It was a Friday in late May, and perhaps the last day of tolerable weather before the Houston summer hit. Jess and I took advantage by going for a picnic, something we had done frequently. We had found a secluded area in Buffalo Bayou Park that had become our favorite. It offered more than the necessary measure of privacy to satisfy our desire for public sex, something that we had pushed the limits of during the beautiful spring months. I wrapped the empty salad container and sandwich paper in a bag and set it to the side and moved our stemless wine glasses to the edge of the blanket we...