”“I can see you’re point.” He raised his bottle and took a drink, then second guessed himself; he felt like a slob. Taking the glass and, tipp...ng it slightly, filled it. Manners had won out.“I’m a little disappointed,” she remarked, “on the weekends, they often have live music. Nothing fancy, usually a quartet or a piano player, but tonight we have to listen to canned music.”“I don’t see that as a problem, I came here to be with you, not some string quartet.”“You silver tongued devil,” she. She pulled her shirt down over her tits and headed to the kitchen for a refill. Barbara tried to not look into the den as she made her way down the hallway and to the kitchen. She failed miserably as she noticed her husband standing in the middle of their glass coffee table.“What the fuck are you doing?” She yelled.She began to curse him like nobody ever had. This was the last straw. He had made messes before, but this was a piece of furniture that he had broken!As she ranted she failed to. More

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