That was it, and I didn't give a fuck if he was head of the fuckin' CIA, I'd had enough.I walked out onto the dance floor and cut in as graciously as possible. In other words, I had a fist clenched and was more than ready to deck the sonuvabitch if he didn't allow me to dance with my wife. Luckily for both of us, he handed her off to me, and I let her know in low, but no uncertain terms, that what I saw of him fondling her ass was not cool.Paula just laughed it off, and said he was just an old letch. I tried to laugh it off too, but found that the first seeds of doubt in her faithfulness and his honor had already been sown.Paula and I really had it out that night when we got home."Sweetheart, I am sick of that guy taking liberties with you on the dance floor! I don't give a rat's ass if he's head of the Goddamn CIA! That does NOT give him the right to feel up another man's wife, especially MY wife!" I said between gritted teeth."Stop being jealous, baby! He was just flirting." Paula. He edged into the room. Something prickled at the back of his neck. Now he could see the TV and the backs of two kids’ heads as they watched, quiet and attentive. William was right next to Nissa's father but the man didn’t seem aware of anything around him. His watery blue eyes never blinked.Nissa's bedroom was right by the front door; how could Mr. Spenser have come home again without William hearing anything? Then William thought hard: Had Mr. Spenser ever said anything to him? Had he ever even seen Mr. Spenser get up out of this chair? He couldn’t remember a single occasion. The prickly feeling got worse. Steeling his courage, William dared to tap Mr. Spenser on the arm. The man’s skin felt cold and hard, and his entire body rocked back and forth, as if it were a single, solid piece. William jumped. "What the fuck?" he said. The man in the chair did not respond. William touched him again and Mr. Spenser slid out of the chair, rolling onto the floor with a thud. From the front, Mr..
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