My wife and I have a tradition: every second Saturday is our date night at the local college bar. I signaled to me favorite bartender -- the one with a significantly lower-cut shirt than the others -- ordered our drinks and surveyed the crowd. In the middle of the bar was an obnoxious bunch of moderately drunk bros, a few of them with stereotypically slutty girls hanging off their arms. The corners were occupied by jersey-clad fans commiserating over the afternoon's loss, and a smattering of various small friend groups populated the rest of the place. The night was still young.
I settled into my stool as Liz complained about her incompetent coworker, but my interest was piqued when the door opened and a group of young women walked in, an array of short skirts and well-fitted tops. They were too old to be coeds, but not boisterous enough to be a bachelorette party. I concealed a smile when they made their way over to our end of the bar, and pretended not to notice when the most attractive one sat on the stool behind Liz.
A half hour went by while we talked and finished our drinks, and I stole more than a few glances over Liz's shoulder. The woman wore a dark purple dress with a neckline that revealed more of her ample breasts than it concealed. Liz turned to grab our new glasses from the bar, and finally seeing her neighbor, blurted out, "Woah, those are huge boobs!"
My wife usually has a poor filter, but this was surprising even for her. I maintained a passive face while waiting to see which way this went. Luckily, instead of getting upset at the random and obscene interruption, the woman flashed a big smile and replied "Thank you! They're all natural!"
Liz's face turned red as she realized what had happened. "Sorry, that was totally random and awkward. I just turned around and BAM! There they were. Kinda took my by surprise." She laughed nervously, still trying to recover. "They look nice though. Very soft-looking."
"Aw, thank you. And I have to say yours are looking pretty nice, too. Pert and perky!" The woman's eyes lingered on Liz's blue button-down blouse. It was a favorite of mine because it hugged tight to her curves -- something our new friend apparently appreciated, too. "I'm Julia."
"Thanks," Liz laughed, motioning to her own chest. "I grew them myself! I'm Liz, and this is my husband, Patrick."
"It's nice to meet you both, though I'm surprised to see a married couple at the college bar." We told her about our monthly date nights, and our occasional voyeuristic indulgence of watching the undergrads drunkenly fondle each other on the dance floor. "That sounds like fun," Julia said. "I'm here with some of my coworkers, though to be honest, you two sound more interesting than they are. You can imagine how boring the same old work stories get after a while."
We chatted for a while, and I did my best to keep my eyes from dipping below face-level too often. At one point, I thought Julia caught me staring, but instead of covering herself up, she leaned forward slightly to give me a better view. And maybe I was imagining it, but she seemed a little handsy with Liz, too. Nothing too obvious, but she kept placing a hand on my wife's arm or shoulder. Liz didn't seem to notice, especially not after her second -- or was it her third? -- drink disappeared.
After a while, Liz got up to use the restroom, and Julia followed, giving me a wink as she rose from her stool. I watched them both go, my eyes flicking between my wife's round ass and Julia's slender legs. This was certainly shaping up to be an entertaining night, though I wasn't sure exactly where it was going from here. Julia was definitely hot, and Liz seemed to like her well enough not to get jealous on those times when she caught me staring. I could tell she was having fun, but what would that translate to when we got home?
