A few minutes later a sexy cocktail waitress appeared with my drink. She left quickly and almost made it to the exit before doubling over in laughter....y this time I was too far gone to care. My waist was being squeezed by some stupid shirt, my arm was still sore, my ego was in shatters, and I was helpless to defend myself against a hundred and forty pound hairstylist. Worse I knew the evening was only going to get even stranger. In what seemed like an eternity I sat there "processing" alone as. Sometimes I'd drop behind, pretending to be looking at something, and watch men approach her, thinking she was alone. One time she was surrounded by 3 or 4 young black guys, and I could see the delight on her face as she talked with them. I watched as she shook her head and turned to point at me. I saw them look and felt a mixture of pride and shame; pride at having a wife as hot as Dani, shame at knowing that those young guys knew that I was not man enough to have a woman like her. Later, in. More

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