The night I met my husband I never would have guessed him to be the adventurous lover he turned out to be.

We’d been introduced at a political fundraiser, one of those tedious affairs featuring entrees consisting of rubber chicken and marginal wine, and a blowhard political candidate who couldn’t hold our interest.

Phillip was dressed in the official uniform of the corporate executive: dark suit, white shirt, red tie, wingtips. What thirty-something year old wears wingtips? I wondered. Meanwhile, I was dressed in my version of conservative: a short black skirt with a white silk blouse, patterned tights and black high heels. Phillip and I were seated next to one another at dinner as the boring speakers lauded their candidate. Sometime between the main course and the chocolate mousse, we began a game... Read More