I eyed my wife out on the floor with the guy she'd already danced with several times—good 'ole Gerald—they were practically welded together. Me? N...ne, not even one dance, and we'd been in attendance for some two hours already. They, my wife and Gerald, did seem made for each other. I planned to tell her so when we were alone. It seemed to me that I had become little more than her chauffer; oh, I'm Marvin Griswold, the hubby, though you'd never know it by the way she acted.I'd married Janine. I’d known him since I first moved to Reno, and from moment one I wanted to know him in the biblical sense. He went to the bar that I usually stopped at on my way into town, sipping whisky and winding down with his sleeves rolled up. It was rough not jumping his bones right there - he was built, with arms that could crush me easily, and a supple grace that was almost animal. The only problem was my damned power. I had pretty good control most of the time. It was just orgasms that were tricky. I. More

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