Twenty-two, I was with my first lover, not college-girl exploring but the real deal. She was 28 and had an even older long-distance partner who was visiting, so we went out for coffee drinks. Playing just friends. I’d never had one before; it was divine, sweet Bailey’s flame searing night mocha, whipped cream-topped glass mug, shaved chocolate.
Her partner paid, magnanimous, husky and tanned, clueless or so it seemed. I was smug, silky, sitting back watching my lover managing. Later, when she cheated on me too, I called her partner, trying to commiserate. And that was some hot wet salt.
Photo Credit: Chris Blakeley
Hello!
Could you explain the meaning of the “hot wet salt” in the end, please?