Concert

"What?" your wife asked, seeing you gawking at her.

"N...nothing," you mumble, stomach aching.

"What?" she asks again.

"I...you...I mean...that...that outfit," you respond, mouth dry.

"You don't like it?" she asks.

"No," you respond, "I mean...yes...but...it's just that it's so...I don't know...sexy."

"Hon, it's a country concert, this is how all the girls dress. You should see Marcia's outfit, she is going to show way more skin than I am."

"Yea, but...but her husband is going with her," you answer.

She gives you that soft look. "Is this about Mark?" she asks.

"M...maybe," you acknowledge.

"You know we're just friends," she said.

You bit you lip, you know how guys think. Just friends or not, you know what he's going to think when he sees your wife. "I know," you answer, "I just..."

"Listen, would you rather I went without him? Then I'd be there without any guy to protect me, it's better to have a date."

"A date?" You feel the familiar twitching between your legs

"You know, a friend date," she quickly corrects herself.

"But a date," you ask.

"Everyone else is going as a couple, I suppose they just assume Mark and I are, too. At least I won't have to buy my own drinks."

Your stomach flips again. "And what if...what if your date wants to dance?"

"It's a country concert and we have floor tickets, of course there will be dancing."

"Like close dancing?"

"I mean, I suppose."

"And dressed like that, what are you going to do if he gets handsy?"

She shrugged, undid a button on her dress exposing her bra, making her breasts almost spill out. "I don't know, would you be mad or thinking about it all night?"

"I...I don't know," you answer.

"I know," she says, "I know exactly what you'll be thinking about."