Chicago was alive."Here," he said, finishing a bottle of beer with one hand, and holding up a piece of paper to her mouth with the other. "Taste it."Connie bit the paper and held it on her tongue to let the acid dissolve, and then moved to kiss him. It was a pathetic place to make out, here in this trash-strewn, freewheeling park, and she could instantly envision cops with batons rapping on the fabric on the tent, but no one came.Tom's lips met hers, and his eyes were large, unearthly, luminous blue. His tongue touched her lips and then parted them, and she let the blotter paper rest on her lip. He tasted like cheap Schlitz beer and the earthy flavor of marijuana, and she wanted to pull away at first, but he was insistent, and she was more willing than she had thought. As they broke the kiss, he slid the blotter paper off her lip and swallowed it, blinking hard."I bet you've never had sex in public," he said suddenly, his voice half-muffled as he stripped off the T-shirt proclaiming. My wife and the bitch were nowhere to be seen so I went through the kitchen and onto the back patio to see if they were at the pool. There were a few half empty glasses and a red bikini bottom laying on a deck chair, but no half drunk women as I expected. I toed at the red cloth with my wingtip and realized that it was made for a man and not for a woman. My blood started to boil.I stormed back through the house and listened quietly, back on the prowl, hoping to catch her in the act. My mind had already forgotten Brenda the bitch and I imagined my wife on her back with some young pool boy probing her insides. Just as I rounded the bottom of the stairs I heard a giggle and then a deep voice, definitely coming from upstairs. I slipped out of my hard-soled shoes and tiptoed in sock feet to the second floor. Our master bath had a door leading into it from the hallway as well as our bedroom, so I ducked into the darkness there to listen. The sounds coming from our bedroom were prominent.
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