Boys' Night Out in 750 Words

This is an entry into the

750 Word Project 2024

.

Another 750 mini to tantalize your imagination and/or ire. It gets worse--it's an RWC (reconciliation without the cost). Ugh... can life get any worse? Yes, the story ends at the point where same old, same old takes over. If anybody wants to FTDS, go for it. In fact, you can make it a BTB if you want. If not, there are thousands of other stories to slake your thirst, all that stands between you and a night of bliss is a Back key. :)

The first time Brenda went out with the girls, I thought nothing of it. She was back by 10:30, tipsy, giggly and, best of all, horny. Same thing the next time. Nice.

The third time, though, she came back after midnight, in the same state as before, with two differences: a whiff of men's cologne... and no nookies. Not nice.

Oh no, I decided. Knowing Brenda, I didn't bother bringing it up. All I'd get was an argument. But...

Before she announced the next Friday night GNO, I called my brother, Nick, and shared my concerns. Always the adventurous one, he came up with a strategy. We'd have a Boys' Night Out Friday, and replicate what we suspected they were doing.

When Brenda came down the stairs Friday night, she didn't wear the same "friends with friends" outfit of the previous weeks. This was her LBD, complete with golden earrings, necklace and CFM pumps.

I'd anticipated that, and waited at the bottom landing, nonchalant and dressed like the guys trolling for married women in clubs.

Eyebrows raised, she took a few moments to get her words straight. "Where the hell are you going dressed like that?"

"Exactly what I was gonna ask you." Purposely, I kept a 'don't care' grin on my face. "You never used to dress like that before.

"I'm not gonna argue, and so, like you, I'm going fishing for the next phase of my life. If you think I'm just gonna sit here at home burping and farting, wondering who's running his dick through your slit, you've got another think coming. Sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander."

"What are you talking about? All I'm doing is going out with girls you know."

"Dressed like that?" I pointed to my eye. "This may be green, but it ain't cabbage. No girl dresses like that for other girls. Your outfit flashes in neon 'looking for a man.'"

Her fear turned to anger. "Don't you trust me?"

"Don't you trust

me?

Us boys gonna hang out and--"

"Dressed like that?" She pointed at my attire.

"Uh huh. All I'm doing is following your lead. You have three options: 1. Stay at home with me and reconnect, 2. You and I go out to dinner and dancing, like happily married couples do, or 3. You go out with your 'friends,' rub yourself against whoever thinks you're sexy, come home after midnight, and deny me nookies like last week.

"Options 1 and 2, I'll be with you. Option 3, I'm on my own and who knows what will happen? You're banking that no attractive woman will want to dance with me, and when one does, I will forget about last week. You may be right, or you may be wrong. It's all up to you, and the outcome will be your making. Your dress screams option 3. I'm not going to say be sure to use condoms, because it won't matter."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"We'll be divorced. Why would I care if you allow your insides to rot?"

"Oh come on, you're gonna divorce me over going out with the girls?"

"Don't forget--this is a no-fault state. All I need is, 'I don't want to be married to you any longer.' Your choice is making that an easy decision."

Before she could respond, I was out the door, in my truck and on my way to Nick. Before I left, I texted my boss's admin assistant, Julie, who'd been flirting with me since forever.

Wife left me. Wanna meet up at Huxley's? Bring 2 friends.

When Brady arrived, the three of us took off.

Julie arrived ten minutes after us, with two attractive friends. The six of us had a whale of time, with all the excitement of newfound friends.

At my instigation, Nick took a picture of Julie and I dancing very close and swapping serious spit, and showing her big Brahma bunches prominently, which he texted to Brenda.

Why did you toss this man out? He loved you.

After a great evening, the six of us said goodnight.

I got home just after eleven, to a Brenda already showered, in her pajamas and in tears. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

"You were right." She looked down. "Mitch had a motel room booked. When he told me, I immediately got an Uber and came home. I got Nick's text."

She lifted her tear-filled eyes to me. "I'm an idiot. You're the only man I want."