“Sir, yes, sir,” I dutifully replied. I was not okay, and I knew it. My womanly feelings of lust were running rampant and I wanted him to simply g...ab me and kiss me or do something outlandishly bold.He stood in front of me in silence, looking straight at me, expressionless. Dammit. Why couldn’t I read his mind? The pause and the silence were killing me. Part of me said to simply turn and leave and part of me said “No, be brave and take your chance.”“Am I dismissed?” I asked.“Yes,” he replied. A. Which meant I would always come home a sweaty mess.Since I started playing sports in first grade, my mom would always have a bath drawn for me when I came home from practice. By this time in my life, I was more of a shower guy, but there was something relaxing about a bath after a rigorous workout.Almost everyday my mom would come into the bathroom to check on me. Her excuse was she was worried that I might’ve drowned. She’d use that pretense to talk about my day, bathe me and after drying me. By the time I had finished showering I felt guilty as hell. I turned slightly to face Jen.“You sure about this sweetie?” I asked.“Yes, why is something wrong?” she replied.“No, I’m just asking.” I responded, “I just don’t want us to be awkward with each other after tonight.”“Everything will be fine.” she answered.Jen leaned over me and put her mouth on mine kissing me softly. I pulled her close to me, responding to her lips with mine. She slid her tongue between my lips and reached for mine. I. “So,” I said, “where’s Arturo? That was his name, wasn’t it?”I’d never met her husband, and there was no wedding ring on Jazz’s finger.She shrugged. “He split, years ago. We were in Catalonia – or maybe it was Tuscany. A very fit young trapeze artist joined us and, long story short, they went off together.”I’d opened a bottle of Merlot, and now filled glasses for Jazz, my wife, and me. We considered the girls to be a bit too young, although when there was just us, the girls were allowed a.