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the dance floor. “Come on, let’s go.”
    It was a clear invitation, and she moved away, somehow confident I would follow.
    Or maybe she wasn’t confident at all, I don’t know. But I did. I didn’t even look at my husband, to tell you the truth, not even a glance. I just stood up and followed, and before I knew it, we were dancing together, the same way he and I had danced, only it was softer,
she
was softer, her breath a combination of whiskey and Juicy Fruit against my cheek as we rocked, limbs entangled, bodies writhing.
    I don’t know how long it was before I noticed him watching. He’d moved to a table close to the floor, but he didn’t join us, although I motioned for him. Shaking his head, he waved me on, his eyes blazing hotter than I’d seen them yet. That spurred me on, and I found myself giving in to her touch, her hands small and soft but surprisingly firm as they pressed my lower back, our breasts meshing, our faces close.
    I didn’t think twice when she kissed me. I didn’t think at all. I just felt, her tongue, her teeth, the sharp intake of her breath when I responded, my own hands moving down to cup the swell of her ass. It had gone far beyond invitation now, and somehow I knew where we were going to end up. For the first time, I had no doubt, and I was right. We spent another hour, maybe two, dancing, drinking, talking over the music, all of it a slow, precious tease.
    Her name was Meg but I still didn’t know her last time by the time we all reached our hotel room, and I guess I really didn’t need to. She had me pinned to the bed within minutes, arms above my head, skirt up to my hips, her leather-clad thighs pressing mine open as she kissed me, and I forgot for a while that my husband even existed in the world. There was nothing but this hot, breathless, demanding woman, drawing things from me I didn’t even know existed.
    Where I fumbled and giggled, she was sure and serious, undressing me quickly, drinking me in with her eyes. Leather and lace, we rolled, hungry and clutching each other. I was more than a little drunk, which made things blurry. I couldn’t think, so I just let myself feel, the weight of her nakedness, the soft press of her flesh. Her breasts fascinated me, soft and round and full in my hands, her nipples dark tips that made her moan and thrash when I sucked them.
    Her fingers found me wet and open, parting the red fuzz to delve inside, her thumb strumming my clit with a slow, steady, growing pressure that left me gasping into her mouth as we kissed. Just the feel of her tongue twining with mine as her hand worked between my legs left me weak with lust. She pulled me up to straddle her face, her tongue parting me this time, her hands moving up my waist to cup my breasts, roll my nipples in her fingers as she licked me.
    I grasped the headboard, moaning softly as I rocked against her open mouth.
    Glancing back, I saw her stretched out on the bed, her fingers working between her own legs. Her dark hair was shaved except for a thin line of hair above her cleft, and her pussy lips glistened in the lamp light. The sight of her made me hungry, eager, and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw my husband and remembered him for the first time.
    He was sitting in the big chair in the corner, just watching. Well, not entirely
just
…
    he had his pants unzipped, cock in hand. But he didn’t seem disappointed in not joining us. In fact, he looked thrilled to be watching our little show, although I hadn’t considered that was what Meg and I were doing.
    “I want you, too,” I murmured in explanation as I moved, hearing her whimper as my pussy left her mouth, turning so I could lick her smooth, shaved mound. She moaned and gasped against my clit as I found hers and pressed it with my tongue. She was wetter than I could have imagined, and I played in her juices, my fingers spreading her wetness over the impossibly soft swell of her lips, drawing it inward toward the tight clutch