I looked around fearfullly for my husband who appeared to have parked himself at the bar with a group of hanger ons’ but who was watching us, narrow eyed. Reluctantly, I went along with Schwartz to the dance floor. He held me lightly, his arm encircling my waist without making me feel threatened. I placed my hand shyly on his shoulder and we swayed to the music.
Schwartz’s relaxed manner put me at ease. He told me about his wife who had died of cancer, she had been his childhood sweetheart, he said. He had not married after that; he laughed but I could sense the deep feeling behind his flippant remark.
*
Trying hard not to stride across the dance floor and sweep his wife away from the arms of his best friend, Gaston downed another drink, watching them broodingly. Damn the woman, he thought, throwing back his head and gulping down the drink. Her luscious body was making his manhood rise even though he slaked his lust on her every night.
He caught bits of a conversation as he straightened up from the bar.
“…too young for Gaston, don’t you think?”
“Mind blowing, that body!”
“Looks like Schwartz is going to get a share of her too tonight!”
Earlier, the crude remarks would never have affected him. But now, he felt furious.