On second thoughts, maybe not.

"I...I don't think we should do this" You murmur. You can't deny that his hand does feel nice on your leg, but you're a married woman and there is a crowd of strangers only mere metres away from you. You struggle for a moment, shocked that you're finding it as difficult as you are, but eventually you find the willpower to reach down and shift his hand. You slide apart a little. You're still closer than you were before but now there is at least a modicum of respect in the distance between the two of you.

Your conversation resumes, albeit a little awkwardly to begin with. But soon you are chatting again, sipping your drinks and, aside from the occasional glances into each other's eyes, the time passes as if nothing inappropriate happened. Eventually your husband returns and you can see the mental drain in his eyes. The two of you make your goodbyes to Mr Longstreet, thanking him for such a wonderful night. You hesitate for a moment before exchanging social media contact details with him before you go, happy to have made friends with your husband's boss. The thought that you could be more than just friends with such a powerful man certainly has nothing to do with it.

Arm entwined around Troy's, the two of you leave the party and hail a cab to go home.