I knew I was in trouble. I should have been home six hours ago. It was already 11:00, and I knew Patrick would be worried. I started to think of a good excuse, a story I could tell him that he would believe. Car trouble came to mind, but he’d ask why I hadn’t called him on the car phone. I looked in my purse. Damn! He’d paged me three times. I didn’t have my beeper with me most of the evening. I left it in the car. Now what could I tell my husband. He was a very understanding man, but there are limits to anyone’s patience. And I knew I was pushing his. It really wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t home yet. I recalled the events of the evening, the events which lead up to my being twenty miles from home, driving in the middle of the night, and in deep trouble with my husband.
I had been shopping for a new dress. Patrick was going to take me to an important dinner Saturday, and he told me to buy a nice outfit, conservative, yet sexy. That’s the way he is. He wants me to be nice and cool, yet bad and hot. I don’t mind, but he usually wants it at the same time. I couldn’t decide which dress to buy. I’d narrowed the field down to three, one was very nice, you know the type, almost a Sunday-go-to- meeting frock. The second was a bit more flashy and I knew Patrick would like it, but I wasn’t crazy about it myself. It was red, cut low in the back, but I felt it was a tad too long for my tastes.
Now, the third dress, was my favorite. It was black, (always a good color to bring out my auburn red hair) and was cut tight across the waist, accenting my 38DD bust and literally hugging my hips. It wrapped around me and fastened with a single button on the side. As I walked in it, my legs were flashed, first one and then the other. It was a traffic stopper, and I really liked the way it felt! But I could never wear it to a dinner where my husband was the guest speaker. It was more of a “fuck me-fuck me,” type dress. I knew Patrick would like it, but it didn’t fill the bill I was looking for.
After spending almost two hours trying to make up my mind, I figured, what the hell, and took all three. Of course, I had to have some new accessories, and that meant shoes and purses to match. That’s were the trouble started. To begin with, I ran my hose. Not a little run, either. No, this was the mother of all runs. My panty hose were ruined! This wasn’t a real problem, because I figured I’d just pick up a couple pair of shoes, leave the mall and head home. I took off the ruined pair of hose in the dressing room where I was trying on the three dresses, (remember them?) and left them in the trash. Wouldn’t you know it, of all the days not to have panties on, this would be it!
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