The parting kiss has the bittersweet taste of a sin just committed. As I hold her close, claiming every inch of her still-warm skin with a final, deep touch, he remains there, a few steps away. He's an obedient shadow in the darkness of the parking lot, motionless near the open car door. He holds her purse in his hands with a devotion bordering on the sacred, the silent guardian of a femininity that has just served my instincts. It's the perfect balance of our threesome: me wildly possessing her, her losing herself in my domination, and him, with that purse between his fingers, proudly accepting the role of spectator and servant of our passion.