On the other sofa, both Lance and Linda were quite drunk as they argued about the correct way to tie down the jib on the Barbers' sail boat.

"No," slurred Lance. "AL knot like that would…"

"The hell it would," argued Linda. "I've been tying like that for years."

"It won't hold," mumbled Lance, getting up to pour another drink.

"Shit it won't," giggled Linda, running her hands through her short blonde hair. "You don't know a pissin' thing about tyin' knots."

"One jerk and your fuckin' knot would slip," said the man, staggering back with their drinks.

"Betcha," she giggled.

"My God," laughed Joan, listening to the stupid conversation. "Why don't you idiots walk down to the marina and pull on the stupid rope?"

"Sure," slurred Linda. "And I'll betcha my knot won't slip."

"Okay," sinned Lance, staggering to his feet. "Let's go prove it."

"Good," Linda giggled. "I'll betcha a drink."

"You're on," said Lance in an unsteady voice as they staggered out the door.

When they had gone, Joan suddenly realized that she'd sent them to the marina so she could be alone with Craig.

"Oh, Joan," the man whispered, taking her pretty face between his hands as he gazed into her big grey eyes that were smoldering just below her long dark bangs.

Just as she knew he would, the man lowered his mouth down over her wet open lips. Joan knew she should stop him but she had no will to resist as her mouth clung passionately to his, their slippery tongues deliciously entwined. As much as Joan knew it was wrong, there was no way she could draw her lips away from his deep sweet kiss. Sucking passionately on Craig's tongue, she could feel his hand moving down her back until his fingers slipped under the waist band of her shorts.