Our wives or girlfriends would join us at the tavern. My wife made sure she made the scene, drank and danced late into the night.It all started going ...ownhill the night my wife complained that she was chilly and my teammate, Tom, rushed to throw his jacket over her shoulders, blatantly brushing her breasts as he did so.It all added up - the time she spent near Tom at these gatherings, how she laughed at his jokes, how he made sure he got one slow dance with her every time we met. I decided to. “Something better,” she shifted her weight in the sand, deviously winking. The anticipation and the bitter wind were too much, so we headed back to the parking lot, maneuvering through the pot holes and billows in the sand, very careful not to get our feet wet. Walking back with high wind is always difficult. We rambled slowly up the beach protecting our faces from the harsh wind, with a sensation of liberation when we spotted the sand dunes next to the boardwalk; much easier walking. I could. More

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