Let me tell you a story about my wife Rose. She wasn't my wife at the time. We were dating however, and it had started to get very serious. She was 23 year old.
The collision of events seems almost impossible to comprehend, even when I look back at it today. A couple of innocent choices, a few that were somewhat less innocent, a college fraternity dare, and just dumb luck coalesced in such a way that it changed the course of our lives. Certainly my wife was never the same.
The event takes place the summer after we finished college. Rose and I had gotten together part way through. She was a beautiful woman. She had this perfect long brown hair that fell behind a slender upper body. Her breasts were a full B cup that sat above a flat abdomen and long slender legs. Even when we got together, she was fairly innocent.
Now, this is the part of the story where I admit that I'm a bit of a jealous type. Rose had very little experience, but she tended to dress in ways that made her prone to accidental exposure. Nothing too outlandish mind you. She'd sit with her legs uncrossed if she wore a skirt. She'd wear a bra that was just a bit too big with a tank top just a bit too low. I often wondered if she did this on purpose, but I actually suspect not. In truth, very few people had probably seen anything besides the occasional nipple slip or peek at her panties.
Again, most people probably hadn't really seen much of Rose, but these little events did bring out my jealous streak at times. We rarely fought, but her clothes were the usual topic when we did. I admit that I was at times too overbearing, sometimes trying to prevent her from doing things she'd otherwise do if there was a risk of exposure. Then again, maybe I should have been a little more aggressive in retrospect.
A large music festival was coming to our town during the summer in question. It was an all day affair that started first thing in the morning and continued well in to the night. There were a number of bands playing that tended to top both of our play lists. I really wanted to go, but the festival was on a weekday. I had just started my first job out of college, and I really had no way to take time off. Rose on the other hand had been hired as an elementary school teacher, and she didn't start working until August.
When I finally had to break it to her that I couldn't go, she was genuinely disappointed. What she said next however rapidly triggered my jealous streak. "I'm really sad that you aren't going to be able to go," she said. "I'll probably just go with Liz then."
Now, there were two problems with this statement. The first is that the festival in question is known for rowdy behavior. Women flash their breasts. There's a lot drinking (and probably not such a small amount of drug use), and there were even prior years where there were incidents of violence. I didn't expect Rose to seek these things out, but we all know that sometimes the problems in this type of situation find you.
The second problem was Liz. Liz was the opposite of innocent. The two of them were friends in college, but they were very different. Liz was a curvacious flirt with bleach blonde hair and D-cup breasts. She was frequently the life of the party. I'd personally seen her breasts on more than one occasion, as she frequently found an excuse to show them to just about anyone who would look after she'd had a few drinks. Worse, Rose had a tendency to follow along with Liz. Now, I'm not suggesting that she was out flashing her breasts or flirting with other men. Yet, whenever Rose had too much to drink or accidentally flashed her panties to some guy, Liz was frequently involved.
I fully admit I handled the next part poorly. I could have reasoned with her. I could have talked her in to avoiding the festival. Hell, I could have tried to talk her in to going with someone else, maybe even a friend of mine with some capacity to protect her. I did none of these things. Instead, I yelled. I insisted that it wasn't safe. I might have even referred to Liz as a slut or attention whore.
Needless to say, this went very poorly. Rose secured her ticket that day. There was no way I was ever going to talk her out of going now.
The next part of the story of course I learned afterward. A group of guys from one of the local college fraternities was also planning on attending the concert. This really wasn't a surprise, as probably every college student still in the area for the summer was going to be there. Hell, some probably took summer classes just to have an excuse to be there. It was a big deal.
As fraternity groups seem unable to just enjoy anything without doing something stupid, this group also apparently dared three of the youngest members to pull an asinine prank. They were to bring makeshift police uniforms and handcuffs. Before the night was over, they were supposed to each "arrest" someone.
As the group would later claim, this was really just supposed to be a stupid prank. They would need to bring the victim over to the rest of the group, where they would document the arrest in photographs and then let the victims go. How they were ultimately going to get away with it never really seemed to enter their psyches. They were a group of fraternity guys of course.
I was apprehensively getting ready for work the morning of the concert when I heard a knock at the door of our apartment. When I answered, there stood Liz. Rose came down the stairs. She was wearing a tight tank top and a pair of jean shorts. Hey, the tank top did not dip, I recognized a bra that fit properly by the straps, and the shorts were of sufficient length to avoid any likely exposure. Her belly was exposed, but that never really bothered me. This was in stark contrast to Liz who had on a white singlet that allowed her ass cheeks to poke out the bottom when she walked. You could tell she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breast bounced even as she walked in the door. The only thing the two women had in common was the choice of flip flops as footwear.
I was glad Rose was dressed the way she was. Liz was going to bring them both quite a bit of attention, and at least Rose wouldn't likely steal the show in a way I wouldn't like. That's what I thought anyway.
I kissed Rose as she walked out the door. She returned it, but still stared daggers at me. She was still a bit mad about our fight. That being said, I suspect that her choice of outfits was probably made with at least the thought of keeping me happy in mind.
Before I go further, I should probably clarify a couple of things. This is not a small music festival. It had completely taken over the fair grounds. There were multiple stages. Nearly every music reporter in the business was there. All the local news channels were there. There was a livestream that one could access from anywhere in the world. I was planning on watching myself after work. There were likely to be 100,000 people there on top of all of this.