So it could be merely a lark, an adventure away from the hubby and kids.Or it could be she was hooked on Massimino.Or it could be I didn’t have a fu...king clue.Door Number Three.Still at the Taj, armed with this new banking info, I called Cassandra at home. Which, enraged her. Her husband had answered the landline. Quietly seething, talking through clenched teeth, she hissed, “What the fuck do you mean calling me here?”“Bank of America savings account. Cash deposits on June 7th and 22nd. Come. I couldn't hear their conversation, but I could see the Mexicans were giving her their full attention as she chattered away.Two more drinks and the guys had their hands on her. They all left the bar and headed for the back room. I could tell my wife was inebriated by the way she clung to one of the men. Her skirt had ridden up in back, exposing most of her ass to public view. There wasn't a man in the place who didn't know by now she wasn't wearing panties.I moved to another seat where I could. More

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