Fed by the NFL gang-1

Jamal was delighted when I called back. As usual, he had specific instructions.

“I’ve told the guys that Eve is a great dresser. Sexy skirts, nylons and heels, that sort of stuff. You know what I like, Tom.” Indeed I did. Our tastes were just alike.

“I know what to bring, Jamal. We’ve gotten a few new items since you saw us last.”

Eve had always wanted to be a model, but was much too petite. Even in six-inch heels she barely reached 5′ 6″. So instead she worked in the fashion business and collected stylish clothes. We found a common interest in sexy underwear and nylons, tight skirts and dresses, and dozens of high-heeled shoes, her trademark. We picked out items together from catalogues. Eve loved to model them for me as well as for our black male friends when we had the chance.

“Anything else, Jamal?”

“Yeah. I told the guys that Eve is a good dancer. Maybe she might dance for us, you know, like in a club? They’d appreciate it.”

My wife was a good dancer. In fact, she had learned the old fashioned art of striptease after I told her about the burlesque houses I frequented in my youth. We acquired a tape of old strip tunes for the purpose.