”“I’d better go check he didn’t leave a mess,” I said over my shoulder as I headed out to the garage. I almost ran when I was out of her sig...t. I grabbed the bag off the shelf and delved into the zipper pouch inside. They weren’t there. My treasured pink panties, which I’d kept carefully hidden, were gone. I composed myself and headed back to the kitchen.“Was everything OK?” my wife asked.“He’d put my bag back in its place, and nothing else was disturbed.” I said truthfully.“He’s a bit of a. He jumps at the African American and starts throwing swings at his face. The whole house shakes with each punch.“YOU DON’T GET TO TOUCH MY FRIENDS! YOU HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST ME, YOU TAKE IT ON ME!”He goes on fisting the head of the man through the bathroom white tiles. The African American tries to raise a hand; Peter grabs it and rips the arm, throwing it across the room.“YOU TOUCH HER YOU DIE! YOU HEAR ME, YOU DIE!”The skull of the man emits a sudden crack but Peter continues punching the. Their conversations were always playful and inevitably included sexual innuendo. The husbands never seemed to mind unless they were teasingly being called out for not delivering the kind of satisfaction desired. It was that easy familiarity that eventually led to this moment. That and the unspoken awareness of something we all knew was was there.Charles was average size, probably in all ways, except for his sense of humor. He was the one who was most likely to keep our times together. Grant found her standing near the railing of the small balcony, her white nightgown whipping in the wind. Animated by the ocean breeze, Carrie’s hair seemed to dance and fly from her bare shoulders. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below the hotel prevented him from listening to her. He could read Carrie like a book. He knew when she sang she was either extremely happy or extremely sad. When she moaned she was aroused, either sexually or intellectually. And when she sighed –.