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Fingers, food and opera

"Ladies and gentlemen, the opera will be starting in the next minute. Please make your way to the viewing box and take your seats. We put on a wonderful show, so I hope you all will enjoy." A voice comes.

"I need to use that bathroom." I push my chair back.

"So do I." Mrs Cross gets up as well.

Her husband makes a gesture for someone to come over and lead us to the restroom.

I am full aware of Mrs Cross walking behind me, but I don't care or feel bad for what I am wearing. Because what she has on is a turnoff to even her husband, looking more like a maid or someone's grandmother instead of the wife of a millionaire.

She is dressed in an old fashion neon green, puffy sleeve dress that hides her figure. Flat shoes and her hair is up in a ponytail.

I want to roll my eyes every time I look at her. I don't understand how she can be so selfish. After all, he took her to this place. The least she could do is wear a little makeup.

After releasing my bladder and coming out of the stall to wash
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