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I stopped with our drinks in my hand. It wasn’t a surprise to find her talking to a stranger. She is very happy and outgoing when she drinks, and she was laughing and blushing so I dropped our drinks off at the nearest empty table and grabbed a seat to enjoy the show for a bit. His hand was high on her thigh, and she was leaning into him, allowing him to keep it there. Whatever he was saying to her, she liked it, which made me like it. I began to get hard and was happy to be seated at a table. The waitress walked by and the stranger signaled to her, he ordered some drinks for them and quickly returned his attention back to my wife and her nylon encased thighs. This time he put his hand much higher up her thigh. He was close enough to feel the heat I was sure was coming from between her thighs. I assumed I would be here for a while, stranded at this lonely table, until she finally wondered where I was and looked around, I would go over when she waved me over. I took a few sips of my. It was too long ago. It didn’t matter anymore. “He couldn’t put down roots, but I loved him anyway.” She wrung her own rag out, thinking back on the man she was discussing. “Couldn’t resist him, really. He just made my heart do flip flops.”Agatha wondered what that feeling might be like. The only flip flops her heart had done was on her wedding night. Harry had nailed them down in her stomach. The pain had, anyway. The passion in Mirriam’s voice as she remembered this man ... this man who wouldn’t marry her ... was still fresh and deep. It was obvious that Mirriam still remembered her love for him. Agatha wondered what that was like too.“It wasn’t like that with Harry and me.” It was out of her mouth before she realized it.“I’m so sorry,” said Mirriam. It was an automatic response. But it was also an opening ... the kind of opening many women welcome, when they want to talk about something.“I don’t know what happened,” sighed Agatha.“You were young,” said Mirriam.“I just did what I.
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