Yes, but no taxicab

Once we got out to the car, we spotted Kayla and Mat walking toward the bar's entrance from the parking lot. Kayla was straightening her skirt and half-heartedly patted the sides of her hair while she strutted at us. Mat seemed to be buckling his belt.

"Hey! We couldn't find a cab," Kayla rubbed her elbow and grinned widely.

"Yeah. We haven't seen any cabs at all," Mat grumbled, then gave a short laugh.

"Well, how are our drunk asses going to get home?" I whined.

"Don't worry, hon," said Feely, "We'll do what we always do. We'll walk to Mat's house. He lives just a couple blocks away and has two extra bedrooms."

Right. Of course. Mat's house. "Oh wow, that's a lot of extra bedrooms."

"Yeah," said Mat, palming my wife's ass, "I came into some money a few years ago and bought a nice house." He pointed north, "To my place!"

We all made our dizzy ways to Mat's big house, eerily similar to Kayla's and my dream home, but with all the fixings we'd wanted but couldn't afford, including a jacuzzi. Mat led us downstairs where we marveled at the jacuzzi already steaming, large plush couch and the fully stocked bar.

After we'd each been expertly fixed or given a drink by Mat, master bartender, Kayla said, "I want to go in the jacuzzi."

"Of course!" declared Mat, "everyone in the jacuzzi. Women, you can feel free to leave your bras and panties on."

"In my case, just panties," I joked drunkedly. Kayla let out a loud, shrill giggle and slapped me gently on the bicep, hesitating a moment to give me a gentle reassuring squeeze as if to remind me it was all just an act, just a dream we would awaken from yet.

"Feely and I are going to have a problem with that," Kayla, suddenly acting shy, said, looking down and gripping the hem of her skirt with both hands.