“John.” I stood in the doorway of the bedroom and held my hands at my sides. How would my husband react? I hoped that this tricky situation would go the way I planned. “Take off my dress,” I said, trying to keep control of my voice.

He nodded. The spaghetti straps of the long formal dress were the only things holding it up, and when he pulled them aside, it dropped to the floor, revealing my laciest, sexiest set of red underwear.

“John, take off my bra.” A tremble was creeping into my voice. I couldn’t help it.

The clasp parted in his fingers. He had handled this many times before, so there was no clumsiness in his grasp. The wisp of fabric came away in his hands.

“John, take off my panties.” I couldn’t hide the emotion any more.

He pushed my underwear down and let it drop to the floor.

“Now,” I said, regarding my husband’s now-naked body and the pile of my clothes at his feet, “Let me get you some clothes that flatter you, rather than looking silly. Red just isn’t your color.”