“I beg your pardon? Show our waiter what?”
“Go on. It’ll make the guy’s night.”
“More likely get us thrown out.”
“Nonsense. Every man has fantasies of a woman flashing him. C’mon, make his come true.”
“I don’t know. He’ll blab to the whole staff. What would they think of you? You’re my husband for chrissakes.”
“They don’t know that. Maybe I’m your pimp.”
“Pimp? Is that why you had me dress this way?”
“You sure came through in that regard, baby. Wow, you look super.”
“Even buying this stuff was embarrassing. You deleted those selfies from the dressing room, right?”
“I wanted to be sure you bought hot stuff. Things that look best on you.”
“Best? This skirt hardly covers my ass. And sitting here, it’s creeping up.”
“Can the waiter see? Can he see your underwear?
“I didn’t wear any.”
“Really? Even better. Give him a show. He sure looked interested when he took our order. I caught him peeking down your top. His eyes dilated.”
“You know there’s got to be a line in all this. A line I won’t cross. I just wish your turn-ons weren’t so dangerous.”
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