Discovering Her Needs: A Hotwife Discovered Story (Her Needs Series)

by C. C. Morian

  Published by YRBS

  Copyright © 2015 by C. C. Morian and Blaise Quin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for supporting the rights of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, is entirely coincidental.

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  Contents

  DISCOVERING HER NEEDS

  About the authors

  Find Out About New Releases

  Books by C. C. Morian

  Books by C. C. Morian and Blaise Quin

  Books by Blaise Quin

  DISCOVERING HER NEEDS

  by

  C. C. Morian

  and

  Blaise Quin

  DISCOVERING HER NEEDS

  I was deep in concentration about a problematic line of computer code when my phone beeped. I tried to ignore it, I usually turned the phone off when working on a difficult project but must have forgotten this time. By the third ring I knew it was hopeless and I glanced over at the phone, hoping it was a call I could let go to voicemail. The image of my wife Janet popped on the screen and I groaned, not because I didn’t like talking to her, but the call meant that I was late.

  “Hello?”

  “Just wanted to make sure you were on your way.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “What time is it?”

  “I take it that means you aren’t on your way.”

  “I still don’t know why I have to go,” I protested, but I was already saving my work and getting up.

  “We’ve been through this. It just looks better for me if you are there.” There was a pause. “Look, if you don’t want to go, then just tell me.”

  “No, no, I’ll be there. Maybe a few minutes late, but I promise, okay?”

  “Okay. See you there. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I said, but Janet had already clicked off. I needed to get my project done, but Janet didn’t ask for much, and although I still didn’t understand why she wanted me at her boring work party, I would go. Actually, it wasn’t even a work party, it was an opening at some art gallery. A lot of people from her industry would be there, so she wanted to put in an appearance, and thought it made a better impression if her husband showed up.

  I wasn’t sure if that was to let the married men know she was taken, or that she was a powerful enough woman that she could tell her husband what to do. Janet wasn’t a dominant type at all, we had a pretty balanced relationship, so it might have been about making it clear that she was independent and strong. Which she was.

  I sat there for a minute staring at Janet’s image on my phone. It was one of my favorite pictures of her. I had taken it at a party without Janet knowing. She was wearing this wonderful little black dress that showed off her amazing body, her searing coppery hair and the energy of her sparking green eyes radiating even in a photograph. We had been at this black tie event, and when we had entered every eye had turned to stare at her, she looked that good, elegant and yet not aloof, the kind of woman that not only men looked at, but women did as well.

  In the photo, Janet was surrounded by a group listening in rapt attention to some story she was telling, her eyes bright, her face animated. But if you looked closely, the men in the photo, all well dressed, handsome, successful business men, were definitely paying more attention to Janet than to what she was saying. The two men closest to her were staring at her breasts, the dress showing just the hint of cleavage, almost a tease. Another man was staring at her face, no doubt entranced by her stunning eyes. And the two men farthest from her were looking down, probably at her amazing legs, toned and tanned. Even the women in the photo seemed in awe of her.

  You might wonder why I had a photo of my wife being ogled by other men. Part of the reason is that I thought I had hit the jackpot when I met her, and now, twelve years later, I still felt the same way. Janet had been a competitive skier and runner in college, and had the amazing body that went along with both sports. Being in shape was really important to her, she still kept it up even now, looking better in her late thirties than most women did fifteen years younger. Every time I saw her I felt I had to pinch myself that she was mine, not as some kind of possession; just knowing that these rich successful men lusted after her gave me a kind of thrill. I was the one she was coming home to, I was the one who had not only seen her put that dress on, but I’d see her take it off.

  I’d been with my share of pretty women before I had been married, but there was a definite difference between beauty and sexuality. There are a lot of beautiful women. Not all of them are sexy. Janet was both.

  So that’s why I kept this photo. It reminded me, not that I needed any reminder, of how lucky I was to have her, that with all their money and riches and yes, even better looks, those men couldn’t have what I had.

  Just looking at that photo often got me aroused, all the testosterone she was eliciting from those men somehow contagious. Janet wasn’t a vixen, she wasn’t a tease at all, she had this natural sensuality that drove men crazy. The fact that I knew it affected not only me but other men just made it all the more arousing.

  Sometimes when I looked at that photo, or one of the others I had like it, I would get so turned on I’d have to touch myself, and I could feel myself stirring now, wondering if the event we were going to would lead to men ogling her. It was a little secret I had, something I’d never admitted to Janet. I didn’t think she would understand, she’d probably think I was accusing her of being slutty, which she wasn’t, or using her looks, or leading men on, neither of which she did.

  No time.

  Reluctantly I cleared the screen. I rushed upstairs and changed out of my usual office attire of shorts and a tee shirt—one great benefit of working at home—into dark slacks and a button down shirt. As I was heading out the door I remembered that Janet would be coming right from work, dressed in nice office attire, so I went back for a blazer.

  I was late but didn’t drive especially fast, I wanted to get there a little after Janet did. And to tell the truth I wasn’t especially fond of Janet’s co-workers and the people in the investment banking industry. They were mostly men, almost all arrogant and pushy, the bad side of salespeople. Janet had done incredibly well to get as far as she did as a woman, and I was proud of her.

  Still, sometimes I wished she had chosen another industry. Her job demanded long hours, lots of travel and time away from home. To make connections she also had to attend company briefings, industry symposiums, and an endless array of social events. It was especially difficult for a woman who was by herself. Single women in the industry were often viewed as either too feminine (which meant they were not taken seriously and were preyed upon by men) or too masculine (in which case they were viewed as bitches). Married women didn’t have it much easier; often they were considered not to be in it for the long haul, that th
ey’d drop out and have kids.

  Janet had noticed that the women that did seem to make it were the ones who could walk the thin line between being professional and gregarious, and who had husbands who showed up to make it clear to everyone that they supported the choices their wives made. Maybe not fair, but that’s the way it was.

  And I did want to be supportive. Janet had done the same for me when I had come home one day ten years ago and announced I had quit my steady gig as a programmer at a well established internet company, and that I wanted to become a contractor, working from home. It was risky, and hard work, but Janet never complained. Fortunately for me I not only made a go of it, but along the way developed a few phone apps that took off, and now had a successful small business. Janet had gone back for an MBA, entered the banking world, and now made even more than I did. Between the two of us, we weren’t ready to retire at fifty, but we were doing okay. Well enough that I had just bought myself a brand new car. Janet needed one as well, but she hated car shopping, so today I had suggested she take my new Audi; she shouldn’t be driving to formal work events in her old Toyota. Maybe I’d surprise her with a car for our anniversary.

  There wasn’t much traffic, I was heading toward the city at the end of the day, instead of with the flow, and I got to the gallery only fifteen minutes late. Janet was always prompt, but she’d have plenty of people to be talking to, and she probably wouldn’t even notice what time I got there, which was fine by me, it would give me a chance to watch her just a little before she saw me. It wasn’t like she’d spend the evening talking to me anyway, this was a work event and we both knew it, and I didn’t mind. Plus, she knew I didn’t enjoy these events, and occasionally after I did something like this for her she’d return the favor—in the bedroom. I felt a little guilty with the thought, since it had been another part of the reason I had agreed to show up.

  The major downside of our busy careers was that Janet and I had less time for just the two of us being together. We’d tried hard to make it work, even scheduling evenings together, dinners, nights out, but invariably they’d get delayed, then cancelled, due to her work events. She’d come home either wired up or dead on her feet, either wanting to talk about work or collapsing in bed. The last thing she wanted was sex, and so our sex life, which I thought had been pretty good, started to suffer.

  What made it worse was that Janet was never just the jump in the sack type; she usually needed a good amount of cuddling and warmth to get aroused. “It’s just the way I am now,” she had explained. I never understood what she meant by the now part, wondering if she was referring to having been different before me, or different before she got so busy.

  I didn’t feel comfortable asking. In a lot of ways I thought I had married over my head, not in terms of money, but Janet was a stunningly beautiful woman, and while I wasn’t ugly, I was pretty average. Some of my luck might have had to do with being in the right place at the right time. Janet had been married right after high school, and her marriage had lasted only a few years. She told me she had vowed not to repeat that mistake, and had avoided serious relationships for a long time. I guess when she met me she had had her fill of whatever men she had been with. I had a steady job, I was clean, good looking enough, and healthy.

  I pulled into the parking lot and was surprised at how full it already was. I spotted a space in the last row, and just as I was about to pull in, a bright blue Mercedes roadster sports car cut me off and slid into the space. I slammed on the brakes and was about to give the driver the finger as he got out of the car, but stopped when I recognized the distinguished gray hair.

  The only thing I hated more than someone stealing a parking space was Janet’s boss, Martin.

  I drove off, not wanting to make a scene, knowing Janet needed this guy’s approval to do well. He was such an arrogant asshole that even if I had given him the finger, he probably wouldn’t have noticed, someone in a Toyota was too far beneath him to care about, although I suspected that even if I were in a Lexus he would have acted the same way.

  Some of my interest in going to the event had waned. I left the parking lot and drove around the block a few times, not caring for once about catching the traffic lights, finally parking in a public lot a few blocks away.

  I consoled myself with the thought that it would be me, and not Martin, who would go home with Janet tonight. With that in mind, I finally got out of the car.

  Janet hit the button on the steering wheel to end the hands free call. She hated being a nag. It was so unlike her, but if she hadn’t called Mason he probably would have forgotten all about the gallery event. He was a good man, she loved him, maybe not in that heart pounding lustful way of romance novels, but in a more meaningful way. Her earlier marriage, when she had been much younger, had been such a disaster, and most of her other relationships had been built more on physical connections rather than anything deeper. Mason had been just what she needed, and she was grateful for him.

  Mason’s new car purred in the traffic. Janet wasn’t that into cars. Even when she realized she needed something better than what she had been driving, she had been so busy that she didn’t have the time to go car shopping. It was a good thing; she so hated car dealers she probably would have just bought the first car available just to get out of the showroom. Mason had figured that out, had done all the legwork, and one day this nice Audi appeared in the driveway. Supposedly it was his, but any time she had an important work event he insisted she take his car. She knew the real reason he had bought it for himself; he wanted her to get comfortable with it, and then he’d buy her one too. And if she didn’t like it, he’d pick out something else. No man had ever been so thoughtful for her.

  Yet as happy as she was, and as good as her career was going, Janet couldn’t help but sometimes feel that there was something missing in her life, in their marriage. They both worked hard, they had come a long way from eating Ramen noodles every night, they had a nice house and a new car and both of them were healthy. Janet had to give up some of her outside activities for work, but she still had time for the gym and yoga, and though she had noticed a few tiny wrinkles around her eyes, she thought she looked damned good for being in her late thirties.

  Yet looking ahead, her life promised to be a little like the long line of traffic ahead—just more of the same. She was on a long, steady road in her career, putting in the necessary hours, not only at the office but on the road, her life filled with late night phone calls, last minute out of town meetings. Mason had his own thing going, a successful app development business, and because he preferred to work alone he had too much work all the time. Often they would go days barely seeing each other, Mason a night owl, Janet loving the mornings. He’d be asleep when she left for work, and when she got home she often didn’t want to disturb him in his home office, even though it might be past ten at night.

  They were like the proverbial two ships passing in the night, even though they worked in the same house.

  Maybe having kids would change it all, but she couldn’t even think about kids now. In her career, it would be hard. That sucked, it wasn’t fair, but it’s the way it was. Take time off, and your accounts went elsewhere, a big merger couldn’t wait for you to come back from maternity leave. And she wasn’t sure she was quite ready anyhow. Although now and then, when she and Mason were having sex, she fantasized about becoming pregnant, imagining Mason’s seed in her, shooting into her, making it to her womb. It must be the clock ticking, knowing she didn’t have many years left. One night, lying in the dark, she had actually whispered, “Make me pregnant!” as Mason had come inside her, the idea so overwhelmingly erotic, beyond the excitement she always got when a man came inside her, a thrill she had felt from the very first time she had intercourse.

  But when Mason had looked at her that night, asking her what she had said, she hadn’t told him. She mumbled something about him making her feel good, and he had, her orgasm had been incredible, one of the few times she had come with Mason j
ust from intercourse. Or any way, actually. He was a good husband, a pretty strong man physically, but oddly tentative in bed, and she had faked orgasms so often she no longer felt guilty about it. She’d never told Mason what she really enjoyed in bed, the kind of sex she had before; not only was that another life, but she didn’t want to suggest to her husband that he needed direction, that he wasn’t good at it. He was fine, actually, but just not always in the way she wanted.

  Mason was loving and kind and attractive enough in his own way, and though she loved him she had never lusted after him as she had with her first husband or some of the men she had dated before meeting Mason.

  But those relationships had been terrible, the men only into the sex. Maybe she had been the same way. So when Mason came along, he seemed like a breath of fresh air, honest, hard working. Who cared if he didn’t have the perfect hard body or a six pack? Or that he wasn’t especially good at oral sex, or at mixing it up a little? He’d learn.

  Or so she had thought. He hadn’t, he was just who he was.

  And over time, it mattered less and less. Their work and busy schedules left less time for the bedroom, and—she did feel guilty about this—she didn’t miss it that much. She loved Mason, loved sleeping next to him, loved having him for a husband, but whenever she felt the urge she could be just as happy touching herself in the shower, or in bed at night to help wind down after a long day, while Mason was pounding away at his computer downstairs.

  Like the traffic, their sex life had stalled.

  Janet longed to just be able to do something totally different, to shake things up, to unclog the jam, just as it would be great to fly over all these cars in her way. She didn’t know what would do it, she’d hinted around at a few things to Mason, nothing wild, she wasn’t really kinky or anything, but just something different. He had asked her what she meant, and she really couldn’t think of anything, she didn’t have a specific thought in mind. She had hoped that he would surprise her like he had with the car, fuck her in the kitchen, ask for a blowjob in the car, anything new might have given them the spark that could set them on a new path.