A young woman in tiny shorts tried to flirt with my husband — so I taught her a lesson she won’t forget.

My husband and I had been longing for a vacation for years, but something always came up. Finally, we managed to steal a few free days. The plane tickets were last-minute, which meant we weren’t seated together. No big deal, I thought — a couple of hours apart was nothing compared to time by the sea.

As I walked past his row, I caught sight of who was sitting beside him: a girl of about twenty, in ultra-short denim shorts, scarlet lipstick, and lashes like feathered fans. I’m not a jealous wife, so I simply smiled to myself: “Let her sit there.”

But thirty minutes into the flight, her behavior crossed the line.

She leaned close, whispering coyly, laughing far too loudly at his brief, polite replies. She brushed his hand “by accident,” asked him for help with her bag, her water. My husband remained a gentleman — distant, uninterested.

And then she did it. She stretched her long legs out and propped them on the seat in front — right in my husband’s face, flaunting herself like it was a stage.

That was it. My patience snapped.

I got up, coffee cup in hand, and strolled casually down the aisle. Stopping at their row, I leaned down, kissed my husband on the cheek, and — “oops” — my hand slipped.

— Oh dear… so sorry, I whispered, as a drop of hot coffee landed on her thigh.

She shot up like she’d been burned.
— Are you insane?! she shrieked, loud enough for half the plane to turn. These are my new shorts!

I smiled sweetly.
— Yes, I noticed. You’ve been showing them off so diligently the whole flight, it was impossible not to. Maybe now you’ll sit properly?

She huffed, grabbed sweatpants from her bag, and stormed off to the restroom to change.

My husband gave me a look that said, “You’re unbelievable.”
I just sat back down, opened the in-flight magazine, and finally — finally — enjoyed the flight in peace.