After greeting Sandy politely, she returned to conversation with the man on her other side. On his right was a French poet, a younger man, maybe early... thirties. He was very pleasant, and spoke poor English, so their conversation was in French. They chatted through the first course, but it became clear that the poet was gay. No problem with that, but it was obvious that he was more interested in making a play for Sandy, than chatting about literature, or anything else. Their conversation. They were both out of sight so I climbed the stairs, walked into their house and closed the door behind me. The hall went through to the back of the house and I could see Ray standing in the kitchen, waving for me to follow. I put down my gear bag and went down the hall and entered the kitchen. Ray offered me a seat at the table and Celeste asked Would you like a soda? I said Sure. . . and she walked over to the fridge, opened the door and bent down to get a can from the bottom shelf. I watched. Sandy was wearing a green crop top and a short, tight black skirt. I watched our worker friends admire my wife's body. Sandy walked straight up to Earl and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She did the same for Tim. I noticed a bulge in Earl's pants. "Now Dan, don't be a rude host, introduce me to these other fine gentlemen" I stood up and introduced Fred and Jason. Sandy shook both their hands and gave them light pecks on the cheek. "Dan kind of lied a little bit when he said I was going out. I'm. "Sure thing, I mean if you wanna make some use out of being here go ahead." I gave her a light kiss, going over to the pantry to see what I could make.Soon after about fifteen minutes I have bacon frying on a skillet, while boiling macaroni noodles in the other. I would occasionally look back at her to see her calm expression, with that sassy smile she has on her lips. "So you do this for every prostitute you're about to screw?" I looked back while stirring the bacon "-not really, this is.