Open Marriage

"Can we start with the bad part?"

The speakers were blaring the latest hip-hop song of the month. Colored neon lights flickered as the clubbers cheered and tore up the dance floor in their skimpy, flashy, and expensive clothes.

Everyone dancing was booed up. The ladies rocked their partners like there was no tomorrow. At the bar, drinks flowed like water. There were bottles of booze and tequila shots lined up on the counter. The bartenders did their magic as the DJ did his.

On the balcony was a VIP lounge that gave a clear view of the dance floor. Three men in well-ironed shirts and pants sat around a table. In the middle was a man who had his sleeves rolled up. He picked up a glass and gulped down its contents. As he poured himself another glass of bourbon on the rocks, his hand was grabbed.

"That's enough, dude. You have had three glasses already," his friend said, reaching out to grab the bottle.

Scott Brown gave him a stink eye and said, "Get your hands off me." With that, he yanked his hand away and downed another glass. He had a high tolerance for alcohol, but he was already feeling intoxicated at the moment.

His other friend, Anthony James, set down his glass of wine and leaned forward. "Come on, Scott. Drinking won't solve anything. You know that, don't you?"

Scott slammed the glass on the table and clenched his fists while gritting his teeth. "I should have punched that asshole in the face. You guys should have seen the smirk he gave me. And Zara, she didn't even acknowledge my presence at all. She just got into his car and he drove off. Gosh, I hate her so much!"

"No, you don't!" Leonard Walter, who had barely gotten over the shock of being shouted at, piped up. "You might not be in love with Zara, but you don't hate her."

Scott flared up immediately. "Shut up! That's not the point. The point is she brought her little boyfriend to the house!"

"If you ask me, that's kind of your fault. Didn't you say that Cora sometimes spends the night at your house?" Anthony chimed in. "As far as I know, no woman would be happy that her husband brings his ex-girlfriend home."

"Point of correction, Cora is not my ex-girlfriend. We were kids at the time. That's all," Scott rebuffed, pouring himself another drink.

He then looked at his friends. "Come on, guys. You are supposed to be on my side. Tell me what to do to get rid of that idiot sticking to my wife!"

"Ermm... I think that's going to be very difficult," Anthony said, his eyes somewhere else.

Scott sharply turned to him. "And why is that?"

When he didn't get a response, he followed his friend's line of vision. What he saw next caused a grenade to go off inside him.

On the dancefloor was his wife, Zara Hall. She was twisting her body with reckless abandon. A familiar man had his hands on her thin waist. Her eyes were closed and she had one of her hands up in the air. The dress she had on was so skimpy. It set off her curves and cleavage.

Scott was about to pop a vein at the sight of this. "Argh! I'm gonna kill him!"

Before his friends could react, he rushed downstairs. He boldly nudged people out of his way with his eyes still on the duo in the middle of the dancefloor.

The second he got to them, he grabbed her man by the collar and punched him in the face. Finally, Zara opened her eyes in horror. Without glancing at her, Scott pounced on the man who was already sprawled on the floor and holding his bloodied nose.