On Foot Over The Line.

So, I went out to dinner last night with my wife and two other couples. The wives are my wife's college roommates. The husbands are ok, I guess. Both are very successful, one is self made, the other took over his family business and grew the business to a much more successful enterprise. Vastly different people, both of them, with me falling somewhere in the middle.

Anyway, during the course of the meal I feel a foot on my leg and I look up at my wife who's sitting across from me, and she smiles at me.

Wow!

So not like her.

The foot moves up my leg and before I know it, I'm getting a foot job. Aroused, and enjoying it, I look back at my wife and she's smiling at me while talking to one of her friends.

Realizing that I need to stop the wife before things become explosive, I slip a hand under the table and grab the foot. I start massaging the foot and smiling back at my wife who now looks at me like I'm mildly retarded.

I look down at the foot.

Not my wife's.

I look casually back at my wife and I notice, out of the corner of my eye, that her friend seems to be enjoying something other than the conversation.

What the fuck?

Does she know she's parked on the wrong cock?

I casually move her foot down, away from my frank and beans and it comes back.
So I move it again.
Again, it comes back.

Fortunately, at this point, the Eiffel Tower is more like the leaning tower of Pisa, and I slide my seat back a bit, making it impossible for the girl to reach me.

I gulp down the stoli orange on the rocks, readjust the little guy and head to the bathroom to regroup.

Was it a mistake? Does this woman know she was foot jerking me and not her husband? Do I tell my wife that her best friend of 20+ years was toeing the line, as it were?

I stayed back from the table for the rest of the meal, leaning forward to eat, making for a most uncomfortable meal but the alternative was an entirely different kind of uncomfortable.

On the walk home, my wife asked my why I was so weird during dinner. I told her I was tired, that I wasn't up for the night out and, in the future, let's not do these kinds of dinners when I'm so tired and overworked.

Apparently, we're seeing this couple again in three weeks. I doubt if I'll tell my wife. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe she did think I was her husband. I hope so.

I'm wearing a cup next time, just in case.