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In Part 1, things left off with Millie with me telling her we could talk about her night out. Millie, my girlfriend at the time and my now wife, had skipped out on our regular Friday time together to go out with friends, and when she did she kissed a guy on a dance floor at a bar.
Like I had mentioned, I was surprised that Millie seemed more upset about this than me. I think I was just a little shocked. Millie and I had (and still have) high sex drives, so I always wondered if she would stay faithful while we were long distance. Maybe I knew this was always coming and had prepared myself. Maybe there was another reason I wasn’t furious.
I started to probe what had happened.
Millie had already told me that the guy kissed her on the dance floor and she didn’t stop him. I wanted to know more. So I asked her if anything else had happened.
“I, uh, kissed him. I was drunk. He kissed me and I didn’t stop him,” she started divulging. My heart started picking up pace. I could feel my neck starting to burn a little. I’m sure I was starting to turn red. I think I audibly gulped. She continued, “We started making out while we were dancing and he was grabbing the back of my neck with one hand and my hips with the other. He was moving my hips with the music. I thought we were just dancing and then he kissed me.”
All I could muster was another, “Okay.”
“He was holding me so I couldn’t escape really,” she said almost as an excuse. “Did you want to?” I asked.
I’m sure what followed was only a second-long pause from Millie but it felt like an eternity. What was she going to say? That she wanted to push him away and run to her friends?
“No, I didn’t want to.” My heart sank. Now I knew I had turned red. Not from anger but from embarrassment. From angst. And from interest. I needed to know more. Now I needed to know everything. And so I started asking what happened next. Every detail needed to be divulged.
“We kissed on the dance floor. That was it.” I didn’t believe her. I know Millie. There is no “just kissing on the dance floor”.
I probed, “What really happened?” She knew I wouldn’t relent until I knew the truth. She gave in and started to tell me the truth. That they danced and kissed, and his hands moved from her hips and neck to her ass. She told me she was wearing her high waisted jeans that always drove me crazy. They shape her full ass perfectly so I could imagine how good she looked on the dance floor.
As she continued to tell me the details of her on the dance floor it felt like we were engaged in our own dance. We were moving in rhythm. I would ask for more detail, and she would resist. I would push, and she would acquiesce. She told me how his hands moved from her ass to her front button where he paused, seemingly asking for permission to undo it. She did tell me she pulled his hands away, but she guided him off the dance floor where they found a table and introduced themselves. It was there that I knew where this story was going to end.
I asked her bluntly, “Did you sleep together?”
“Yes,” she said. My face couldn’t go any redder.
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