The Award

The door to the kitchen was barely cracked. Just enough for me to watch. Watch the man my wife had accompanied to the annual awards banquet for her professional field. Watch him undress her. Watch her permit him such an intimate act most wives reserve for their husbands. Most wives, that is, whose husbands weren’t sissies. Who weren’t, at this very moment, dressed in a French maid dress, six inch heels, and a blonde wig, watching their wives about to be fucked by another man. Or, should I say, by a man?