Yes.

Hopping into your car, you head downtown to the bistro you picked out. Katie sits beside you, texting on her phone, scrolling through Twitter and Instagram, giggling at the occasional post, and commenting to you periodically on what various celebrities are doing.

You notice as you drive, however, something odd is happening to her: she's squirming. A lot. It was subtle at first. Just a slight shift of the legs here. An upper body shimmy there. But as you near the restaurant, it becomes more pronounced. She's in almost constant motion.

“Are you OK?” You ask. She swallows hard and you notice that her face is slightly flushed.

“Yeah, it's just...” She trails, rotating her hips again. “It's this underwear. It feels... I don't know.”

“Itchy? Are you allergic to the material?” You ask in concern.

She shakes her head. “No. No, nothing like that. It feels fine. I mean, it feels kinda good actually.” She squirms again. “It's almost like they're... moving. On their own.”

Katie suddenly turns and looks at you sternly. “This isn't a sex toy, is it? One of those panties with a vibrator in them and a remote control so that you can embarrass me all night?”

You blink at her wide eyed. “No! Of course not...” ...you hope. Truthfully, you can't be sure. You certainly don't have a remote control. But she seems unconvinced. “How could anyone could hide a vibrator in panties that thin?” You insist.

Katie sighs and sinks back into her seat, shaking her head. “You're right. That's crazy. I... I must be imagining it. It is a very weird material they're made of. That must be it.”

You nod and pat her hand in reassurance. “We'll be at the restaurant in a minute.” You laugh at a thought, “If you want to take them off when we get there, I won't be offended.”

She smirks at the implication. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

A moment later, you pull up outside a boutique restaurant in a trendy part of the downtown district. Katie is grinning from ear to ear as you meet her on the other side of the car.

“Good choice.” She seems suitably impressed, which means you're now batting 1.000 after almost ruining the entire anniversary. But you do your best to remain casual.

“It's a special day for a special girl. I wanted to take you some place just as special.”

You follow the maitre'd to your table, trying not to look nervous as you see dollar signs on the plates around you, and take your seats. Two glasses of wine and a plate of fancy hors d'oeuvres confirms that this will not be an inexpensive anniversary meal.

Soon enough, however, you have other concerns on your mind: Katie is still squirming around like someone is tickling her with a feather duster.

“Not any better?” You grimace, worried that the evening might yet be ruined. She looks back at you with growing concern in her eyes.

“It's so strange. They really feel like they're moving on their own. It's almost like they're ali- OH!” Something between a yelp and scream escapes Katie's lips, causing most of the quiet restaurant to glance over at her. She freezes, wide eyed, her face bright red, barely even breathing.

“What's wrong?” You ask quickly. Still frozen as still as a statue, she swallows hard and responds in a whisper so soft, you can barely make out her words.

“There is something inside me.” She replies.

“What?!” Your reply is loud enough that it provokes another round of stares from the other patrons, this time looking more perturbed at your volume.

“I need to get these things off.” Katie answers, frantically scanning the dining room for signs of the lavatory, then rising and awkwardly stumbling toward it.

For a moment, you sit in stunned silence. This evening has gone from defeat to triumph to defeat so quickly, you're not sure what can be salvaged from it. And now: this. Something inside her? What does that even mean?

Your phone chimes with a text message and you pick it up. It's from Katie.

“Get in here!!!!”

“Where?” You reply in confusion. The last you knew, she was in the women's restroom.

“QUICKLY!!!”

Your heart beginning to race, you jump up from the table and make your way over to the bathrooms, glancing around cautiously before slipping into the Ladies Room.

“Katie?” You ask hesitantly, hoping that there's no one else in here. The door to the larger, handicapped stall swings open and you go inside.