I usually get a little nervous when I have company round for dinner. I am a pretty good cook but I like things to go well for my husband. He has a good job, and as such, I have no need to work. I actually enjoy being a housewife. I usually find plenty to do.
On that night we were hosting my husband's new boss, an Italian gentleman. He speaks perfect English and is a little younger than my husband.
I had met him once at my husband's firm's annual dinner and dance although I only remember him vaguely. At the time he wasn't Harry's boss, just a rising star in the company. Harry said that he had remembered me and also heard through the office grapevine that I had made quite an impression on him. I can't think why as I can barely remember him.
Anyway, tonight he was coming to dinner and Harry wanted things to go just so, as did I. My first thought was to cook something Italian but Harry said he much preferred good old English cooking. Roast beef it is then. Being nervous I had one or two glasses of sherry to calm my nerves. Harry doesn't like me drinking too much as it has an effect on me that can be quite embarrassing. He doesn't mind when it's only me and him, only when we go out or have company.
Alcohol, you see, tends to make me quite amorous. It also has the effect of switching off a few of my filters. Of course, when we are at home together Harry likes me like that. When we are with company, on the other hand, he gets a tad nervous, especially if I have one too many. Now that you understand that, you can probably see that having a few glasses of nerve-calming sherry was probably not the wisest thing to do, especially as Harry was trying to make a good impression on his boss.
I'm not sure if it's the same for everyone else but I usually feel that having one glass is fine. I then have a second glass thinking the first one never worked. After the third glass, I completely forget why having a drink was such a bad idea in the first place. Anyway, I think I probably had a glass too many. That's going to be my excuse from here on in, so please don't judge me.
Skipping forward to the evening and things were going very well, so far at least. I say so far because Harry didn't know I had already reached my safe limit of alcohol during the day. I was now onto my third glass of red wine and feeling a little squiffy. The filters were starting to switch off. The strange thing about filters is you don't realise you even have them when they switch off.
It all started when I took some dirty dishes into the kitchen. Harry's boss followed me in to fetch the bottle he had brought with him. I was bending down to fill the dishwasher when I felt a pinch on my bottom. Thinking it was Harry I said something like, "Ouch, I felt that. Rub it better you naughty boy." No sooner had I said it when he started to do just that. It was only as I stood up I realised it wasn't Harry, oops.