My wife went out for a friend’s bachelorette party last night, and, as I suspected, things got pretty rowdy. She’d been excitedly telling me about the plans the girls had concocted: bar crawl through their old college neighborhood with the final destination being a somewhat upscale strip club.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she promised with a smile and a bat of her eyes.
“Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I joked.
She was all dressed up in her going out attire: a tight dress and short skirt, full makeup with sexy dark red lips, stilettos—the whole works that would tantalize any man. She’s honestly out of my league in the looks department, and she knows it.
“Don’t worry, baby,” she said. “It’s just a few drinks with the girls. You already know them all.”
To be honest, I secretly hoped she would indulge in a few too many drinks, as it actually turns me on when she gets a bit too boozy for her own good and acts a bit slutty. Fortunately, she did not disappoint.