Shanequa ..." he said, looking at her. Shanequa looked up, her eyes widening.

"J-j-jaylen?" she said. Douglas had never heard her stammer. Instantly, her cocksure demeanor faded to something akin to submissiveness. "Oh, it's so good to see you!" She got up from the table to hug him, which lasted a full moment. She invited Jaylen to sit with them.

"Jaylen was my high school beau, baby. Til he left my ass behind to go to some fuckin' Ivy League school. How's that working out for you, boo?"

"I got homesick," Jaylen said. "Transferred back down here to the university, honors college. So who's the white boy?"

"Oh .... ummm ... this is my husband, Douglas." Douglas could see Jaylen's eyes cloud with jealousy and possessiveness. He looked at Shanequa's belly.

"And he did that?" he asked, sounding wounded.

"Umm ... no," Shanequa said. "It's complicated." He grinned broadly, and something told Douglas that Shnequa and Jaylen weren't quite done.