My Ex-Husband Sequel

I always wondered how a woman like Cheetah’s wife could commit to a relationship like the one they had. She could have any guy she wanted, really, yet, she was allowed to go out with other men—even sleep with them.

“I don’t get it, Cheet,” I said.
“We’re swingers, baby.”

Great. I still didn’t get it.

Maybe she knew she could have any man—maybe that’s it. Or maybe she was testing the theory. Maybe Cheetah’s wife was searching for some sort of validation or reassurance of her beauty and the powers she must have had as a younger woman. The powers over men. I thought for a moment that I could never do that, or be a part of something like that. Yet, here I was: on a date with her husband (how is this even possible? married people don’t date.) And he’s stolen several glances at my breasts since we sat down and looked at the menus.

“More wine?” he asked, holding up the bottle.

Fuck it. “Sure,” I said.

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