On Saturday, every time I closed my eyes brought back the vision of my wife on that hotel bed with that asshole behind her, fucking her, driving his c...ck into the woman that was the center of my world. Sleep was impossible.I started having more thoughts of inadequacy. Had I driven her into the asshole's arms? Was there something lacking in me that made her seek satisfaction elsewhere? Why would a successful, apparently happily married woman have sex with another man? I knew that we had had. I’m heading down now because I want to see how much sex I will earn with my black bob before everyone gets too drunk to satisfy me.Millwall keeps looking at my hair; I can tell because he stares at my eyes, then lifts his gaze a touch. He licks his lips, stares out of the window and drinks lager. It’s Bud, which is a surprise; I’d have expected Stella. Then I notice it’s one of those 568ml cans unique to Bud that is almost the length of my forearm. Cunning.I get out my phone and open the Grindr. “The Museum has thousands of photos. The only aboriginals I noticed were stockmen. Only one, ‘Grasshopper,’ was named. In 1963! Why doesn’t the history of the Ord River or the history of Kununurra include those who were killed or moved or resettled? It’s because we don’t exist! Not that we’re slighted. That would be OK. We’re effaced.”“Can I say something?”“No. Let me vent. Please ... The souvenir place has stuffed animals and keychains and I even saw a snow-dome! Anyway, I’ve been reading. The five-foot-ten, voluptuous and pretty-faced, decidedly gorgeous young woman with the caramel-like skin and curly black hair simply took his breath away. Lara Brown was a beauty in a league of her own. She was captain of the women’s volleyball team and also the president of the only black sorority on campus. She was the daughter of wealthy and influential parents. All the black male students on campus wanted her and James was no exception. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. He found that.