When I’d settled down she asked the obvious question. “So he left?” “I don’t know,” I whined. “He roared off on that damn bike about an ...our ago. He’s over at Jack and Scott’s place.” “Wait, he caught you last night, but left at… ah, 3? What am I missing?” “Well,” I blushed, feeling shy about it all. Mary and I shared almost everything. Almost. “He was busy with… things.” “Things?” Mary made a fist pumping motion and I nodded. “Do tell.” I gave her the broad strokes and left my bruised ego. As she walked towards him, her long legs opened the slit up the side of her grey pencil skirt with each stride. And each step of her high heels drew attention to her sculpted calves. When she finally reached his chair, she stood over him momentarily, and he casually looked up at his wife. No friendly greeting. No warm hug. She knew just what to do in this setting. Straightening her legs, she leaned over at her waist, her skirt riding up slightly, and the fabric stretched over the curves of her. More

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