Awakening Her Needs: A Hotwife Beginning Story (Her Needs Series)

by C. C. Morian

  “Very conservative, is she?” The clerk tapped an elegant finger against her lip. “Let’s see. I have an idea.” She led me to a display mannequin. “How about something like that?”

  The skirt on the mannequin looked exactly like something Emily would wear, upscale office attire. “Yes, but that may be too similar to what she already has.”

  “We can fix that,” replied the clerk knowingly. She pulled out a skirt from the rack and held it against her legs so the hem was just above her knee. The skirt was wider than what the woman was wearing, so it completely hid her waist. “Is this how your wife wears her skirts?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So you think she’d be comfortable with the style?”

  I shrugged. “I think so.”

  “How about now?” The woman deftly gathered the waist and also lifted the hem, so now it matched her own outfit. Actually, she had magically lifted her own skirt in the process, so she was now showing quite a bit of thigh.

  The effect was magical. The look went from being office appropriate to downright sexy.

  “Wow,” I muttered.

  The sales lady laughed. “See, it doesn’t take much. And now for another secret. If we find something almost exactly like this, but in a Petite size, you won’t even have to get her to hem it. Petites are made a little shorter than the same skirt in a Misses.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Now what color do you think she would like?”

  “Actually, what you are wearing is really nice, but I feel funny buying something for my wife that I saw you wearing, even though you look great in it.”

  The woman gave me a big smile. “Why do you think they make us only wear clothing we sell? That’s the whole point, so guys like you buy it. Come on, let’s pick out something else for you to look at.”

  Emily realized she shouldn’t be so excited looking forward to opening the nicely wrapped gifts Justin had left for her on the bed. It was a holdout from her upbringing, her parents had stopped giving her birthday presents at twelve, telling her that she was too old to expect anything, and the whole concept of wanting could lead destructively to needing, a terrible thing. And even before then, when other kids were getting dolls and toys, she usually received only practical gifts from her parents, like clothing and books.

  So Emily felt a little guilty as she stared at the box, yet at the same time, it was a way to fill in some of the blanks on what she had missed growing up. Justin was thoughtful and kind; she was so happy that she had waited for him, so glad they were married. So what if she hadn’t experienced other men? Who needed another man when she had someone like Justin, who would do anything to make her happy?

  So she didn’t hurry to open the gifts, she just sat on the bed, feeling the outline of the boxes, savoring the moment. What could it be?

  And Justin, standing there a little nervously, not his usual way, he was always so sure of himself, so strong.

  “If you don’t like it, I can bring it back,” he said.

  So that was it. He was worried he had bought her something she wouldn’t like. How could she not like a gift Justin had picked out for her? Just the thought was what counted, she could hate it and it wouldn’t matter, she’d use it or display it or do whatever one did with whatever the gift was.

  “You spoil me,” she said.

  “No, really, I hardly get you anything, except on your birthday, I’m not good picking out gifts.”

  “But you buy me flowers and take me to restaurants, and I love those diamond stud earrings you got me last year.” Emily touched them, her favorite jewelry, not because they were big and flashy, but because Justin had picked them out, the diamonds another luxury she never had.

  “This is a little different. Go ahead, open it. We have dinner reservations at that French place you’ve always wanted to go to.”

  “Oh, Justin,” Emily jumped up and threw her arms around him, holding him close. She knew Justin hated French food, even though he pretended to like it when they went to a French place, she knew he did it just for her. “You’re too good to me. I wish I could make you as happy as you do me.”

  “But you do, really. Come on, open your gift, I’m dying to see. . .just open it.”

  Emily giggled, feeling so young. She sat back on the bed, carefully unpeeling the wrapping, and then lost her control, ripping off the package. A beautiful blue box with the name of a high end boutique store. Where had Justin found that box? Surely he hadn’t bought her something from that store.

  She opened the box, tissue paper, and underneath, fabric, something silky. Clothing? Justin had bought her clothing? Try as she might, she couldn’t help feel a sliver of disappointment, a repeat of her childhood experiences.

  Though she had to admit the blouse was elegant, a top end designer label, it must have cost a fortune, and below it, more tissue, and a skirt. Confused now, had Justin bought her a work outfit? Didn’t he like her clothes?

  She turned to him, smiling, just a little forced, he was such a dear, it was the thought that counted, right? And it was a really nice outfit, much more expensive than she normally wore.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, a little eager, hopeful.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, meaning it. “I just. . .”

  “Didn’t expect clothing?”

  She sighed, he knew her so well, she couldn’t hide anything from him. “It looks expensive, not that I’m not grateful, just—”

  “Just try it on,” Justin urged. “I want to see what it looks like on you.”

  Emily started unbuttoning her blouse, turning slightly, even after years of marriage she hadn’t got used to undressing in front of anyone, even her husband. Her back to him, she laid her blouse on the bed and slipped out of her skirt, folding it neatly. She picked up the new blouse, the silk luxurious against her skin, breezy yet not see through, like a wearable satin sheet. She had to admit it felt wonderful.

  Next came the pencil skirt, a much slimmer cut than she normally wore. She slipped off her low heels and was forced to pull it up past her thin waist. The silk lining felt decadent, wispiness against her pantyhose. Her earlier disappointment was turning quickly to delight, the material so smooth, so high quality.

  Her good feeling came to a crashing end when she got it completely on, the hem only reached mid thigh. She turned up the hem, it had very little extra material, there was no way she could have it altered to be long enough.

  “Do you like it?” asked Justin. “It looks great on you.”

  “It’s beautiful, really, but it’s a little short, I’m sorry.”

  “No, that’s the way it’s supposed to be. You have such great legs, you look amazing.”

  “Justin, I can’t wear this to work, I wouldn’t be comfortable.”

  “It’s not for work, it’s for going out. I was going to get you a dress, but I wasn’t sure what to pick, everything looked too—anyway, I thought the skirt would be better. Look in the mirror.”

  That was the least she could do. Emily walked over to the bathroom, where a full length mirror was on the back of the door. She had to shorten her stride, the skirt wasn’t long by any stretch, but it was tight.

  Emily gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. The outfit looked even better on than she could have possibly imagined, even if it was many inches too short. The combination of a semi structured top with a form fitting skirt was something she had seen in fashion magazines, but never thought would look good on her petite frame. She turned side to side, feeling stylish.

  Too bad she’d never be able to wear it in public, just sitting down would be a challenge, the skirt would hike up so far it would probably show her panties.

  Still, she had to confess, it looked so chic.

  “Come on, admit it,” said Justin, sounding a little proud of himself. “It looks good, doesn’t it?” Without waiting for her to reply, he brought her the other box. “Here’s the rest of it.”

  Emily frowned, the box was too small for a
jacket, too large for jewelry, and there was no way Justin would buy her lingerie, was there? She slowly opened the box and gasped, Christian Louboutin, a brand Emily had looked wistfully on in magazines, classically beautiful but way more than she could ever justify spending. Black pumps, so her style, although the heels on these were too high, they had to be four inches.

  Four inches or not, she couldn’t resist slipping into them.

  And was instantly transformed, she hadn’t worn four inch heels since she’d tried on a girlfriend’s in college, but even tottering in them, she felt suddenly elegant, her legs looking longer, more refined, her posture more erect, her whole body like that of another woman. Not a model, she wasn’t tall enough, but an elegant woman instead of a dressed up twenty something.

  For the first time in her entire life, Emily knew what it meant to feel sexy.

  Justin whistled. Emily wasn’t one to stare at herself, vanity another sin her parents had warned her about. But she couldn’t pull her eyes off of her reflection, it was another woman staring back at her.

  Not a girl, as Emily often still thought of herself. But a woman, a sexy young woman.

  Too bad it would all have to be returned.

  “Justin, it’s beautiful, it really is. But we can’t afford it, and I just look too—.” Too what? Too good?

  Justin put his arms around her waist. “Don’t worry about the money. My project is going well, if I do the out of town trips I’ll get extra pay. You don’t have anything like this, it isn’t like you go and spend money on yourself. Just enjoy it.” He hugged her tighter, kissing the top of her head. “Besides, you look so pretty. Even more than you always do.”

  Emily blushed. Her practical side said not to keep the outfit, but the little devil of temptation was whispering in her ear, Do it!

  She succumbed. After all, it was just an outfit. What trouble could it bring?

  She tried one last time to shoo the devil away. “I don’t even know where I’d wear it.”

  Justin smiled. “How about now? To dinner?”

  I had planned on wearing a sport coat to dinner, but after seeing how dressed up and elegant Emily looked in her new clothes, I switched to a suit. The gift outfit had exceeded my wildest expectations. Emily looked great, not just cute, the way I usually thought of her, but downright sexy, a term I never had thought would fit my wife.

  As we left the house, got in the car, and during the drive, I found myself sneaking peeks at her, like she was a stranger. At one point I had to swerve back into my lane, I’d been staring at Emily’s bare thigh, the skirt had hiked up in the car. I’d seen her thigh a thousand times, yet tonight, it seemed downright risqué. Something to do, I suspected, with the fact that a skirt that short was so unlike Emily, just the thought of her dressing outside the norm so arousing I got an erection in the car.

  On the way into the restaurant I actually chuckled, I was checking out my own wife. Crazy.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Emily, her arm through mine, making me feel like a million bucks.

  “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

  We reached the doors just as a formally dressed couple was leaving, the man in a tux, the woman in an elegant evening gown, probably on their way to the theatre. The woman was maybe in her late thirties or early forties, beautiful, comfortable in her classy outfit. The man was a little older, distinguished, reeking of power and money.

  We were so intent on holding the door for our respective wives that we jostled slightly, both saying Excuse me, polite. On any other night, I might have turned my head to follow the woman as she walked away, she was that good looking, but tonight all my attention was on Emily, she made even the elegant woman look just average. Still, as I made sure the door didn’t close, I caught the distinguished man staring at Emily, actually stopping in the open doorway to openly admire her as she entered the restaurant.

  The rich guy’s eyes darted to me, as if reappraising, then he gave me a slight nod, so much communicated in that glance, it had nothing to do with holding the door. That’s some wife you got there, the look said. And with no embarrassment at all, like it was the most natural thing in the world, the man gave Emily one last long look before following the woman he was with.

  Stunned at the man’s audacity, I didn’t quite know what to do or say, then it was too late, the man was gone. Yet my chest swelled with pride; that rich, good looking guy with the beautiful wife had just as much as told me how amazing Emily looked, how tempting and sexy she must have appeared to him.

  Inside the restaurant I gave my name to the hostess. The man’s reaction was still on my mind, for some reason not bugging me at all. We had had never been to this restaurant together, but whenever we had walked by Emily had gazed at the raised tables near the windows, reserved, we surmised, for the regulars and the beautiful people. I’d been here once before, for a work lunch, all guys, we’d sat in the back near the kitchen, and the service hadn’t been all that attentive.

  The hostess frowned over the computer. I worried that there was something wrong with the reservation, which would be a disaster. Sure enough, the maitre’d came over, he and the hostess having a conversation in rapid, quiet French, which I didn’t understand.

  The maitre’d pointed to the screen, the hostess nodding, erasing something on the seating diagram.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  “No, not at all, monsieur,” responded the maitre’d. “Please, follow me.”

  Which surprised me, being shown to the table by the maitre’d and not the hostess. I shrugged and guided Emily before me, feeling her naked skin under the silky blouse.

  Instead of heading to the back, the maitre’d led us toward the front of the restaurant. Partway there a waiter with a very heavy tray stopped to let us go by; I felt bad for the guy, I’d worked in a restaurant a long time ago and knew the policy was to always let guests go first, no matter how much your arms were killing you. So I stopped, ushering the waiter to go first over his objections. When I resumed my journey through the tables, Emily was a dozen feet ahead.

  At the table just in front of me six businessmen had all stopped their conversation to stare at Emily, the curve of her tight buns clearly outlined in the form fitting skirt. One of the men said, “Wow,” and another one said, “You can say that again.” The first man repeated, “Wow wow” and they all laughed.

  None of them paid any attention to me, they were so focused on Emily. On any other night I would probably have said something, not make a scene, but these men were ogling over my wife, for god’s sake. Yet there was nothing derogatory in their response; well, some might consider it sexist, or demeaning, but they didn’t say anything off color, and though I thought of myself as a pretty modern, intelligent guy, I’d often appreciated women just for their looks.

  Instead, I had the same reaction I’d had at the entrance, I puffed up, these men were checking out my wife, she looked that hot. Not in any kind of slutty way, I didn’t think Emily could possibly even look slutty, no matter what she wore.

  My cock twitched wildly. What kind of guy got horny walking through a restaurant? Awkwardly I hastened to catch up to Emily, my erection pushing against my pants, it was a good thing I was wearing a jacket.

  The maitre’d was standing by a table for two, in the very center of the windows. The dais curved outward at that point, making the spot the center of attention. “Will this be acceptable, monsieur?”

  I nodded, as if I got offered this table all the time, and let the maitre’d hold the chair for Emily.

  “Oh my gosh,” said Emily, her eyes darting around the restaurant. “How did you manage to get us this table?”

  “It’s for the beautiful people, remember?” I replied. “And you’re beautiful enough for the two of us.”

  Emily shook her head in amazement. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m not complaining, I feel like a princess!”

  I hadn’t done anything, but I had a good idea of what had happened. The maitre’d ha
d taken one look at Emily and decided that she was the one who should be at this table, an advertisement to everyone looking in that this is where the beautiful people came to eat.

  Emily was in heaven, gushing about the food, her youthful energy making her radiant. Unlike my earlier dining experience, the service was impeccable, the waiter attentive, especially to Emily. During the dinner, whenever I could pry my eyes off her, I’d glance around the room, and damn if I didn’t see men all over the place staring at my wife.

  It couldn’t just be the clothes, I thought. Yes, Emily looked amazing tonight. But she was still Emily, nothing had really changed.

  I got up twice to go to the rest room, the second time just to see if I was right about the men in the room looking at her. Sure enough, a lot of them were. Walking back to the table, it finally dawned on me.

  Men were probably always checking out Emily. She really was that pretty. I had just become so accustomed to her beauty, since I had known her since she was in high school, that I just hadn’t noticed.

  The realization hit me like a slap in the face. I felt guilty as hell. It wasn’t like I didn’t think Emily was pretty, just the opposite. Instead, I was bothered by the fact that I had missed it before.

  How long had men been ogling over my wife? Maybe lusting over her?

  Who else besides the men at the restaurant did this? Men at her office? At her gym?

  It was all I could think about when I sat down. I didn’t even taste the food, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of men staring at my wife. Perhaps getting aroused over her.

  Just as I was now, my erection springing back to life. All those men, wanting my shy, inexperienced wife. . .

  It was almost too much to bear. It took all of my self control not to rush through the meal so I could get Emily home.

  To what? Have sex, of course I wanted that. But tonight I wanted more.

  For her part, Emily chatted through the meal, seemingly unaware of my discomfort. If only she knew about how she was affecting all theses men, I thought.