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

by C. C. Morian

  From any other man Emily would have taken that as a boast, or a threat, but from him, it seemed just a statement of fact.

  “You’re making me nervous,” she said.

  “Is it because I’m black?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Are you sure its nervousness? You might be feeling something else.”

  Emily shivered, but not from the cold air. She shook her head.

  “I don’t see why you could be nervous just from me handing you a towel. It must be something else.”

  Emily struggled to get her wits about her. “I have to go,” she said, suddenly worried that people were looking at them, that Justin might right then be looking out the window from their room, wondering what she was doing pressed up against a black stranger.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  For some reason Emily couldn’t move, captured by his eyes, his power. She might have stood there forever if he hadn’t finally moved ever so slightly, so clear to both of them that he was letting her go.

  Emily tried to slip by, but still had to brush up against him, his chest a rock harder than the sides of the pool. Heat rushed up her arm. She clasped the towel to her chest, walking back toward her chair, consciously aware of her bare back, the skimpy bottoms barely covering her rear.

  Maybe he isn’t looking, she thought. Then, a little devil whispered in her ear. You look good, don’t worry.

  “I like the way that suit fits on you,” she heard him say.

  She fought the urge to turn around, but whispered, “Thank you,” because, of course, that’s the way she was taught to respond when someone paid you a compliment.

  At least that’s what she told herself.

  I couldn’t understand what was taking Emily so long to get ready. Normally very aware of time, she’d been in the shower forever. Now I could see her in the slightly open bathroom door, intently leaning over the vanity, putting on her makeup.

  “I wish you had told me we’d be having dinner with your new boss,” she said. “I didn’t bring anything nice to wear.”

  “I had no idea. We just found out today. They are going to introduce him tonight to everyone, he just joined from another company. I haven’t even met him yet, it was a surprise to me. Besides, you’ll look fine, you always do.”

  “Still.”

  I paced nervously. I wasn’t worried about how Emily would look. I hadn’t been lying, she always looked cute. Being late, however, would not be good. I fought the urge to tell her to hurry.

  When she finally emerged from the bathroom I smiled to let her know I appreciated her preparations. “You look great.”

  Emily walked barefoot across the room to her suitcase. “Thank god I brought a pair of heels.”

  “I don’t think anyone will be that dressed up. No one was expecting anything fancy.”

  “You have your suit jacket,” she said.

  “I’m not wearing a tie, don’t worry. You’ll probably be the best dressed woman there.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Emily gave herself one last glance in the mirror by the door. “Okay, this is the best I could do.”

  “Believe me, you look wonderful. Everyone will think so.”

  The elevator swooshed down, Emily’s stomach lurching. She was still having trouble recovering from her run in with the black man at the pool. She had taken an especially long shower, as if that could clear her mind and body from the encounter. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet she felt she had acted wickedly bad.

  The shower had only made things worse. She’d turned the dial the wrong way, yelping under the cold blast of water, her skin freezing, immediately reminding her of what it felt like coming out of the pool, her boobs just as exposed as they were now, her nipples just as hard.

  She fought with the shower control, cringing against the wall, just as she had cringed under the gaze of the black man. She spun the dial all the way, the heat slamming into her body, shocking her skin, just like when she had brushed by him.

  She’d never been so affected by a man before, not even Justin. The surprise of it all, that had to be it. Not because he was big and strong and handsome.

  Stop it, she admonished herself. She was a happily married woman. She’d never even thought of another man that way. Certainly not some stranger.

  She’d leaned back against the wall, the hot water running over her body, watching the drops flow over her hard nipples, continuing on down her flat stomach, lost to view between her legs. Her skin prickled at the memory of the man’s hands on her arms, pulling her out of the water, so strong. She closed her eyes, even the darkness of her lids no match for the blackness of his skin, hotter even than the water.

  A new wetness spread between her legs, her hand involuntarily covering her private parts, as if she had to hide here in the shower, as if the black man were there, looking at her, seeing her fully naked, seeing more than what she knew he must have seen, her bare breasts, her stiff nipples. Would he have known they were erect from the cold water, and not from seeing him?

  Oh god, no, he couldn’t think. . .

  Yet the way he had looked at her, the things he had said. So cocky, more than being polite, even more than flirting, what impression had she given him?

  What might have happened if she hadn’t escaped?

  Nothing. I was in public. I’m married.

  That’s what her mind said. Her body screamed something different, her wetness a testament of secret, sinful thoughts. As if her hand belonged to someone else, she slipped her fingers inside herself, her wetness so much more than the shower water.

  She spread her labia, letting the hot water hit her clit, the sensation electric. She’d never masturbated in the shower, but ever since that morning in bed a few months ago she’d been masturbating a lot, not sure why, yet the need uncontrollable. Yet always alone, not like this, not with Justin in the other room. . .

  Justin. She’d just think of Justin, she’d make herself come. Quickly her fingers did their work, more experienced now with her own body, knowing what worked. Yet every time she thought of Justin her mind was filled with the black man, his hands all over her, pressing her against the wall.

  He was lifting her up, just as he had done at the pool, her back sliding against the hard stone, yet not afraid, he was so strong her weight would seem insignificant to him. She wrapped her legs around his muscular thighs, her face now in his neck, one of his hands supporting her, the other behind her head, pulling her toward him, their lips meeting. . .

  She felt the tip of his manhood pressing up against her, wanting to fight, knowing she should fight, he couldn’t be inside her, unprotected. Not like this, not with Justin in the other room. . .

  He speared into her, driving her against the wall, and she screamed into his chest, stretched beyond belief. Held her breath, waiting for him to pull out, to give her a reprieve. Instead, he thrust forward, he wasn’t all the way in, that was impossible!

  He pulled back and drove forward, into her. No! Stop. You can’t!

  He ignored her, his eyes steel, and she realized she hadn’t spoken out loud. “No, don’t. . .” her words lost in the spray of water.

  He kept fucking her. “Tell me what you really want.”

  “Don’t, you can’t, my husband. . .”

  “Tell me the truth! What do you want?”

  “I want you to—hurry!”

  “That’s more like it.” He rammed forward, pinning her to the wall, locking her in place, a small smile on his lips.

  “Hurry!”

  “Now,” he said. Nothing moved except his cock, jerking so forcefully she could feel it bulging, powerful spasms of his seed shooting into her. Her fingernails dug into his skin as she came, her body trapped, having nowhere to go.

  When he finished with her he let her slip to the floor, her stomach lurching, and when she opened her eyes the elevator had reached the ground floor.

  “Emily? Are you okay?”

  She shook he
r head, disoriented, the memory so intense, Justin’s voice coming from far away. “I’m fine, I’m—just not used to these fast elevators.”

  “Do you need to sit for a minute?”

  Thick black dots swam in her eyes. “No, let’s go.” She needed to be moving, to focus on something else.

  Justin led her through the lobby to the business meeting space. Slowly she started to notice the other people, mingling, a crowd standing around outside the banquet hall with drinks.

  A man she recognized saw them, one of Justin’s colleagues. He separated himself from the crowd and came over.

  “Justin! Hi Emily, I’m Tom, we met at the company picnic last year. Glad you could come. Justin, come on, our new boss is here, you can meet him before dinner.”

  Tom ushered them into the banquet hall. Emily, intent on not jostling anyone holding a drink, didn’t look up until she was in the room.

  Justin was extending his hand as Tom was saying, “Damian, here’s the guy I was telling you about, you’re going to be really impressed by what he can help you with.”

  Emily almost tripped, her heart certainly did, because Damian was a tall, handsome black man. A black man with a shaved head.

  The man from the pool.

  During dinner I tried to get a sense of what my new boss Damian was like. It wasn’t easy; Damian was one of those stoic, quiet types. Not reserved, he exuded an aura of power and confidence. He just didn’t waste any words, and when he did speak, he expected people to listen.

  I figured the best thing would be to do the same, listen attentively and keep my mouth shut. I had a feeling that Damian didn’t like long winded people. Sure enough, Tom was babbling on, probably nervous, and I noticed Damian give him a steely look when Tom kept interrupting. Tom was a good guy, and I would have given him a kick to warn him, but Tom was sitting on the other side of the large table.

  Emily was her usual quiet self, which I was especially grateful for tonight; the last thing I needed was for Emily to embarrass me, not that I ever expected that. She was a smart woman with her own career, she understood the importance of a good first impression.

  Damian, however, must have noticed how quiet she was, and likely out of politeness tried to entreat her to join in the conversation.

  “So, Emily, what do you do when your husband is at work?” he asked.

  “What? I — work too.”

  The other people at the table had stopped their conversation when Damian had spoken, and everyone was waiting for Emily to go on. But she blushed and fell silent. I frowned, she wasn’t being very polite, so unlike her. “Emily works in the records department at Central University,” I added.

  “So you’re a librarian?” asked Damian.

  “I guess you could say that,” responded Emily.

  “She’s actually in charge of the entire department,” I said, feeling oddly defensive of my wife.

  Oh, so you are a head librarian,” said Damian, nodding.

  Emily blushed even more. She really didn’t like being the center of attention.

  “I’ll bet you are good at whatever you do,” said Damian.

  “I—I think so,” said Emily. “I’m still learning a lot.”

  “Have you had a good teacher? A mentor?” asked Damian. “I’ve found that is very important in learning new skills. You often don’t know what you don’t know unless you have someone with experience to show you the ropes.”

  “That’s so true,” jumped in Tom. “I’d like to talk to you about a formal mentoring program, once you get comfortable here.”

  “I’m always comfortable,” said Damian. “I do believe in mentoring. I take a very personal involvement in the development of everyone around me, not just my direct reports. It’s important that you all be satisfied in every way with your work environment, and beyond that, in your personal lives. If you’re not getting what you need at home, you won’t be able to be productive at work either.”

  “A holistic approach,” said Tom. “Very forward thinking.”

  “You could say that,” said Damian, barely glancing at him. He looked back at Emily. “You must not have to work long hours like everyone at this company.”

  “I beg your pardon?” responded Emily.

  “I see that you are in excellent physical shape. So you must have time to work out, exercise.”

  “Emily goes to the gym every other day,” I said, glad that Damian was taking an interest in my family, also secretly hoping that Damian would be impressed by what a smart, in shape wife I had. Men always thought more highly of other men who had good looking wives. Law of the jungle, something like that.

  “It shows,” said Damian. “Being new in town, I haven’t had time to find a gym to join. You must like yours if you go there all the time. Which one is it?”

  “Any Time Fitness,” said Emily. “It’s open around the clock.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Damian, nodding. “I’ll definitely check it out.”

  “I go there too, there’s one close to my house,” Tom piped up. “I’d be happy to tell you about it.”

  I thought Tom was starting to make a fool of himself, and tried to get him off the hook. “The one Emily goes to is quite close to the office. I’m sure she could show you around.”

  “How kind of you,” said Damian, without turning to look at Tom. “I’m already enjoying what I’ve seen here so far.”

  “Another present?” Emily took the box from Justin. “What’s the occasion?”

  Justin smiled. “Just something for fun.”

  Emily weighed the box in her hand, remembering the last gifts Justin had given her, the outfit, the shoes, and all they had led to. The box was too heavy for shoes, and the wrong shape for clothes.

  Justin had just returned from a business trip, surprising her with the gift after giving her a nice hug and kiss when he had come in the door. “Should I open it now?”

  “Now, later, whenever you want. Actually, maybe later would be better. Have you eaten?”

  “No, I just got home, I didn’t have time to go grocery shopping, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

  “I know, hey, it’s great, I managed to get finished a few hours early and caught the last flight, I hate having to stay away on a Friday night. Let’s go out somewhere, we have to celebrate too.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  “I got promoted to head up the pipeline project!”

  Emily threw her arms around him. “That’s great!”

  “I know, I can’t believe it. Damian must really be impressed with what he’s seen so far of what I have to offer. It’s only been a month and he already gave me the promotion.”

  Emily shivered at the mention of Damian’s name. She was happy for Justin, but ever since the company retreat at the resort she’d been trying to get Damian out of her mind. She hadn’t said a word to Justin, there really was no reason to, and she didn’t want to risk him acting differently in front of Damian. There really was nothing to tell him, anyway. What would she say? That she had run into Damian at the pool, and he had handed her a towel? Justin would have asked her why she hadn’t mentioned it, or worse, why she was mentioning it now, a month later, and then what would she say?

  She dreaded Justin reminding her about his offer to have her show Damian around the gym. Why on earth had Justin done that? She’d been avoiding the gym the last few weeks for that very reason.

  “Come on, let’s go eat,” she said.

  “Let’s call a Uber,” said Justin. “I want to be able to have a few drinks to celebrate. We can order a bottle of champagne too.”

  For perhaps the first time in her life, Emily thought that having a few drinks sounded like a really good idea.

  I watched Emily as she opened my gift. “Careful, it’s a little fragile.”

  I held my breath as she carefully opened the package, wondering how she was going to react. The last time I had bought her a gift, the sexy outfit, things had gone well. The combination of the drin
king that night and the outfit had led to the best sex of our marriage. Emily was still the same, still the somewhat shy, reserved, traditionally minded woman I loved and had married, but I’d gotten a glimpse of another part of her. No, that wasn’t it, I had helped awaken another part of her.

  “Oh, Justin, it’s beautiful!” exclaimed Emily, holding up the Waterford crystal jar.

  “And practical too,” I said. “Just the kind of gift you like.”

  “Yes! We can put it on the dining room side table, use it for candies.”

  “I was thinking that maybe we could use it for something else. Our bucket list. Dress it up a little, you know? Much nicer than a real bucket,” I joked.

  When Emily looked at me quizzically, I explained. “See, we could leave it out, and then when one of us thinks of an idea, we can drop it in the jar. Then whenever we want, we can just pick one out at random, and that will be the next experience we check off the bucket list.”

  “Well, sure, that would be different. Let’s try it!”

  Emily seemed pretty relaxed tonight, much better than when I had come home, she hadn’t seemed as excited about my promotion as I had hoped. Maybe she’d had a tough time at work, I shouldn’t have just dumped my news on her without asking about her week, we’d hardly had time to talk while I was away. But now she seemed better, she’d had two glasses of champagne and a glass of wine at dinner, the most I’d seen her drink since the night we had tried to get drunk. That must be it, she had a tiny buzz going.

  I pulled three pieces of tightly folded papers out of my left pocket and slipped them into the jar. “In fact, I’ve been working on some activities for our list, and thought I could seed the jar, so to speak. No peeking!”

  “You wrote some down already?”

  I hesitated, then decided to take a chance. This next part was an idea I’d planned on waiting a week or so for. From my right pocket I took three more prepared bucket list ideas, the naughtier ones. Fifty-fifty chance, I thought.

  Emily’s frowned. “That’s a lot! I don’t have any.”

  “Why don’t you try to come up with a few ideas while I get us some wine.”