If we held to that statistic, we would eachneed a place to be bedded by our lovers. We decided that whatever wedid in the privacy of our own rooms wit... whomever we chose to do it,was our own business. The living room would be for mutual use forentertaining with our clothes on unless we were both entertaining thesame lover, or the other one had previously announced her intentions ofbeing out all night. The kitchen was our place, and off-limits tolovers. These arrangements worked well, and we. As she crumpled downwards I felt my anger rise upwards, "You fucking whore ... you slut ... How could you? I loved you, you were my life and I come home to this ... You whore. You immoral little whore." And as suddenly as the anger came now tears took over.I sat there on the kitchen chair sobbing like a baby, everything was lost. There was no way back. I couldn't accept her screwing around on me. I loved her, but she had to be all mine or not at all. Eventually I calmed down, and looked at my. More

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