It was pretty clear what was happening, even if John couldn’t fully comprehend or accept it. But why here? Why our house? Why our bed? John’s head...was a mess, filled with dozens of competing thoughts flying around at once. He crept along the corridor, the carpet masking his steps. The sounds got clearer as he approached the bedroom door. He peered through the opening and felt the blood drain from his face: The floor was littered with clothes. John spotted Catherine’s work dress, and saw that. I got a lot of stares on the plane, too." "I'll bet you did." "Does that bother you?" "Not a bit, in fact I'm enjoying it. Does it bother you?" "Not at all, I'm a slut Michael. Your wife is a slut." "I know that and I couldn't be happier about it." Reaching behind her neck, Jeanne unfastened the halter that held her blouse in place. As she pulled her blouse down to her waist exposing her large breasts, she said, "During the last several months a number of men have played with these breasts." "I. More

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