The "bemusing" incident:

I used to watch her baby on their prescribed "date night" -- my son and I usually spend the night at their apartment afterwards. That night I wore a long silk floral magenta chemise to sleep in (I like feeling femme in bed). My son and I slept on the pull-out bed in the livingroom, adjacent to the kitchen.

It was late into the dark of the night, long after they returned home. My back was turned to the doorway, one strap down to nurse my son. I could hear something. The kitchen light was on. I knew he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. I pretended to be asleep.

The next morning, as I was ready to leave, I knocked on their bedroom door. She told me to come in -- they were both more naked than I've ever seen them before (and hope will never since). He gave me a big grin as he sat up. She was disheveled and happy -- I've never seen an expression on her face like that before.

I have to laugh about it. I feel pleased in my own way, to do some relationship therapy and inspire a good fuck between this unhappily married couple.

I've found what I'm looking for:

To be taken in hand.

Read this link too: When rape is a gift