But only for the time being.What the newlyweds know and nobody else does, is that there is a special visitor harboring with the rest of their reveller...s. An inconspicuous Black man, or rather, their Black Master. It was disappointing that he never got to be part of the Groom’s Best Man train, but no matter. They have a scheduled appointment to keep that neither intends to miss.The newlyweds flee from the church after the wife hurls her bouquet of flowers over her head at her train of. I gestured to the barman for another glass of wine and as I did, he approached. Walking over he asked sweetly if he could buy that for me. Thanking him we began the masquerade of small talk that would only end in one outcome. No questions about wives or husbands, no details that could bring on the guilt that sometimes tinged these encounters. Eventually as the bar became a hive of activity I suggested we moved on somewhere less busy. He looked a little embarrassed, had I misjudged him, was he. ”Jen picks her head up off my chest to look at me and asks, “Like what.”Before I can answer, Dahlia says, “We need to start a study group like we had last year.”“You already have us cycling six days a week, and Carol has been teaching us self-defence twice a week,” complains Moira“I forgot about that. I don’t suppose you girls would mind if I took over from Carol,” I ask.Moira answers, “She is hard enough on us as it is.”“Don’t be a drama queen,” chastises Dahlia.Carol adds, “I would love to. She seemed very tired but as usual dressed impeccably, neat. She had a beautiful taste in clothes.Even at the ripe age of 44, she was stunning. She had a son who was studying abroad. I met her gave her a hug and that lasted for some moments. She was feeling dull but looking gorgeous. Her silken hair, glasses, very light pink shade on her lips, glossy vibrant fair skin tone, soft perfume, chubby at right places. Her biggest assets were those big melons crushing on my chest. I didn’t want to let.