Saturday Night with Friends

“You say you would but, believe me, I don’t think you’d want the things I would do to you.”

She had no answer for that. Her husband was in the kitchen with Carol, two corners and an alcove away. Ice was tinkling and bottles were sliding about. They were jabbering over the music.

She opened her mouth again, her lidded eyes clouded. I dropped to a knee and grabbed her leg, biting hard into the leather of her ankle boot. Close enough to smell the lotion on her bare leg. She giggled nervously.

What the hell was I doing?

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