When you asked me out for drinks after work I expected us to go to the local pub, grab a beer and call it a night. I wasn’t expecting you to buy four bottles of wine and slide your hand up my skirt at the bar. And I certainly didn’t expect you to call us a cab and take me home to your husband. I guess this is what I get for bragging about what a big mouth I have. But, eh, at least we don’t have to bother standing over the coffee pot on Monday talking about our weekend. We can just hide in the bathroom on the third floor and I’ll beg to let me taste you again.