When our children were young, I often suggested to my wife that she spend the evening with my best friend. This would be on evenings when it was unimaginably crowded.
She would then give me a broad smile and ask if I was sure about that.
When she was brought home in the early morning, I had to — and wanted to — hear what had happened.
Sex was not an option.
But it was always his hands massaging her bare breasts.
She said, 'Yes, it was exciting to see if the people around us would realise what he was doing to me. It was just that tension that made it so exciting. I actually wouldn't have cared if people found out. I just enjoyed being that woman with another man. Admittedly, he was your best friend, but you know me — it didn't matter to me at all.'