Nevertheless, the memory of that night kept echoing through her head, details moving in and out of focus as she bustled about, making sure she had everything. Suddenly several thoughts coalesced into one; she was at least as horny and frustrated as she was tired. But it was somewhere around 0200, so there was nowhere to go even if she wanted to find a casual partner, and she was damned if she was going to booty-call Nick, let alone Craig. “No,” she thought, “this is one I'm going to have to do myself.” Then another thought presented itself, fueled by impatience, frustration, caffeine, and… well… mostly frustration. “I have a private carrel, it's 0200, and it's a long cold walk home. Why not?” Sara put her laptop bag down again, pushed the chair away from the desk as far as it would go (not far), and half-sat, half-leaned against the desk. Her right hand rose to her breast, and she cupped it through the thick sweater. No, that wasn't going to work; she pulled the sweater over her. This was exactly what she needed to hear.She took him by the hand and led him into the living room. I headed back into the kitchen and got some beers out of the fridge. I heard them talking but the sounds soon died out. As I walked back out into the living room, I thought I heard the smacking of lips.Sure enough, Ana was on the couch with our friend, practically kneeling on top of him, and as I came in she sat back beside him abruptly, like she had been caught in the act."Babe, you don't waste any time, do you?" I said.She blushed and said, "I'm sorry, I'm just…"I handed one beer over to him. His other arm was around my wife's shoulders. Her skirt was hiked up so high that I could see her panties, even with her legs crossed. I recognized them as the panties she wore on our wedding night. Suddenly, as we were talking, he put his hand on my wife's leg. I saw her quiver slightly. He started to kiss her. She moved her hand up his leg. The way my wife looked over at me was indescribable..
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