“Looking good, babe,” I say, eyeing Lauren up and down. I lean in close and whisper, my lips brushing her ear, “Looking sexy.” Her black dress hugs her slender frame, shows off the flat belly I know she’s proud of preserving. She’s turning forty-three next month, and even after six years of marriage, she still turns me on.
“I’m not supposed to be sexy, Dane,” she rolls her eyes and grins, “I’m supposed to be nice. It’s a nice dinner with my friend.”
“You’re always sexy.” My hands find her tight little ass, squeezing it as I pull her into me. We kiss. “Anyway,” I say, “What’s taking her so long?”
Lauren leans away from me. “Kate?” she calls. The guest bedroom is just off the foyer, and the door is closed. We can see movement in the shadows bouncing through the gap between the door and the carpet, muffled and hushed voices accompanying.
“Just a sec!” Kate says through the door. Kate and Lauren go way back, friends since childhood. Even though their lives diverged after high school — Kate having a child young, while my wife went off in pursuit of college and grad school and business leadership — and even though they once had a patch where they went two or three years without talking — they’re still good friends today.