Was it jealousy? I guess it was, but not that Andi showed affection towards our daughter, hell I’d do the same. It was the ease with which she carried her partial disrobement that I envied. I’d been raised by strict parents and more or less disowned when I confessed my feelings for another woman.  I was raised to keep sex in the bedroom, to hide it shamefully from others, but Andi was so comfortable with her breasts (albeit, cradled in her bra) exposed and I wished I could be more like her.<br/><br/><strong>“Hey come on. Answer your mom.” </strong>I echoed playfully rubbing Chanel's hip as I passed. “<strong>What have you guys been up-to-today</strong>?” in my mind a hundred ideas of what I would like to do with Andi came and went, each more lurid and exciting than the last. I felt twitches of arousal and could hardly wait until we were alone together.<br/><br/>I divided the meal onto four plates, wondering why Reese was taking so long to join us. Surely we’d heard him on the stairs. “<strong>Hey Reese, your dinner’s going out.”  </strong>I laid the plates on the table and sat behind one of them, picking up a fork and sipping at my wine. My lips glistened and sparkled and I wondered whether life could be any better than this.<br/>