[JonThink]

When I was young, I was pretty jealous of anyone that would pay an abundant amount of attention to my wife. One evening my wife and I had gone to a bar with another couple. We slid into a booth in the fairly well-lighted bar. It didn't take long before a guy nearby with a very good shot of my wife was eyeing her. Initially, I paid little attention to it, but before long, I noticed she was giving him the eye right back. I watched this go on through our first beer. However, by the second beer, she was still giving him the look. She and the other lady returned from the "powder room," and I noted that my wife had undone two additional buttons at the top of her blouse offering a pretty fabulous shot of her tits. The flirting continued between her and that guy. By the time we started on our third beer, nothing had changed -- except she had started moving her right knee and leg in and out from her other knee and leg. I knew that she had gone commando for the evening and was providing him a great beaver shot. He was fixated on her crotch by now.

Enough was enough. I said to the other couple that I knew a better place, and that we should depart. With that we got up to leave. Mr. Beaver Shot had his legs crossed and kicked out in the aisle where we had to walk to exit. I stepped squarely on his elevated and extended foot on the way out. He never made a move toward me. I guess he figured it was the price of admission.