On it was a cell phone number in large enough numerals to read from this distance. I copied it down and scrambled around in the dark for my phone. She...picked up on the first ring. Before I could say hello she spoke. Her soft voice had a beautiful melodic sound to it. “Don’t say anything” she said. A silence of several seconds followed as we listened to each other’s heavy breathing. Then she spoke: That delivery truck that comes very morning at 5 15 am would be high enough and wide enough for. No public fuss. No separation. My quiet cuckoldry, going on forever. My injury was written off as a ‘lab accident.’ And my wife’s willing pussy available to them, and whoever men they and she wanted to bring in to the party. ‘It’ only took about two minutes. Ever since that moment, I’ve walked with a limp, because the muscle, nerve, and ligaments never regenerated. I had to sell the motorcycle, because I couldn’t shift or hold the bike upright with that leg. Sheila’s parties got more and more. More

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