“Where are you going all dressed up like that” my wife asked as I came down the stairs in a suit and tie.

“A bunch of guys and I are getting together to have a boys night out. We are going to meet at the Kit Kat Club.”

“Kit Kat Club? That’s a pick-up place.”

“No it isn’t, but even if it was so what? I’m a married man and I have no intention of cheating on you. The owner is Mike’s brother and is going to give us our drinks for half price.”

“I’d rather you didn’t go.”

“I’ve already told the guys to count me in. Got to run. I don’t know how long I’ll be so don’t wait up” and with that said I was out the door.

As I drove away from the house I thought about what had just happened. I don’t know if Cora realized it, but our short conversation was almost word for word what she said to me when I came home from work six weeks ago and found her dressed to the nines and ready to head out on a girls night out. The only things different was she went to the Starlight Lounge instead of the Kit Kat and there was no mention of half priced drinks. Since that night she has gone out with the ‘girls’ every Thursday evening. I protested, but to no avail.

Then one Thursday night I called her and told her I was hung up at work and would be home late. She told me she would leave a plate for me in the micro wave and to give it three minutes. I was parked at the end of the block when she left the house. I gave her a block head start and then followed along behind here. I didn’t know if she would spot me or not. If she wasn’t doing anything wrong I doubted she would be looking to see if she was being followed. Even if she was doing something wrong I doubt she would worry about being followed because I was too dumb or clueless right?

I don’t know if she thought I was dumb and clueless. Maybe she just didn’t realize she was throwing up red flags. She left for work in a nice dress and heels and she couldn’t leave work and go to the lounge in them? She had to come home and dress sexier (at least to me it was sexier) to go meet the ‘girls’ at the lounge? Coming home later and later? Having to shower as soon as she got home? She couldn’t use cigarette smoke as an excuse for that because it was against the law to smoke in bars and restaurants.

She drove to the Starlight and parked in the last row from the building. I thought that was strange as there were plenty of open spots closer to the door. I parked where I could watch her car, but where she wouldn’t notice unless she made a point of looking.

I knew the layout of the Starlight and there was no way I could walk in and not be noticed and I didn’t want that so I had to be sneaky. I’d stopped by on Wednesday and found out who would be the cook on Thursday. A hundred dollar bill and a promise not to cause a scene got me access through the back door into the kitchen and a spot where I could see the bar and the dance floor and not be seen. Well I could be seen, but wearing a white coat and a chef’s cap I was betting that no one would think to take a closer look.

Cora was already seated when I got to where I could watch. She was sitting at two tables pushed together with three other women and four guys. She was just breaking off a kiss with the guy seated to her right when I got to my observation spot. I got my phone out and it to record video and then for the next two hours I watched Cora dance with the guy sitting to her right and kiss him and let him play grab ass with her. After two hours the group started breaking up and I thanked the cook for his help and headed out to my car.

It was about fifteen minutes before Cora and the guy she had been hanging off of most of the evening came out and walked to the car she was parked next to. That made it hard for me to see what was going on, but I saw enough. True, they weren’t on the back seat, but the tonsil swabbing told me all I needed to know and I headed on home and went to bed.

I was still awake when Cora got home, but I pretended to be asleep. The bedside clock said 11:05 and it was 9:35 when I left the parking lot so she had enough to do the dirty. And she did take a shower before coming to bed. When she did come to bed she spooned up against, kissed my neck and whispered “I love you.”

I’ll just bet you do I thought to myself as I lay there waiting for sleep to take me.

Friday at work I thought about what I should do. Cora was cheating on me. That was a given. Maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t given up her pussy, but to me make out sessions with another man and dancing with a man and letting his hands paw your body was cheating as far as I was concerned. To the level of getting a divorce? It was something I was going to have to think about.

Whatever she was doing it had no effect on our sex life. Even after ten years together we still got it on three or four times a week. I was making love, but was she?

I stewed about it for three or four days and decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. She came home and dressed to the nines to go on her girl’s night out so I would go home from work and dress up for my boy’s night out.

Of course there wasn’t going to be a boy’s night out, but Cora wouldn’t know that. I’d just head to one of the sports bars on the other side of town, kill about three hours and then come home and immediately shower. That should get her attention because I never shower at night. I have always showered when I got up in the morning.

I was savoring the sour look on Cora’s face when I left the house and headed for the sports bar. Halfway there I decided against it and headed for the movie complex over on Perry Avenue.

I took off the coat and tie and left it them the car, headed into the complex, picked one of the six movies, bought popcorn and a Coke and then sat down to watch and kill time before going home.

I put the coat and tie back on and headed home. Halfway there I had the thought that if Cora had waited up it would aid my deception if I had alcohol on my breath so I stopped at Buckskins to have a drink or two. Buckskins was a country/western bar that had bands on Friday and Saturday nights.

The band that night was Carlos Washington and I was able to get a seat at the bar and I ordered a PBR. I sat there, drank my beer and watched couples do a two-step out on the dance floor. When it ended the band started playing Strait’s “The Chair” and people lined up to do the “Cowboy Cha Cha as a line dance and I got off my stool and joined them.

I stayed out there for an Electric Slide and then went back to my bar stool. I ordered one more beer and was going to drink it, watch the dancers until I finished it and then go home. That changed when Carlos announced he’d had several requests for “Ride Cowboy Ride” and he had no sooner finished his announcement when a hand hit my shoulder and a voice said;

“Hey cowboy; they are playing our song.”

I turned and found Brenda Asher standing there. She pulled me off my barstool and then pulled me out onto the dance floor. On the way I asked her how the song got to be our song.

“Because it will be the first song we’ve ever danced to.”

I couldn’t argue with that I thought as we moved into a western swing. I’d known Brenda for about five years. She worked for the same company I did, but in a different division. The western swing was not a dance you could talk during, at least not conversation type talking so I just kept my mouth shut and concentrated on the dance.

When “Ride Cowboy” ended the band went into “Coopertown Road” and we stayed out on the floor for the line dance and when it ended Carlos said the band was going to take a break. As we were leaving the floor Brenda said:

“Grab your drink and join us at our table.”

“Who is us?”

“Girls from work. You know all of them.”

She followed me to the bar and when I had my drink in hand she led me over to where two tables had been pushed together and five girls were sitting. I knew four of them, but not the fifth. When we got to the table Brenda said:

“Hey guys; look what I found. Our very own dance partner.”

Then to me she said “You know all the girls, right?”

“I know Sally, Marsha, Patty and Mary, but not this other young lady.”

“Pauline French” the woman said as she offered me her hand. “Bob. Bob Dalton” I said as I took her hand and shook it. I sat down and asked:

“What brings all you ladies out on a Friday night?”

“A girls night out” Marsha said, “And why would you ask that?”