Having ones wife being boinked by some strange man could have that effect on just about any husband I guess. I was not a fighter, and the truth be tol... I probably knew on some level that I was getting into something quite over me head.But I was furious, I didn't care what happened to me, and I guess I thought that my righteous indignation would carry the day. Well, it didn't.I pounded up the stairs and tried the door handle to the apartment. It is a measure on my inner turmoil that it didn't. I replaced the now empty bag in the container and relocked it. I took a shower, pausing to play with myself just a little. I sighed. I needed to find someone to shower with before the cruise was over. In the meantime I rather enjoyed teasing myself just enough to stay on edge. I dried off and rolled into bed.Sometime in the middle of the next day I woke up. The room was spinning around and I was nauseous. I tried to get up. Three times I tried to get up. The last time was the charm, but I. If she had seen what I'd just brought into my room, my goose would have been cooked. I put the twelve small packets in my crystal radio box. I took the now empty carton over to Mr. Graham's trash barrel. He lived a block away from our house. I shoveled snow from his walkway and driveway every winter. He was a widower, almost eighty years old. If anyone checked his trash barrel, at his age, his reputation would only be enhanced by them finding the empty package.I called Denise at five thirty,. You walk tall, swinging your hips, enjoying the eyes on you, and absorbing their looks of desire. The voices filling the room are a wild international mix; English, French, German, Japanese, Italian, and Spanish. The accents are varied and uncountable. But moving through the room, the volume drops a fraction as you pass. People pause their loud conversations to spend a moment looking at you.All around you others are also dressed for the night; some in latex, some in leather, some in.
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