No. You are a good wife

Your head spins and you struggle to breath. You look around at the party, lights and colours swirling. You feel drunk but it isn't just the ****. It's the excitement, the lust and the desire. The want to be naughty. Thoughts of your husband are far away. Everything swirls around you as background sights and sounds. All that matters is you and Mr Longstreet in this booth. You don't know why, but you want to be naughty with him. To show off to him in public. It's so naughty, so risky, so bad.

Your cheeks are flushed as you look back up at him through your eyelashes. You smile, biting your lip and remove your hand from his thigh. Slowly you grip the bottom of your dress. You can see the anticipation in his eyes as he eagerly waits for you to follow his instructions. He seems to be on edge, tense like a hunter in the last moments of stalking his prey. And you suddenly realise that's exactly what he is. He's a lion and you're a gazelle caught in his gaze. You shiver as everything is laid bare to you. You know that this is the moment. If you obey, he catches you and will devour you.

You struggle on the edge of falling into his trap. Until the sudden memory of Troy flashes through your mind. Troy, who even at a party, is working. Working to provide you with a better life. And here you are, about to show his boss your panties. Tears spring up in your eyes. Your cheeks burn hotter than ever before and your stomach knots. Bile rises in your throat as the shame nearly overwhelms you.

You look up at Mr Longstreet and shake your head, eyes wide. "No...sorry...I can't...I have...I'm married. Please...I can't...I have...I have to go...Sorry..."

You push away from him as you stammer your apologies. He watches you impassively, leaning back on the bench, spreading his arms across it. A small smile plays across his lips. You fumble as you stand, sliding out from behind the table. You spin on the spot, looking for an escape. "I have to go! Sorry"
Mr Longstreet nods. "No apology needed. Until next time Mrs Edwards."

The thought of next time makes your stomach flip and you turn, lurching out of the party. You fumble in your clutch, pulling out your phone. Shame, anxiety, adrenaline and arousal make your hands shake as you type out a quick message to Troy:

<Sorry babe. I think I might have had too much to drink. I'm not feeling well. Getting a cab home.>

A few moments later, he gives you a reply.

<Are you sure? Are you alright? Need me to come find you?

<No. It's alright. Just a bit unwell. I'll see you when you get home. Love you. x>

<Love you too. x>

And with that, you're out of the party. You struggle to breath, chest heaving as you suck in the cool, outside air. You step up to the curb, hailing down the first cab you see. You throw yourself in the back, giving the driver directions home. Only then do you realise you're shaking. You stuff your hand in your mouth and close your eyes, trying to ignore both the shame and the arousal as you make your way home.