The following two Saturdays I had to practically beg her to dress up and go out after I got home from work, and nothing happened other than her dancing with a few guys, and her allowing one guy to play with her tits out on the dance floor. Even then she avoided any kind of eye contact with me while they were dancing; and didn't talk to me on the drive home because she still couldn't believe that I really wanted her to have sex with some complete stranger. Again we talked about it all the next week and right up the when we left to attended her best friend Joan's wedding.As I mentioned earlier, Joan was also my wife's boss back then. She managed the local branch where my wife was assistant manager and head teller. As soon as we'd received the invitation we had booked a room at the Mission Inn, in Riverside, where the ceremony and reception were being held. Originally it was booked so that we wouldn't have to drive home late on the Saturday night after the reception. We were the only. If I called him on it, sure I would be right, but I would still be broke and now, I would be hairless also. This still didn't sit too well.The clothes were somewhat dressy. Dark dress pants with a sharply angled hem that extended the length of the back of the pant leg at least 2 inches. A snug fitting, white cotton scoop neck T-shirt with vertical ribs that looked like it would barely cover my new breasts. An obviously feminine, brightly colored windbreaker. Lying under the windbreaker, was a matching set of lacy black thong, support bra, garter belt, and stockings.On the floor were the shoes I was supposed to wear. They were more of a boot than shoe as they were black, had large, thick, 3-inch heels and pulled over the whole foot with a fake buckle on top.Making a sigh of disgust, I took the picture of me with my new hairstyle and headed into the bathroom to try and duplicate it. Using some of the mousse, a curling iron, and the blow dryer, I did as best I could. I had to wash it.
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