While I gazed and gaped, he lifted her hem and tucked it into her belt, leaving her ass bare and exposed. His hands were on it, moving lower and lower, until I could see his fingers reaching under and through the gap between her legs.The music had stopped and there really wasn’t any reason they were on the small dance floor, but they just stayed there. The Painful Welt was fingering my wife from underneath in a public bar in front of me, her husband, and six others. Nerve, chutzpah, daring, boldness, and every other noun describing his intrepid and aggressive dominance of my wife were in his DNA, and he could have been their poster boy. My bride was more than willing to be his poster girl.They were ‘dancing’ to their own primal rhythm, and were still progressing when ‘last call’ came. He left her skirt tucked into her belt, exposing her ass, and started reaching to unbuckle her belt.It was then that the house lights came on, so I stood and walked up behind my wife. He finished. I want to go somewhere, anywhere," she blurted."Marily," he said tiredly, "You're free to go anywhere you like but it isn't your day for shopping, not your day for the library, and I don't know where else you would want to go. Why don't you get to know your neighbors? We've been here for two months now and you still don't know anyone to talk to."She wanted to laugh. She knew one neighbor very, very well, more than he would ever be able to believe, but she couldn't tell him that."There must be some clubs in the neighborhood for women. Where they sew or talk or read or something. Isn't there?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Marily, I want to tell you something. I have a surprise. I was going to tell you last night but... I didn't. Old man Callan is sending me to Chicago. I leave Friday and I'll be there until Wednesday of next week! How about that?" He smiled."That's wonderful, Fred. Am I going, also?" she looked across the table hopefully at him. Perhaps this would give her a few days.
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