We checked out some tents, but no one was there inside.Peter laughed, saying my sexy wife would be fucking somebody in a sailing boat moored there not so far. I asked him why he was so sure she was fucking. He laughed louder, picking up a tiny bikini bottom from the grass and I recognized it belonged to Ana.Peter put the little piece to his nose, saying no doubt it was Anita…I wanted to kill the bastard, but I managed to keep calm and just said he could leave if he needed to go. But Peter insisted, he would make me some company meanwhile my sweet wife was busy…We got into a cooler in their tents and stole a couple beers. The sailing boat suddenly started to move and approached us. We saw three young guys getting into the water up to their knees and coming up to us. Peter and I did not know them.I looked and saw my wife climbing out of the boat with a towel around her waist; she was still wearing her tiny bikini top. The first guy coming to us showed his fist to Peter, saying he would. He had to juggle it around in order not to burn his skin. The feeling was vile and indeed alien to him. Twisting and turning it, he tried to figure it out, knowing instinctively that it was a dangerous sentiment – an intruder. It might destroy him because he didn't know how to live with it. Should he confront it? Confess it? Or bury it in the graveyard of his mind? He felt the chill of moisture drying on his face. He'd cried without knowing.Time passed; how much time he didn't know. His new thoughts made him restless. He looked around the apartment for things to clean up and tidy, but that hadn't calmed him down. What it did was lure him to the mirror-door in the corner of the master bedroom. There he caught himself listening to whatever sound might come through it. He knew that it only would make it harder to obey Miss A's order to forget the girl's predicament, but after his third visit he couldn't resist opening the door and listening at the crack.At first he heard nothing. Maybe.
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