My Wife’s Panties
“What the hell is that?” Layce asked. We were standing in the produce aisle at the grocery store. I was picking out apples.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, focusing on the bag of apples to vet the squishy ones.
She pointed at my neckline. I put the bag of apples down and felt where she was pointing. “WTF,” I said.
I pulled on an errant piece of fabric. I felt like a magician pulling a scarf out of his sleeve, but in this case it wasn’t a scarf. It was a pair of panties. I had been wearing a pair of panties around my neck! My wife’s panties to be exact.
I held the panties out in front of me. The produce guy smirked.
Layce gawped. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Fucking static cling! I can’t believe you let me go out like this! We’re married. You’re supposed to check me out before we leave the house. It’s one of your conjugal duties,” I hissed. I was holding the panties, well, waving them around, gesticulating wildly.
People were staring. I came to my senses and stuffed them in my pocket. “They’re not even mine! What were your panties doing in my shirt?” I asked.
“I’ve been wandering around the store, thinking wow, I must have picked out a nice outfit today because people sure are checking me out—probably thinking, you know, for someone approaching her senior citizen discount days, she looks damn good. But no, they’re staring because I’m wearing a pair of panties as a scarf.”
“Maybe they thought you were wardrobe challenged and didn’t know the difference,” she sputtered between giggles.A full-blown fit of laughter was just around the corner. I could feel it like how barometric pressure drops right before a storm.
“Or maybe they think you’re a fashionista and panties are the new infinity scarf,” she said, tears forming in her eyes.
“Or maybe I just invented the first traveling panties. I could do an infomercial: Ever find yourself in need of an extra pair of panties—this amazing pair of panties”—I whipped them out of my pocket for effect— “Can go anywhere and be anything. Look, it’s a hat, tilt it slightly and you look French.” I put the panties on my head. “Or you’re out eating lobster and you need a bib. Here it is.” I tucked the panties in my neckline. “Ever find yourself in need of a fanny pack? Just stick this amazing piece of modern engineering through your belt loops and you’ve got yourself a fanny pack. Or how about flagging for help when your car breaks down?” I waved the panties in the air.
A crowd had gathered. People were staring. Layce was gasping and bent over. “I think I just tinkled in my panties,” she said.
“Not a problem. I’ve got a spare pair.”
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