There’s an old joke that goes like this. A man and his wife are in a restaurant. A beautiful woman walks up to the man, says hello, bends over, cleavage front and center, and gives him a sensual kiss, which the man returns. The beautiful woman walks away. His wife is outraged.

She says to the husband, “Who is that woman?”

He says, “That woman is my mistress.”

The wife is incensed. She says, “I want a divorce.”

The husband says, “Okay. But remember, if we divorce, we will no longer have the nice house, four fancy cars, three-times-a-year vacations to the hot spots in Europe, Japan, and California. You will have to get a job and an apartment, and we won’t be able to afford any domestic help.”

The husband and wife sit at the table, silently sipping their coffees while she thinks about that. Then a friend of theirs walks in the restaurant with a woman who isn’t his wife. The woman says to her husband, “Who’s that woman with him?”

The husband replies, “That’s his mistress.”

The woman says, “Well, ours is much prettier.”

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Excerpt from the third novel in The Dance Floor Wars series: Collisions