Exposed Read Online Free PDF Page B

out. I haven’t, and I’ve got some experience.
    You would find some of the men I’ve been with quite beautiful (handsome, whatever) but they leave me cold. Other men you probably wouldn’t look at twice, but they are erotic beyond my understanding. I still have their numbers. Hell, I still call their numbers.
    They do things to me, with me, around me, on me, over me, that makes me want more and more of them. I don’t know why; they just do.
    Maybe you’ve felt the same thing and maybe you know the reason why, or maybe not. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s because some of them have 18-inch tongues and can breathe through their ears.
    I got hit on all the time, whether at work, out for a drink with the girls, sometimes even when I was with Mark and displaying that rather significant wedding ring. Half the time, I wasn’t aware of it, half the time I was, and almost all the time, it didn’t really matter. I had a pretty good life going with a man I adored and who adored me.
    Mark got hit on a lot, too. It didn’t bother me much, unless the woman was indiscreet or disrespectful, or just stupid.
    One time at a restaurant on one of the piers over the water, a woman staggered over to our table.
    “Hi honey,” she said to me, “you know something? This guy’s really hot.” Then she sat right down at our table. She was older than we were, but still very beautiful. She had a thick mane of blond hair, and if it wasn’t her natural color, she spent a lot of money on it. Her clothes were expensive too, and she was in town for a convention of medical prosthetic sales reps.
    “Replacement parts,” she said. “Everything from hips to knees to tits,” she said, “but not mine.” She unbuttoned her blouse to show Mark that hers were real. Then she looked at me, as if to imply mine were not (they are) or inadequate (they’re not).
    She would have had her bra off too, if the waiter hadn’t talked her giggling friends into coming over and taking her away.
    Mark and I laughed about that, but nobody knew how close that bitch had come to going for a swim with the seals searching for scraps around the pilings below our table.
    I think Mark was tempted, or maybe intrigued is the better word. A man’s voice changes when his libido is engaged; he has a slight edge, a slight energy that can be felt more than heard or seen. I don’t really know how to explain it, but most women can sense it. Maybe men can sense it in women, too.
    Tony would say of some women, “She has the scent,” and he didn’t mean anything gross. He meant that he could detect that the woman was ready to have the same kind of fun he was looking for.
    I heard that slight edge of the hunt in Mark’s voice after the woman of the unbuttoned blouse was pulled away from our table. It made me a little jealous, more so than the sight of her exposed skin.
    But it went both ways. Once we were at a gathering in the top-floor bar of the building that housed his firm. As he and I were standing talking, I noticed a very distinguished, incredibly handsome man standing a few groups over. Every once in a while I caught him looking me over.
    Mark left to get me a drink. I walked over to the window looking out over the Sound. It was one of those days Seattle offers up once in a while that makes it seem like the center of the Earth, everything breathtakingly beautiful.
    Huge freighters moved across the Sound to Tacoma, while others headed out to sea. Sunlight danced across the water as wakes folded back from each bow. From this height the waves were simple lines overlapping and moving through each other, seemingly unaffected by the interaction.
    “It’s a view, isn’t it?” said a voice at my shoulder, soft, yet so deep it seemed to vibrate inside me.
    I turned to see the man with a silver mane and a face that had seen time and weather, but eyes so blue and laughing I caught my breath. A cascade of desire swept over me.
    “Yes it IS,” was all I could say, feeling like