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My heart was pounding. A combination of anxiety, arousal, embarrassment, confusion and fear all fighting for my attention, and I really wasn't sure how to process them. I tried to focus on my tasks at hand, but it was a struggle. I had to pause for a moment, and make a mental list of what I still needed to do. First - get this stupid chicken cooking. Next, get a shower. Then, avoid Jess at all costs. I washed my hands and got back to the food, finished prepping it, and got it on the smoker. This was an accomplishment, but now, less distracted than before I found myself again worrying about damage control.

Part of me was in denial, doing my best to pretend nothing happened. Kelly didn't need to know. But then again, I'm an honest person, and the type that would let a situation like this eat him up. I'm not some fucking sissy, and usually emotionally stable, controlled, disciplined, but I was allowing the events of the past 24 hours to fuck me up. I thought back to my tasks - just get in the shower and keep things moving. But then, if I did that and Kelly didn't get home soon, I was going to be naked, and the little tramp would undoubtedly find me and try something else, I was sure of it.

I was beyond relieved when my step son Mike and his long time friend Derek Murphy, who everyone called ‘Murph' showed up earlier than expected. Hey Mike, I didn't know you were bringing the Murph diver with you, I joked. They both greeted me with Murph raising his fingers ...

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