My wife’s eyes had that look, burning hot.
“Take off my blouse.”
I did as she said and took off her blouse.
Then she said, “Take off my skirt.”
I slid down the zipper and let her skirt drop.
“Take off my shoes.”
Once again, I did as she commanded and slipped off her shoes.
“Now my hose. My bra. My panties.”
I flung each to the floor.
Face to face, the air between us crackling, our eyes locked.
She poked a sharp, red-taloned finger in my chest.
“I don’t ever want to catch you wearing my things again. Understood?”
