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By Dr. Spin (drspin@newsguy.com)

My wife knew more people than I at this extravagant party.
It was all about her people and those with whom she worked. It would have been forgettable but for the fierce storm raging outside, letting loose cracks of thunder which made women jump and squeal, and especially but for the silver-plated bonus of the electric Diana, who may have been one of my wife's people but who was also at the peak of an illicit, dangerous and thrilling affair with me.
I was at the edge of the big room, leaning my lanky frame indolently against the wall and watching her avidly, and she knew that's what I was doing as she chatted with a group of people including my wife, because her eyes kept flashing in my direction. I was watching Diana, slim and sexy in her little black dress, when an impossibly bright flash of lightning dragged my eyes to the big windows. Bang. All the lights went out.
Ladies who did not like blackouts, and that means most of them, screamed and moaned. My brain, however, was faster than a lightning bolt and I moved quickly and directly towards the point where Diana had been standing. I groped for and found her hand in the chaos and pulled her clear of the throng and into the corridor. I pressed her against the wall and kissed her urgently but briefly. "Quick," I whispered. "We may not have much time."
Holding her by the wrist and feeling my way via the wall, I dragged her down the corridor. She was obviously blind as a bat because she hung back like an anchor. I opened the first closed door I came across, tugged her inside and shut it. I took her by the shoulders and moved carefully until I felt a bed against the back of my legs. I fell back, pulling her on top of me. Again our lips met and I again I pulled away.
"Too much to do," I whispered. "Too little time."
I rolled her over on the bed, sat astride her legs and pushed her dress up her thighs. She wriggled and tried to sit up but I pushed her down. "Hush, my love," I said softly. "Do nothing, say nothing."
I slid her panties down and lowered my head between her legs, searching for her. I burrowed into her with my mouth and my tongue, my nose thrusting through her lush and wiry pubic hair. Wait. Hang on. Whoa. Lush and wiry? I stopped and lifted my head into the black night.
"Oh God," said a deep and husky female voice I did not recognise. "Don't stop now."
Who the fuck was this? "Who the fuck are you?" I asked before I could stop myself. "And who the hell are you?" she responded.
"Holy shit. I thought you were...somebody else."
"It did occur to me."
"What do we do now?"
She sat up, found my head and pressed it down. "Continue," she said.
Right. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. How could I not have known this was not Diana? This woman was completely different. Diana was small and bony. This one was bigger and softer all over. She smelled different. She even tasted different. Objectively, somewhat better. Her hand at my head bunched and clutched at my hair. She was quicker than Diana too. She tugged painfully at my hair and, like the left jab of a lightweight boxer, bumped my nose hard three times in rapid succession with her pubic bone. She groaned and flopped back on the bed. "It's been a long time since that happened," she whispered.
"Whoever you are, you know what you're doing."
"My pleasure. What's your name?"
"No," she said quickly. "Better if we don't know."
"What if the lights come back on?"
"If I see your face I'll have to slap it for taking liberties. Besides, I don't want to know how ugly you are." I laughed softly. "I like your style."
"And I like yours, mister. Do me quick while it's still dark."
She was slippery wet, warm and welcoming and I plunged into her with my trousers around my shins. She wasn't exactly tight but the illicit nature of the event provided all the thrill necessary for a vigorously excited coupling. I groaned and thrashed through ejaculation and I'm not sure what happened to her but it was all pretty feverish.
Only seconds later, not nearly long enough for peaceful contemplation, she nudged me with her elbow. "Off now," she ordered. "The power may come back at any moment." I rolled away and dressed quickly. "Leave," she hissed at me from the bed.
I groped around on the floor for a missing shoe and my hands closed over a lump of cloth. Her panties. On impulse I scooped them up and into my shirt pocket. I opened the door and she hissed again. "Wait," she said. I froze. "Thanks," she said. "It was nice."
I shut the door and groped my way back down the hall.Lights briefly flared through matches and cigarette lighters and just as I passed the kitchen a candle cast a more lasting light. I had time only to get my bearings when the main lights surged back on. The crowd cheered with relief.
The party wound down gradually and Shelley, my wife, made eye signals at me about leaving. She sought out the host, a middle-aged man she worked with. He and his wife were wishing a line of people goodbye. Our turn came and each shook my hand with polite smiles, knowing Shelley but not me. I was thinking about where I'd parked the car when the woman flashed out her hand and smacked me soundly across the face.
Five or six people turned to look at us and I reached up my hand involuntarily to protect myself. The woman looked at me with cool grey eyes which flicked for just a moment at my shirt pocket. The barest hint of a woman's panties showed over the rim. Unless you knew what it was you wouldn't know what it was. "You may have had too much to drink, young man," she said to me loudly and clearly, "but I'll thank you not to goose me in public."
"Uh, sorry," I mumbled, and slid quickly out the front door.
My wife followed hard on my heels.
"What the hell?" she demanded. "Did you pinch Eva Hartmann on the bottom?"
"No," I said truthfully. "I guess she had me confused with somebody else."
Shelley laughed. "Wow," she said. "I can't imagine anyone ever having the courage to pinch Eva. What a battleaxe." I mused about it on the way home. The formidable Eva Hartmann, dowager of the charity set, had to be 55 if she was a day. Built like a diva.
That old saying must be true: "They're all alike in the dark."