This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18 or older.
"Jerry, what are we going to do for Valentine's Day?"
I was suddenly reminded Valentine's Day was a week away. But I was surprised by the reminder since Karen and I have been deemphasizing that day more and more each year. During the two years we were "courting", as a typical male I assumed it was a big deal to Karen and I emphasized it. Usually a nice meal and then to my place for a fuck. By our 2nd Valentines Day "my" place was "our" place. When we married three years ago, our Valentine's Day became my preparing her a nice meal and our usual fuck, then ordering out for Chinese and the end of the night fuck. By last year it became leftovers and we dispenses with the fuck because we were both "tired" with big days the next day at work.
"I didn't think we made too much of the day lately, so I hadn't planned anything in particular."
"Well, maybe we need to ignite the spark again like we did in 'the old days'."
"Yea, granny, like the old days 5 years ago."
"Be serious. I want to do something special this year."
"Do you have anything in mind in particular?"
"I want to go dancing."
Karen knew I hate to dance. But it was her special day; and I love my wife. Karen loves to dance, and she is a great dancer. I, on the other hand, am the world's worse dancer, and, consequently, I hate to dance. When we were dating we worked out a relationship where whenever we wanted to go dancing we would go the the Club 869. It was located at 869 Oak St. It was in a beautiful converted old warehouse. The crowd was mixed, about 1/3 gay men, 1/3 lesbians and 1/3 gawkers like us out for a night of slumming it. The gay men loved dancing with Karen, and, heck, they were doing me a favor. As long as they were entertaining her I didn't have to worry about embarrassing myself on the dance floor. Very, very rarely would one of the lesbians ask her to dance. I guess she didn't give out that vibe.
"Do you want to go back to the 869?", I asked, already sure of the answer.
"Sure, unless you know of someplace better."
"Well, I haven't exactly been trolling the gay bars since we've been married."
It was decided. Valentine's Night, we each dressed. I wore a suit and Karen wore a scarlet red cocktail dress that strategically exposed her legs and a good part of her breast. She had matching red lip gloss and nails. I told her she looked like a French whore, a high class french whore, but a whore none the less. She laughed and I knew I had not overstepped my bounds.
We enjoyed supper at the Fado, and capped it off with cognac and a couple of fine cohiba cigars. Yes, Karen joined me. Neither of us smoke, but we both really enjoy a good post-prandial cigar. I think a woman really looks sexy when she smokes a cigar and I told her the cigar adds to her French whore look. She coquettishly laughed again. The wine (most of which Karen consumed) and the cognac would be my first and last drink I would have during the evening as I said I would be the designated driver.
Before we departed for Club 869, I took Karen's hand. She had had a lot of liquor but I didn't feel I was taking advantage of her since I knew the exhibitionist in her would respond positively to what I was about to command her even if she was as sober as a judge. "I want you to take off your panties." She smiled at me.
"Tell me why."
"I know when we get to the club, some hands will be wandering and I want them to feel your hot hot flesh without any filters."
"Jerry, you know everyone I dance with will be gay. I don't think feeling my ass will get their motors running."
"Maybe there'll be some bi's there. Who knows, there may be some straight men who are just in search of their sexual identity."
"And you hope they will find it between my butt cheeks?"
"Who knows you could turn them and eliminate from them all doubts."
She smiled again. "Will you excuse me while I go the the ladies room?"
"No, take them off here." Her smile broadened as she reached under the hem of her dress. It didn't take much effort, but she tugged on her panties and removed them. I think two of the couples two tables away from us figured out exactly what she was doing. I smiled at them and told Karen to turn around and acknowledge their stares. She did. And then she took her panties and twirled them around her finger. She thus removed any doubt that may have existed in half the restaurant as to what she was doing. There was a little polite applause. I'm sure that must have been a conversation starter for the few people in the restaurant who weren't aware of what was going on.
We got up to leave. Karen said, "Wait, I have to pee."