“I help women liberate themselves.”“Sure, you do. You dominate them. Subjugate them.”“Teach them their true identities.”“And what, they�...��re all sluts?”“Most.”“What is wrong with you?”“Don’t you want to know what you are?” She asks, ignoring my question.“No,” I say in almost a whisper. I don’t need her to tell me. I know already. I’m the girl everyone overlooks. I’m the background. Even Carl, my boyfriend, took years to finally notice me. We were close friends until he finally figured out I had. When spring came, we sailed back out into the Pacific, and headed south. We decided there was no reason to risk a Cape Horn rounding, but we wanted to see Patagonia, so we kept sailing down the coast, stopping where there were safe harbours, and we took tours of historic cities.The whole family worked to learn Spanish. Dannie was better at it than any of us.We explored the eerie beauty of Patagonia, then headed north, toward the Panama Canal.I promised you a description of us, so here it is.. I did not want to leave her yet, so I accepted the ride. As we entered her car the overwhelming urge to kiss her overcame me. I kissed my sweet Anne as I had not kissed anyone since my honeymoon. She returned the kiss with equal passion. The she started the car and drove us to a local lover’s lane. Neither of us, both married over 20 years, in loveless marriages, had been to a lover’s lane in more than 20 years. We kissed and petted but did not have sex that night. We both wanted to but we had. After a while it slid out of me, leaving me wet and hard and wide awake. I didn't sleep again until it was time to get up.The next morning he acted as if nothing had happened - again. I wasn't sure if I should say something. Was he too insecure to bring up the topic himself? Or did he want to maintain the illusion of me not knowing about him knowing? I was afraid to destroy something that brought him such enormous pleasure so I said nothing, again.That day, I checked my husband's porn again..