Anne leans over and kisses me full on the lips.
For a moment, I don't move then I instinctively back away.
"Please, Anne," I whisper.
"Don't talk," she commands and I find I can no longer speak.
"Anne," my wife shouts indignantly, "what are you doing with my husband?"
"He's not your husband. In fact, you never met him before tonight," Anne tells my wife.
My wife looks confused then stammers a bit. "B-but ..."
"He's my boyfriend," Anne states matter-of-factly.
My wife was obviously resisting Anne's statements by saying, "He's my ..."
"He's nothing to you. He's my boyfriend, remember?" Anne sweetly suggests.
"Yes, of course, he is. But I thought you were gay?" my wife says at a final attempt to retain some memory of our life together.
"That doesn't matter. You're open to anything sexual because you are a slut. Sex is all you think about!"
I could see a shift in my wife's demeanor.
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