“You’re going to wear that?!”
One of the things I had always liked about my wife’s best friend was her candor. And now I loved it.
A girl’s night had been scheduled and agreed upon. Kayla, my wife’s best friend, stood in our doorway dressed to the 9s and ready to go. She was zipped into a tiny black dress, her hair was done, and her uncharacteristic smokey makeup told me all I needed to know of her plans for the evening.
My wife, however, seemed to be dressed for a church picnic. “What the hell is wrong with you,” Kayle chided, as she came in the door and led my wife upstairs.
“Mama Slut has got to do a better job” she half-mumbled to herself as she closed the door after my wife.
I cracked open a beer, sat down in the Lazy Boy, and put on the game. But inside I was almost giddy, thinking of how my wife would look when she came downstairs. And what we would do to her when she got home…