It’s sometimes unexpected what you remember about a particular event after
some time has gone by & the memory of the details starts to fade a bit.

A couple of weekends ago, Hubby & I found ourselves out with another couple.
We’d been invited out for dinner with friends. Dinner turned into drinks at the
bar with friends of our friends, whom we’d never met. Drinks turned into going
back to the couple we had never met’s place (you follow?).

OK, if you’re looking for sex to take place next, it’s not going to happen
(this just ain’t that kind of story).

We walked a few blocks to a beautiful brownstone. It was a grand old building
that was now divided into four apartments. We entered John & Delia’s second
floor apartment & they immediately made us feel at home.
They got us drinks & kicked off their shoes.

Soon we were all talking & laughing (& half dressed...just kidding).
John started telling stories about all of the places he had traveled.
At some point, while he was talking, he had picked up one of his
girlfriend Delia’s shoes. He was absentmindedly turning the shoe
over & over in his hands. As his story continued, he kept playing with her shoe.
No one seemed fazed in the least by this, except me & I said nothing.
Really...what could I say anyway? I couldn’t say what I was thinking.
Saying, “What the hell is with you & that shoe...are we interrupting something?”
didn’t seem entirely appropriate.

Maybe, I was reading too much into the way he was caressing her shoe.
I could have been way off when I saw him tracing the outline of the opening
of her shoe with his fingers ever so gently & thought of sex. What he did next
put me over the top, he slowly put his hand deep into her shoe & started gliding
his fingers up & down, from the heal to the toe of her shoe...& back again.

That was it for me. I could take no more. We said our goodbyes & left.
There was only one thing left for him to do to her damn shoe & I didn't
think I wanted to stick around to witness it.