The Sexy Leopard and a $50 Tawny

I love Halloween. Every year, I go all out decorating the garage — lights, creepy soundtrack, and enough candy to bribe the entire neighborhood. I get so caught up making it perfect that I usually forget one thing: my own costume.

My wife, on the other hand, came prepared. A few days before Halloween, Amazon boxes started showing up. Inside? Her secret costume.

When she finally stepped into the garage, I did a double take. Tight leopard-print outfit, painted spots on her face, and four-inch heels — she was unrecognizable. Let’s just say the enhancements from her recent surgery filled that outfit perfectly.

“Are we going out?” she purred.

I blinked. “Uh… give me five minutes.”

I ran upstairs, rummaged through the costume bin, and found the easiest option: a masquerade mask. Not my best work, but at least I wasn’t standing next to her in jeans and a tee shirt.

We closed up the garage and headed out to dinner at Fleming’s. It had been a while since we’d had a proper date night. The funny thing was, every time I looked at her, I felt like I was talking to someone else.

“Babe, it feels like I’m dating another woman,” I confessed, staring at her painted face and boobs.

After enjoying their Miso-glazed Chilean sea bass, the bartender asked, “Would you like dessert?”

“Crème brûlée?” I offered.

“Tawny,” she said.

“Fifteen-year or forty-year?” the bartender asked.

“Forty,” she said, smiling at me. “Sorry, babe.”

That “sorry” added seventy-five bucks to the bill — and honestly, worth every penny, but don't tell her.

The night wasn’t over, however. “Let’s go somewhere fun,” she said. So off we went to a bar with an ’80s cover band. She danced, laughed, and turned heads while I tried not to trip over my own jaw.

Hours later, we finally got home. I was done; she wasn’t. She opened a bottle of wine, turned the music back on, and started dancing again.

At some point, I fell asleep on the couch. I vaguely remember loud music, a doorbell, and seeing a leopard grab an orange Whataburger bag from someone at the door. Then she covered me with a fur throw and everything went quiet.

The next morning told the whole story: wine glasses, a half bottle of wine, leopard ears and tail on the floor, and one very hungover wife.

The moral? Never underestimate a forty-year Tawny — or a woman in leopard print on Halloween.