All characters are over 18, some far over.
With the end of the pandemic, Nashville's downtown streets were once again bustling with people that autumn. Paris had never spent any time there, so, on a whim, he decided to explore the Music City.
Having acquired boots, jeans, a plaid shirt and a big-brimmed black western hat he fancied, he made his way through the crowds on Lower Broadway that evening. When he came to the lavender-painted façade of Tootsies Orchid Lounge, he hesitated because the name and décor made the place look like a gay bar. But the information he'd seen online assured him the joint was a Nashville institution, so he pushed through the people milling around the entrance.
The band at one end of the room was playing a cover of a country standard, and the patrons were singing the chorus in full voice. After listening a minute, Paris decided not to drink at the bar, so he headed toward the backroom up a short flight of stairs. It was slightly less noisy there, and he was lucky enough to find a table where he could sit and take in his surroundings. A single performer perched on a stool was playing a love song on his guitar, and Paris was glad for the lower volume.
A waitress arrived at his table and he ordered a beer. Once she'd delivered it, he leaned back and looked around, curious to see what kind of people the place attracted. As he scanned the room, he noticed a woman standing to one side who seemed to be staring at him intently. She wasn't beautiful and she wasn't young, but she was certainly attractive, Paris decided. Politely, he continued his visual survey of the room, but when his eyes returned to her, he found she was still focused on him.
This time he let his gaze linger.
Late thirties, maybe forty
, he guessed,
but she's kept in shape.
Almost certainly she'd never had any kids, he decided. Her clothing was a little more stylish than what most of the other women were wearing, and while her dress wasn't slutty, it definitely showed her cleavage well.
Abruptly she walked over to his table. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
"No, Ma'am," he said as he stood, emulating the southern accent and chivalrous manners he'd noted while in town. "I'm Paris, and I'd be happy to have your company."
"Thank you for being such a gentleman. I'm Mindy," she replied, shaking his hand.
After Mindy was seated, the waitress reappeared, and Paris offered to buy his new companion a drink. She asked for a glass of white wine, and the waitress quickly brought one.
Now that she was seated, the woman seemed oddly uncomfortable. "I saw you come in," she began, peering down at the table, "and I thought perhaps . . ." She interrupted herself to take a healthy sip from her glass, then tried again. "We . . . that is, I'm from out of town, and I thought . . ." Abruptly an expression of embarrassment mixed with anger crossed her face, and she motioned vigorously to a man near the stairs. When the stranger hurried over, Mindy set her glass down. "I have to go to the ladies' room - you talk to him!" With that she scurried away like a guilty child trying to avoid punishment.
The man sat down and extended his right hand, which Paris cautiously shook. "Sorry about that," the man apologized. "She's just a little . . . Anyway, I'm Henry, and . . ." He stopped himself again. "Listen, do you think Mindy is attractive?"
Paris stared at the man with distaste. "You're her pimp?"
"No, no, absolutely not!" the man said hastily, waving his hands as if to fend off the idea. "Mindy is my wife."
Paris sat up straight and then leaned menacingly over the table. "Listen, mister, I didn't come on to her. She came over here and asked to sit at my table. So if you're . . ."
The man's hands were waving again. "No, no, you don't understand. This is just a little game we play. She looks for an attractive man, and if he agrees, we all go up to our hotel room and the two of you have a little fun together, that's all."
Paris sat back in his chair and stared at the man, who sat anxiously awaiting his response. Paris, of course, knew exactly what the man was proposing, but he'd never actually encountered a cuckold situation before. He tried not to show his distaste, but before he could say anything, Henry spoke up. "You have to understand, this is not for me, it's for her. I want her to have the chance to experience someone new, give her a special treat while we're on vacation. You can understand that."
Bullshit!
Paris thought to himself.
You don't give a damn about your wife's experience. You just want to get off on seeing her with another man.
He looked carefully at the eager little man and decided to teach him a lesson.
At that moment, Mindy emerged from the ladies' room and walked over to them, her eyes cast down, a blush on her cheeks. Paris rose from his seat, reached out for her hand and smoothly brought it to his lips to kiss. "Mindy," he said gallantly, "Henry has explained everything. I'd love to accompany you this evening. Shall we get going?"
The wife glanced over to see her husband grin and nod in relief. She drew a quick breath and then look looked up at Paris. "Thank you," she said, and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. Henry quickly threw a bill onto the table and the three of them strolled out of Tootsies.
The walk to the hotel took little time, and soon they were riding up in the elevator. Henry stepped back, obviously hoping to watch some titillating interaction, but Paris had no intention of putting on a show for the eager husband. Instead he continued to make small talk with Mindy, and it was obvious that she appreciated his discretion.
