Cum trickled down my legs as I slipped my heels back on, the click of them loud in the quiet room. We left the mess behind—sheets ruined, air thick with sex—and walked out. Through the hotel reception, I strutted, dripping, a slut on full display. Heads turned, whispers followed, but I didn’t care. Hubby’s hand rested on my lower back, possessive, proud, as we crossed the polished floor. My thighs were slick, the evidence of the night seeping out with every step, pooling slightly at the tops of my stockings.