A while back, my wife and I were having drinks with a good friend when she impulsively took a small bet. If she won, she’d get to dress both of us for the New Year's Eve party at the Island Pub. If she lost, the bet would apply in reverse. Naturally, we couldn’t resist.

The problem? I can’t, for the life of me, remember what the bet was about. But I do remember that my wife lost. And with New Year's still months away, she completely forgot about it.

Fast forward to December 30th. My friend and I raided her wardrobe, pulling out the most random, skimpy, and outrageous outfits we could find, hanging them neatly on the cupboard doors. Now, a little background—my wife is a fashion designer with very clear boundaries when it comes to clothing. So, as you can imagine, she was less than thrilled to be reminded of the bet.

The evening was... tense. No amount of discussion could sway her. The next morning, I brought her coffee in silence. Then, around nine, I sat on the bed and laid out the "rules of engagement" for the day.

First order of business? By noon, she needed to be showered, have her hair done, and wear nothing but a skimpy black G-string. The silence that followed said more than words ever could. I made the wise choice to exit quickly.

At 11:55, I cautiously checked in. Sure enough, she sat on the edge of the bed, hair done, a towel wrapped tightly around her, and a scowl that could curdle milk. Soft music played as I gently blindfolded her and left the room—amidst an explosion of protest.

Meanwhile, our friend, Sam, had arrived. When we re-entered the bedroom, my wife remained in the same position, except now she was thoroughly annoyed. With a smirk, I introduced her to Sam.

“Meet Sam. She has your outfit.”

Sam, who had spent time crafting something special, took full creative control. Hours later, when I finally stepped back into the room, everything had changed. Laughter replaced frustration, and my wife was practically glowing. Sam had painted a stunning corset onto her, complete with suspenders, stockings, and delicate detailing down the front. It was breathtaking.

Wrapped up in her element, my wife was ready. A light shawl draped over her shoulders, high heels clicking against the floor—we headed to the party.

The night was unforgettable. The outfits were a hit, and amusingly, only one person, late in the evening, caught on to what she was actually wearing.

A fantastic night all around. But one thing's for sure—my wife doesn’t take bets anymore.