..” I glared at her, “What the heck do you mean, ‘pick up a guy?’ She’s your wife, married women don’t go out picking up guys!”“Maybe ...ou can explain that to her, she certainly didn’t understand me when I tried to tell her.”“What are you going to do, Dad? You have to stop her!”“I tried, Sweetie, I tried, she simply wouldn’t listen to me. She’s got her head full of some New Age feminist mumbo-jumbo about some things that a father shouldn’t be talking to his daughter about...”“You mean sex,” she. He was single, 28 and a big rugby fan (which of course I already knew.) I found myself rather liking him even though I was under no illusions about why we were now heading off to his place. We drove across the city and to a trendy new dockside development where the car was eventually parked and we got out and walked to a lift and then to what can only be described as a penthouse apartment. Lots of space, lots of bare brick walls, lots of modern stuff. Not my taste at all but no matter. Dominic. With you, I am safe to explore my fantasies and my darkest desires. And that brings me to my favorite part of our story.My phone rings and it is you. As per our game, I don’t answer and wait for you to finish your voicemail. I love hearing your voice. Your voice caresses my body as gently as I imagine your hands. But this isn’t your typical message. “Be ready by eight,” you say and hang up. It's 6:30 and I have no idea what I am getting ready for, especially since we have never met and you. Mary stood in front of Beth. Hands shaking she pulled off her vest, and started unbuttoning her blouse. Looking up Mary asked, what did I do wrong. Beth just watched silently. Stepping out of her pants, Mary hung her head, feeling ashamed standing in only her lingerie. Turning her around Beth said, look at your self. Mary looked in the mirror. Her eyes red, on the verge of tears. Why are you doing this, Mary said. What do you see, Beth asked. A middle aged mother, whos husband left her, Mary.
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