We sat together on a beautifully upholstered banquette. I sat on the isle, because my husband is left-handed; this way we don’t bash elbows all during dinner.   All of a sudden the dining room sounds all hushed. You could have heard a woman in stockings cross-her-legs kind of quiet.  Then I saw him, the man I had made mental love with a hundred times, maybe more... who keeps count?  It is Jack walking toward me, smiling the almost smirk yet friendly smile.  (Duaneart probably has it captured in perpetuity, I must ask him.)

I look like a French model, at least in my head.  In fact it was only the second time I had braved wearing RED lipstick.  I was a siren of sexuality, my lush red lips gave him pause.  I know they did.  He smiled broadly now.  I could feel my body react.  Then I saw HER; Rebecca Broussard—a twenty-six year old former waitress and now model; his girlfriend.   She was a-no-kidding real model.  Jack stopped in front of me, eyes clearly mischievous and took her arm giving her a gentle tug to bring her to him.  The Maitre D’ fawned and escorted them to the big, ornate doors at the end of the room.  Then they disappeared inside.  It was a private birthday party for her.  Jack threw her a birthday party, and even more astounding, we were not invited.  I was crestfallen, sure some mistake had happened.

During the whole dinner we could hear laughter coming from “the room”, the party was in full swing.  Every once and awhile the doors would open and let some other gorgeous person inside, and the sound of his laughter would waft in our direction. 

 By about eleven we had finished our superb meal and still were not invited in.   I finished sulking as we made our way down the one floor to go to our room.  Once inside it became apparent the private party room was directly overhead.  I would never get any sleep!  The merriment wafted over and down into our room cruelly taunting me.  When I could stand it no longer, I walked out onto our balcony.  The night was warm, I was pleasantly drunk, when I heard Jack’s voice, “...she was gorgeous, those red lips...”.  

Mesmerized by the thought I was on his mind, I unzipped, slipped hurriedly out of my dress and stood there on the balcony wearing nothing but a black lace bra, panties and a pair of red stilettos.  I ran my tongue over my red lips. I could feel the long hair brushing against my back, and I strode back into the room and climbed on my bed, clearly an open invitation to partake in my mood.  “Honey, are you awake?”  I whispered,  “Jack is on top of me...” There was no sound except for “Z-z-z-z”... as Jack’s laughter rang through the sexually charged night air swirling around me.  It had finally happened; I was lying beneath my Jack, a dream coming true, and once again I closed my eyes as his hands slowly....