Pick

"Both these sets are cute, don't you think?" my wife said, looking at the two bra and panty sets she carefully arranged on the bed.

"They...they're pretty," I said, feeling the familiar conflict of wanting to wear them, wanting to see her where them. 

"Both come with a matching garter belt, of course," she smiled. "You get to pick."

"Pick?"

"Pick," she said, "which one you'll wear and which one I'll wear."

"Now?"

"No, for Saturday, silly," she said.

"Hon...I...I can't..."

"Stop, of course you can. I know they're both pretty, just pick."

"No, I mean...S...Saturday?"

"God, you're still worried, aren't you?"

"I...I've never..."

"Gone on a date with a man? Neither has anyone until they have."

"I just..." 

"He's cute, trust me."

"I just..."

"Seriously, he's really cute," she said, as if that was all that worried me.

"You've been fantasizing about it for years, I get you're nervous, but trust me, it's going to be amazing."