Scott and Jenny viewed a room walled with multi-coloured tapestries, multiple portraits, and statues of Elvis Presley and a floral decorated archway.“What is this place?” Scott asked.“Why it’s the Little Los Vegas Wedding Chapel. Didn’t you see the sign above the doorway?” Kosey asked.“Sorry, I guess we must have overlooked it,” Jenny said.“But are you not here to get married?” Sula asked.Before Scott or Jenny could answer, “Eee ... err ... eee ... err,” announced an approaching police car.Scott hurried to the window, barely brushing the corner of the curtain aside. The National Police car continued to his right, the siren fading. Jenny came up behind Scott, putting her arms around him, pressing her tits against his back.“We’ll be okay,” she reassured him.“We shouldn’t have parked the car so far away. We don’t know if the police have connected the car to us or not.” She hugged him, her hand touching the butt of the gun hidden in the waistband of his pants.“Is that a gun, or are you. ‘How about you meet me at my place after work tonight….say around 6 p.m.? I assume you know where I live….You seem to know everything about me…’ She blushed, ‘I guess you could say that…’ ‘Well, can I count on seeing you later on tonight?’ ‘Sure…I’ll be there.’ He was stunned the words had come out of his mouth. His mantra, his morals, his values, his love for his wife all seemed to have left him, just as the saliva had left his mouth. Whenever Suzy pushed the envelop by making sexual comments toward him, he would always tell her, ‘You know I won’t ever stray, not for a second. We both know that, we’re both married, happily at that…’ So what the fuck was he doing asking her to his house? He didn’t know and blamed it on temporary insanity. He knew it was a huge mistake, he knew his life depended on his ability to ‘keep it in his pants.’ He hadn’t yet been told if he had made partner, but he knew getting mixed up in an extramarital affair sure as fuck wouldn’t help him out. Yet here.
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