"They stink at free throws!"
That was the start of this adventure. Kind of unexpected to tell the truth. When our group gets together we often make silly bets with weird payouts. We're all generally too poor and cheap to make bets about cash, so we like to come up with dares or actions or sometimes even chores the loser has to do. One time I had to wash a buddy's car. Mike had to prank call his boss (yes, we were smart enough to use a pay phone, which you can actually still find sometimes). Timmy had the worst one so far. He was so sure he was right about Kerry beating Bush in 2004 that he had to do a 5k running race wearing nothing but a Speedo, a cape, and his shoes. He did end up writing in marker on his chest "yes, I lost a bet" so that people would stop asking about it. He actually made the paper with his outfit, which is when he realized he should have worn a batman mask as well. Copies of the newspaper picture kept showing up in his office for years.
Normally, it is just the guys of the group that are dumb enough to put in for the bets. Sometimes though, one of the girls gets adventurous or drunk or confident enough to lay one down. Mike's wife, Katie, had to take over carpool service for Julie's week. Whenever a girl was crazy enough to bet with a guy there was always some type of sexual subtext. Or at least an attempt at it. Usually, they wouldn't agree to the bet and the few times they did they ended up winning and the guy had to do something stupid, like sing his undying love to her at a karaoke bar. But, as all stories here demonstrate, things often take strange and unexpected turns.
My wife, Sharon, went to Kentucky which, if you recall, had a spectacular basketball team in the 2009-2010 season and they were expected to breeze easily through the tournament and play Kansas in the final. Jason, however, went to West Virginia. During a night out, with plenty of drinking, Sharon was shooting her mouth off about how Kentucky was the winningest hoops program ever and all that stuff. All of us were getting sick of it but Jason was really having none of it. He kept saying how Huggins would coach WV over Kentucky even though WV had far less talent and clearly less history but she would get in his face about John Wall carrying everything. Finally, he had had enough and told her to put her money where her mouth is.
The room actually got pretty quiet at that point. Most of us were pretty lit and we all knew what a male-female bet would be like. Sharon didn't even hesitate about the bet. She said that Jason would have to clean our house when Kentucky won. I'm not sure why, but she thought the bet would be even. Actually, I don't believe she thought there was a chance she would lose the bet. So, she nodded when Jason said she would have to clean his apartment. But then he dropped the bomb everyone else was expecting. If Kentucky and Sharon lost, he said, she would have to clean his apartment while wearing a French Maid outfit he would pick out from the costume shop.
As a little back story, our group is mostly made up of players from our coed softball team, with a few spouses and other hangers on. Most of us are in our late 20s or early 30s, with a few older guys who lend stability to the softball team. About half of us are married. Sharon and I had both turned 30 in the last year and neither of us was happy that our youths were slipping away. Both of us were working harder than ever, and needing to blow off steam every once in a while. For years I had been trying to get Sharon to dress a little sexier but she had resisted most of my efforts. Until we turned 30 that is. I think she realized she might not ever be able to dress sexy if she didn't do it now. Either that or she realized that she enjoyed the attention she got from me and others when we went out and she wore a low-cut shirt, or short-shorts. Every once in a while she would agree to wear a tight shirt that allowed for her pert nipples to poke through.
For the past few months she had been flirting much more often than normal. I used to think that I would be jealous about a girlfriend or wife that flirted with other guys. But once it started to happen I had to admit that I was really turned on. She had been particularly flirtatious with Jason over the past few months. During a party at his house she had some bread crumbs on her shirt and managed to talk him into plucking them off. The tight shirt with no bra left little to the imagination that night and her nipples were showing off. Jason did his best to pluck off the crumbs and made little or no contact, but it was a great sight. At the time, I was extremely conflicted. On the one hand, I was hurt and jealous that my wife was encouraging another guy to touch her breasts. On the other hand, my cock would get hard every time I thought about the event. The more I thought about it the more I came to terms with how I felt and how I actually wanted things to go further. What would it be like if one of the guys saw her tits? What would be like if they saw her naked? What would it be like if things went further?
The more I thought about it the more I got worked up. Finally, I had no choice but to let her know how I felt. I was scared to think what she would say. I'm not sure if I was more scared that she would call me a pervert or that she would jump at the chance to mess around with other guys. At first, I just kind of joked around about how it would be funny if she lost her top when we went to the beach and some of the guys saw her tits. She kind of chuckled at that. But she got kind of thoughtful. And we had amazing sex that night.
Back to the bet -- Well, if you're a college hoops fan you already know that WV upset Kentucky in the tournament. Like any good fan, Sharon was beside herself. She puts so much into her support for the team that she sometimes gets depressed when they lose in a situation like that. With this loss though, she didn't have time to be depressed, because Jason was on her as soon as the buzzer sounded.
"Oooooohhhhhh! This is going to be so great! My apartment is a mess and it needs a really good cleaning."
"I, I, I. well shit." Sharon's face was scrunched up pretty seriously at this point. I couldn't tell if she was more peeved about the game, losing the bet, or having to clean someone else's place.
"Saturday for the final four would be a great time to clean the place. Let's all party at my apartment! Sharon is going to do the cleaning! And she'll be in a French maid outfit kids."
Sharon flushed in embarrassment, but, because I know her, I could tell she was a bit excited about the whole thing. She put her hand on my thigh under the table and gave me a squeeze. Lately, she would quickly move her hand away, but now she was leaving it there, slowing moving her fingers in slow circles. Kind of like we used to do back when we were dating.
"Look Jason. You've seen our house. I'm not very good at cleaning," she mumbled. "Don't expect miracles."
"Oh honey," Jason replied. "It is only a little about the cleaning," he said with a glint in his eye. Sharon's hand moved further up my thigh, getting dangerously close to intimate contact. Already, it wouldn't be appropriate for me to stand.
During the drive home that night Sharon kept wringing her hands. I could tell she was fretting about the bet, but actually afraid that if I talked to her about it she would come up with some reason not to follow through. Which would be a huge disappointment. Finally, after long enough, I asked her what she was thinking about.
"I'm pissed!" That's not really what I thought her response would be, and my first inclination was that she was mad at me for doing or not doing something, or saying or not saying something. "I can't believe my Cats lost. I feel like there is an empty spot in my heart. Several of those guys are seniors and will never get to play another game." To be honest, I had almost forgotten about the game, immersing myself in the bet. But I patted her leg and consoled her as best I could. I love college basketball, but my alma mater hasn't been in the Final Four since before I was born and have only made the tourney a few times since. It is just tough to get emotionally involved in a team like that. But when your team is always in contention, and expected to win, losing in an upset like that is heartbreaking.
"You don't think Jason will make me watch the Final Four do you? I don't think I can stomach watching another game so soon."
"Well, maybe you won't have to watch the game since you'll be busy cleaning." Good God, that was probably the worst thing to say. Not supportive, and a reminder of the bet. She hates cleaning. Before I even finished the sentence her head whipped around so fast her hair flew up.
I'm going to spare you the argument, but I think it is clear that nothing sexy happened the rest of that night.
As the week rolled on, a strong weather system started building. That's important, because almost all of us are in some sort of emergency management job. The big party for Final Four night steadily got smaller and smaller as everyone got called into some sort of duty. By Thursday, we were down to Jason, Sharon, myself, and Jason's roommate Pete. And then I got the call. I had to head to Charlotte, about three hours away for a day or so. With the games on Saturday, it wasn't clear if I would be released to come back. But the bet wasn't with me, it was between Jason and Sharon and neither of them had any relation to the emergency roles. I actually started getting nervous about the conversation Jason and I had when Sharon wasn't around. He asked how risqué he could get with the outfit Sharon would have to wear. After thinking about it a bit, I told him to get something as risqué as he could find.
Sharon and I had joked about costumes like this before, and I had pointed out things like this when we were looking for Halloween costumes. She never really jumped at the idea and the department store costumes were sexy, but not any more outlandish than you would see on a network TV show. Either way, when Sharon learned I might not be there for the game she was beside herself and we had to have a chat.
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," she told me.
"I'm not sure about it either. But a bet is a bet. I'm going to try to get back for the game. Just be cool. Heck, you don't even have to be in the same room with the guys if you don't want to." I was as much talking myself into it as I was Sharon.
In the end, we agreed that she had to go through with paying off the bet. And I would do everything I could to get back for the game.
When Saturday rolled around I really was stuck in Charlotte, hoping for a reprieve from the weather and potential crisis. If I could get out by six I could make it for the start of the game, but it was clear I wouldn't be there for any pre-game activity. Sharon's agreement required her to arrive at 8 and put in an hour of cleaning before the late game.
Fortunately, the weather cooperated and I was released from duty at 6. With some luck, I could get back in time for tip-off. I wouldn't be there for the cleaning, but Sharon was supposed to wear the costume through the game and get people chips and beer when they needed. I also had another plan.
"I'm just getting out of here now. I should be there in time for the second half," I told her over the phone. I had actually gotten out an hour earlier and pulled over to the side of the road to call.
"Second half? Are you serious? I have to be there by myself for 2 hours before you get there? I don't know if I can do this."
"Look. We've been through this before. You have to do this. And we can trust Jason and Pete. We've known them for years. You'll be fine. It will be fun. And I'll be there soon. I can't wait to see you in that outfit anyway."
A pause on the other end of the line was long enough I looked at my phone to see if the call dropped. "You still there?" I asked.
"Yeah. But I think I have something to tell you." She may, at this point, have actually heard my eyebrows rising at this.
"Go ahead."
"Well, I don't know how to say this."
"Just say it Sharon. What's wrong?"
