White Jack

"Alisa, I'd like you to meet White Jack," Elizabeth said, motioning for White Jack to sit down. He was technically not homeless anymore, Elizabeth having put him up in a small apartment downtown, but he could be found in the old tent city as much as he could be found in the apartment. He still bore a familiar stench and addition to cheap wine, cheap liquor, and cheap food.

"Why do they call you White Jack?" Alisa asked, furrowing her brow.

"My friend is Black Jack. Gotta tell us apart somehow," Jack grunted. Alisa felt conflicted over him. Douglas was boring and plain, but obviously loved Mira and was a good provider. This man reminded her of some of early men in Thailand, rough living and rough fucking, a roller coaster of a partner. Her brain was somewhat putoff at the stench, but her pussy was already drooling.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, White Jack."