She shook her head in confusion.Second, she remembered that while they had kissed, she had come to her senses and stopped. She had apologized to Phil and told him that she couldn't. What had happened after that?She thought back, tried to remember. "A drink," she remembered. "We stopped kissing and had a drink. I remember that, but everything after is a blank. What happened after the drink? Did we both get wasted? Did I get that drunk? Damn, I just don't remember." Another thought entered her mind and she blanched. "Oh, my God. How am I going to face George. I just did what I have been accusing him of doing. But he has been cheating for who knows how long, and I now have the proof," she thought as she realized that she now has the photos. "And I really don't think that I actually had intercourse - at least I'm pretty sure that I haven't." Ohhhh," she moaned as she remembered the photos. "Marge, I can't believe it was Marge, one of my closest friends. Why would she do that? Oh, Phil,. " "I can't," Zoey agreed solemnly. She set her glass down, reached for my hand and gave it a soft squeeze. The crack widened considerably. Bright light began to pour through it. "So the only way left to go is forward," I concluded. Zoey nodded. Slowly, I leaned over and gently brought my face to hers. We kissed, allowing ourselves to give in to the sensation of each other's lips, mouth, tongue. The dark wall of despair that had been surrounding me for the past few days finally crumbled. I ran my hands through her hair, and down her back, then slowly, up her sides, to her breasts. I gave them a little squeeze, feeling the material of her bra through her top. "Lift your arms," I said. Zoey raised her arms. I grabbed her top and pulled it up and over her head. Her bra was soft cotton, white with little blue flowers printed on it. We continued kissing. My hands roamed over her breasts, caressing them. I could feel her nipples stiffen through the fabric beneath my circling thumbs..
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