The soothing burn blunted my anger and worries. I asked Zoe why Beth was so keen on dancing right in front of Karla when she could be with the other guy."She's cover," whatever that means. "Karla has nothing under that dress." My eyes shot back down. Why underwear matters to me at this point was irrational, but for some inexplicable reason I needed to know. No underwear only made sense if you intended to have sex and did not want them in the way. Is that how Zoe worked it out?I looked down at them again. Cover became clearer since their actions were noticed by the others dancing near them. A couple guys passed them and gave the prancing gigolo a high five for fucking my wife on the dance floor. At least one person snapped photos of them on a phone.Karla was still the sandwich filling, holding onto Beth with both arms. Time sped up again and the man was fucking like Thumper on my Bambi. He had given up on keeping to the music, unless he could hear something much faster than the club. “Okay. Cuddle.”“I’m sorry, George, and you were so nice tonight, too. It’s just that the week was...”“Hey,” he said. “You don’t need to explain. Tomorrow is fine. Morning love is better. Even better, I mean.” They settled into the spoon, and he hugged her while she took the longest time to get to sleep. He had used a euphemism; this was love. She woke enough to feel him tucking the afghan around her, then dropped back into sleep. She felt much better in the morning.“Toast?” George offered when she had had her bathroom time.“Mmm, butter,” she said when she tasted it.“The chicken required it. So, we have a lot left.”“Is that check going to last out the month at this rate?” she asked.“The quarter. The last two checks are somewhere in some country’s mail system. They canceled them and put the whole amount in this one. Anyway, it’s not going to be ‘at this rate.’ I have some special expenses right now, but I’m not going to turn into a wastrel. I came back with one change of clothes, as you.
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