I'd known David for a long time; we were at school together. We'd always been the best of friends and we look so similar that we have often been mistaken for brothers. But there's one big difference between us; while I have stayed single, Dave married his long-term girlfriend, Gina.
Now Gina is a lovely girl. She has long dark hair that frames a pretty face and a nice trim figure. There's definitely a little bit of Italian in her – from her errant fathers' side I think – and this shows most in her fiery temperament. Dave and Gina had been trying to get pregnant for many months without success, and this had not improved her mood; everything that went wrong was Dave's fault – or mine, if I was around – and, to be fair, the constant aggravation was beginning to wear a bit thin.
It was a Saturday night and, as usual, Dave and I had imbibed of a few alcoholic beverages at our local bar. He'd told me that Gina was also going out – a "girls night" as he'd described it, and I hoped that when we both returned to his house for a nightcap, that her evenings' entertainment would have put her in a good mood for a change.
Both Dave and I sighed exhaustedly as we entered his house to the usual sounds of complaint from Gina.
"What time do you call this?" She chastised us. "Where have you been? Who have you been with? How much have you had to drink?"
The tirade of questions seemed endless.
But there was a subtle difference in Gina's voice. It was as hard and as patronising as usual, but there was a lilt or possibly a slur to her words. It suddenly dawned on me that the Dave's usually very sober wife had drunk a few too many glasses of Chianti!
Doing his best to ignore her accusing eyes, Dave fetched two beers from the fridge and we both slumped down in the lounge to enjoy them. Gina was up in a second, her hands on her hips and yelling at my friend.
"So, where's my drink then?"
I was a little surprised to say the least. Apart from the occasional half glass of wine with dinner, I'd never known Gina to drink at home before. Dave looked surprised too but trooped back out to the kitchen and poured out a glass of red wine for his wife. Gina downed the drink in one gulp before continuing her harangue. The diatribe lasted a full five minutes with her words becoming more and more slurred with each sentence. Eventually she seemed to have finished and slumped – rather unceremoniously – onto the sofa.
"Oh, and I need some more money as well." She said as if an afterthought. "There's not a scrap of food in the house!"
Up until that point, Dave had taken her rantings in his usual calm, collected manner. But as I looked at him then, his eyes seemed to glass over and a red flush drifted over his previously serene expression.
"Christ, Gina!" He almost exploded, "don't you ever stop? Can't you give it a rest for just a few minutes?"
Gina looked dumbfounded. I don't think that her husband had ever answered her back so vehemently. I too had never seen Dave like this, maybe he'd taken just one too many accusations.
Without so much as a word, Dave fished in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of bank notes.
"There are girls that will do a hell of a lot more than just talk to get this sort of cash." He said coolly.
"What? What are you talking about now?" Gina replied.
"You want this?" He said waving the cash in front of her nose, "You better earn it!"
In a flash, Dave had pulled at the front of Gina's white dress, popping half of the buttons down the front, leaving the garment gaping open and her white lacy bra exposed. I could hardly believe what I was seeing; perhaps it was the booze talking but neither Dave or Gina seemed likely to back down.
"What about him?" Gina stated indicating yours truly sitting behind her on the sofa.
"Frank has had to put up with your complaining for far too long as well." Dave replied as he pushed the notes into her bra, stripper style. He looked over at me. "Come on, mate. If I'm going to give her this cash she's going to have to show us her tits!"
Gina pouted. There was no way she could back down now without looking weak and, from the fiery look in her eyes, it was clear that was something that was most definitely not going to happen.
Slowly and with a wicked sort of grin on her face, Gina pulled the wad of cash out of her bra and pressed it to her lips kissing it.
