I said, "Hello."

"How's it going?" He asked.

"Pretty good," I said, "You?"

"Good, man... it's good."

I smiled, nodded and turned forward.

"How's your wife?"

I turned back and looked at him a little more carefully, "She's... uh... good," I said - he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. I was racking my brain: What was his name? How did I know him? Where had I met him?

He smiled conspiratorially, "You don't remember me, do you?"

"No... I apologize," I said, "Please... remind me of your name."

He told me his name and the party where we had met. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I suddenly felt short of breath, my ears felt red hot and I could hear the blood roaring through my head. I remembered... not him, but the party where we had met. The orgy. The guys lining-up to fuck my wife, Daisy, while she went down on the hostess. Sucking my friend's dick while his wife rubbed her clit watching me. 

"Jesus..." I gasped.

He smiled, "It's all good, man. That was a Helluva party."

"Yes," I said, "Yes, it was..."

"You tell Daisy I said, 'Hi' Okay?"

It was then I got distracted. The cashier had finished with the person in front of me. The line advanced. It was my turn. I began to unload my basket.

When I turned back, he'd gone.