The night is now in full swing and the guests elicit how they'd love to come again to such a fine and inviting soiree. As the evening winds down they depart with gracious thanks for such a lovely time. You return to the dining room, where your slightly inebriated husband anxiously awaits you. You smile, and begin clearing the dishes.
As you lithely arch over the table near him to retrieve the empty salad bowl, he sweeps his hands up under your skirt, followed by his taut lips. You turn to smile at him and notice a sour response. "Baby, you have to wash the salad before you toss the salad."