"You're being uncharacteristically quiet."
Barbara made the observation as Harry drove through the dark, nearly empty streets. They were on their way home from a "required" social function that neither had wanted to attend, but which Barbara found she had rather enjoyed. Harry hadn't spoken since they had entered the car. He glanced over at his wife, who was looking at him questioningly. He turned his eyes back to the rain-drenched pavement.
"I've spent the past four hours wanting to tear that dress off your body!" he finally growled. His vehemence surprised Barbara. She had no doubt he was telling the truth.
"If you felt that strongly about it, what stopped you?" she asked, then immediately wished she hadn't. She hadn't meant to challenge him, but that's what it sounded like, she realized. Harry chewed her remark over for a while. It wasn't like her to be catty. He decided to answer her straight out.
"We have an agreement, remember?"
They were both silent for a while. Some time ago, when their marriage had been in difficulty, Harry had introduced Barbara to exhibitionism, which she found to her surprise to be remarkably stimulating. For several months Harry had found ways to show her off in public, and she had willingly, even eagerly, allowed him to do so. She had begun to explore this side of herself independently as well. Eventually, though, she had come to feel that things had gone too far. She had set some rules and restrictions which Harry had accepted, however reluctantly. In short, she had put herself in charge, and after that their "adventures" had become less frequent, less exciting, less spontaneous, until finally they had drifted back into the dull routines of everyday life, abandoning any "showing off."
Barbara suddenly realized that she had forgotten how exciting that time had been and how good things between them were during that part of their married life. She could also tell by the vehemence in Harry's voice that he resented the restrictions she had imposed, although he had never mentioned it to her before. All this must have been pent up inside him and growing into a barely contained fury which had only begun to be released with what he had said.
"If you can find a bar open anywhere, Harry, I think I need a drink, please." Harry's face was grim, but he nodded. He drove for several blocks and turned a few times. It was late, but there were a few places still open. Finding a place that was suitable for a couple in semi-formal clothes might take some looking, but he thought he could find at least one. At last he spotted a place that looked clean from the outside, with a few late model cars parked in the adjacent lot. Harry pulled into the lot and cut the engine.
Inside, they paused briefly to look the place over. Two of the tables were occupied by young couples; two older men sat at a third. A few men sat at the bar near the door. There was one barman. The waitress, if there had been one, was nowhere to be seen. The barman could easily handle the orders of the few customers. It was well after midnight; the place probably closed at one, or perhaps two, depending on the trade.
Barbara led Harry to the far end of the bar and arranged herself on the padded stool farthest from the door. Harry took the seat next to her. The stools had low backs, which made them quite comfortable, Harry found. The barman drifted down to their end of the bar and Barbara ordered a Margarita while Harry asked for a single-malt Scotch on the rocks. After their drinks arrived, Harry turned to Barbara.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that." He looked Barbara up and down while he was apologizing in a way which belied his words. Barbara was wearing the simplest of little black dresses, a spaghetti-strap cocktail sheath cut straight across the bodice and straight across the hem at the knee. It was just so damned ordinary! It showed nothing, hinted at nothing, of what was underneath, and Barbara had a terrific figure. The dress may have been perfectly suitable for the social evening they had attended, but damn it all!
"You meant what you said," Barbara replied, "you shouldn't apologize for telling the truth."
