The receptionist ladies – owners? – hadn’t complained about what I was or wasn’t wearing so I assumed it must be alright. Still, I couldn’t ...elp but cover myself with my hands as I went in. The hand between my legs absently gathered up the hem of the slip so I could touch fingers to slit. Wet.I knew my husband was at the bar, talking with someone. Thanking them. Telling them the spot near the beach was perfect. But before turning to find him, my eyes caught on someone else.The waitress. The. “Hi, Jessica. How was your week?” Roger asked, when she answered the phone.“Not bad, work was uneventful, and the kids were better than normal,” she responded.“Would you like to come over Sunday evening? I’ll grill some salmon and we can relax by the pool,” Roger asked brightly“I think that sounds nice. Normally, Blake brings the children home Sunday night. Let me see if he can just drop them off at school, Monday,” she replied, sweetly.“I also want you to attend the next munch with me. It will. More

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