"All right, Lucy, how do I choose and what do I do?"
"Choosing is easy once you realise that just about all anonymous cocks are the same. Do what I do, take your panties off right now, scrunch them in your hand, walk back out and when you see a guy who isn't repulsive and who has bought you a drink, give him the panties. He'll get the idea. You can leave all the logistics of where you fuck up to him to sort out. Did you buy condoms like I suggested?"
"Yeah, I bought them a week ago."
I heard Lucy stand in her cubicle then heard a shuffling before I saw the flash of lace of her panties beneath the barrier between the cubicles. Reminding myself that I deserved this and it was perfectly safe, I followed suit. Gazing at the silky underwear in my hand, a feeling of power came over me. One guy was going to get very lucky tonight and exactly who that would be was entirely in my hands, literally.
Flushing and stepping out of the cubicle, Lucy and I high-fived and she gave me a quiet, "You go, girl", before leading me back out to the meat market.
Concealing my panties in my hand, I searched the dim room for the tall guy with the neatly trimmed beard whose package had felt quite decent when he rubbed it against my leg while we were dancing earlier. Goodie, he seemed to be one of the ones waiting for me and Lucy outside.
Girding my nerve, I stepped toward him. I used my left hand to grab his right and turn it to prepare it to accept my gift. I wanted to make a show of it. I hoped he sniffed them before taking me wherever he chose and doing whatever he liked to me. Maybe, I could get his number afterward and ask if he had a friend who could join us tomorrow night, the last that Dave was supposed to be away.
Even in the dim lighting I saw his eyes light up when he realised what I was holding. His hand lifted out of mine, moving of its own volition to accept my gift which I dropped into his palm.
Suddenly, a large presence inserted itself between us. A muscled arm appeared from out of nowhere and grabbed my panties. Something else was dropped into my would-be lover's now empty palm by the unknown person's spare left hand. I looked down at it and saw it was a man's wedding ring, the gold glinting in the faint light. Instinctively, I retrieved it, clenching my fist around it and looked up.
There was Dave, looking at me with an expression of hurt but determination on his face. He was there and ready, so he must have known not only what we were up to but also about the whole panty thing. Later, I thought of all the hurtful things he could have said right then. Called me a slut, a whore, publicly shamed or humiliated me, all sorts of things. All kinds of things would have been better than what he actually did say. "A fair swap, I think."
With a shake of his head, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with the knowledge of what he considered the worth of our marriage.
A used pair of silk panties.
The End
Now lighten the fuck up!
The most effective way to remember your wife's birthday is to forget it once. -- Nash.
