I make the introduction. I watch the introduction. She turns it on instantly. She's smiling seductively, pushing her hair back, playing with the buttons on her blouse, stretching luxuriously, lean tan flat stomach completely exposed, full tan hard-nippled breasts strongly suggested.

He is trapped. I can see it in his eyes, as they roam over her, face to breasts, to stomach, to breasts, to breasts, to breasts, to face. My wife can see it too. She looks steamed. I smile.

There is idle chitchat between them. I do not follow it. My wife does not follow it. I strongly suspect they do not follow it either. It is merely a placeholder for the inevitable, for the naked, for the hot sweaty rough and tumble who gets to mount whom last and who will come loudest free for all that is sure to follow.

We all know it. Most of us are happy about it. Possibly even ecstatic. I smile harder. My wife frowns harder. My girlfriend takes my wife's lover's hand and leads him out into the big bad world.