Long before I met my Hubs, I used to hang out with my long-ago best friend, S, and her boyfriend, B, all the time. Seriously. ALL. THE. TIME. I was the third wheel, which isn’t as sad as it sounds, because we were all such great friends, and had oodles of fun times together.
Well. One night, a few other friends joined us and we set ourselves to a night of drinking. Duh, of course, what else does one do in their early 20’s for fun??? We tended to get silly, and decided to play Truth or Dare.
(I’m laughing out loud typing this, as I recall the events of the evening…)
So, dares were made and completed, truths, both icky and fascinating were revealed, drinks were drunk…. At one point B was dared to put on one S’s dresses, which he did, although in retrospect he was a little too eager to don the lovely blue frilly lacey number. We had some good laughs about that.
Well, then…. it was S’s turn, and she chose B. She dared him to go in the bedroom with her, we all rolled our eyes, and they pranced off.
The rest of us drank some more, laughed some more.. and then, hey, we noticed B and S were still in the bedroom.
“Ugh. They are NOT doing what I think they’re doing, are they?” I questioned the group.
We grew silent, hoping to hear proof. (Juvenile? Yeah…) It was quiet.
We huddled and improvised an ambush of drunken and awesome proportions.
A couple of us went outside the ground level apartment to the bedroom window, while the others went to the bedroom door, and on the count of 3, they flung the door open and flicked on the lights, while my partner in crime and I peered through the window like a couple of perverted Peeping Toms.
What we saw was the two of them going for it.
And B was still wearing the dress.