You stay to help the movers; Abby starts working for George

After waking up and eating breakfast, you see a text from George: 'Hey, I figured since you'll be staying tonight, Abby should go ahead and start helping me now. I really need it. You should be able to supervise the movers by yourself.'

I talk about it with Abby and she agrees it's a good idea. George sends over and Uber as soon as we agree. He must really need some help with his condition! I send her off with a quick kiss on the cheek, after she gets changed into some sweatpants and a loose shirt.

"Text me when you're done," I tell her. I'm very curious as to what kind of treatment she will be doing for him. She gets driven off and my focus returns to the movers. They arrive, and to my surprise, they are clean cut and professional, packing boxes quickly and efficiently, and not breaking or damaging a single item. These guys must have cost a pretty penny. That George sure is a generous guy. About two and a half hours in, I finally get a text from Abby.

'All done.'

'How was it?' I ask, even more curious now.

'It was.... weird. Messier than I thought.' Messy? Weird? Okay, now I'm even more curious.

'What did you have to do, exactly?'

'I wish I could tell you, but George said it was private, so...' Dang.

'I understand. I won't ask again.' As curious as I am, I wouldn't dream of invading his privacy, especially when he is doing something so kind for us. In a few more hours, all the packing is done, and I drive over to George's place, our new place now, too, anxious to get moved in.

When I knock on the door, Abby answers, and my jaw drops to the floor. Instead of the loose shirt she had on when she left, she is wearing a low cut, tight shirt that shows off a ton of cleavage. When she sees my eyes on them, she puts up a hand to cover herself a bit, and says, blushing, "My shirt got... stuff on it during the treatment. George let me borrow a shirt that one of his exes left behind." Questions burn through my mind. What kind of stuff did she get on her shirt? What was she doing to even be in that position? But I push them all down for now.

"That was very nice of him," is all I say about it for now. "You look very nice," I say, trying to make her feel better, and she slowly lets her hands down.

"Thank you. George thought so, too." That George. Always a flirt. Of course, this time it's absolutely true.

"Where is he, by the way?" I ask.

"He went to go run some errands, I think," ahe replies. I shrug, and help direct the movers where to put the boxes. Even as professional as they are, they can't help but glance at my wive's cleavage as they move stuff into the apartment. At first, I'm a little jealous, but after a while I mostly feel happy that I'm so lucky to have such a desirable wife. Abby is uncomfortable at first, too, trying to shield herself from view, but the guys are so nice and helpful that she eventually loosens up and returns to her normal, bubbly friendly self. By the time they are all done, I try to give the boss a tip, but he refuses, saying, 'The view was a tip enough.' I don't argue too much, since I'm low on cash, and I have to agree the apartment is a beautiful one.

As Abby and I sort through some boxes, she gets a weird look on her face. "Sweetie, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead," I answer, wondering what this is all about.

"Well, it's the treatment I'm doing with George. It was very... intimate," she says hesitantly.

I nod. "That makes sense. Otherwise, he would probably just hire a professional."

"Oh. Yeah, okay," she says, pausing before speaking again. "I just used my hands, but he said I could use my mouth or other... parts... to do it as well. He said it would help him a lot more sometimes, but I'm not sure... What do you think?"