Tuesday, September 22, 2009

The Trophy Wife, part 2

As I let my mind dwell on that lovely interlude, my hands moved, seemingly with a mind of their own, one to pinch a stiff nipple and roll it between my fingers and the other to caress the slightly swollen nubbin between my thighs.  Shaking my head to clear it,  I snapped back to the present and continued my shower.  Oc course, I diddnt' have to shave my legs because Roger likes me waxed and, since the early days of our relationship, I've kept myself smooth and hairless below the neck except for a cute little patch of sandy blonde curls .  I talked to Roger about laser hair removal a couple of years ago, but he things that a little pain is good for me now and again.  I guess he's right, because each time that Jessie at the salon rips away the few hairs that have the nerve to keep growing back, it reminds me that I'm making a sacrifice to stay pretty for my man.  I don't mind really, because it really does feel divine when Roger runs his strong hands over my smooth skin. 

After my shower, I wrapped my shoulder length hair in a towel and went to my dressing room to get ready for the evening.  We didn't have plans to go out anywhere special, but Roger likes me to be dressed well when he gets home.  He told me once, "Julie, what's the point in having a trophy wife if she doesn't look pretty enough to be put up on a pedestal?"  Well, I didn't have an answer for him, but it pleases him when I dress up, and I certainly like the way it makes him look at me.  And I don't mind telling you that sometimes those pretty outfits of mine don't stay on very long after Roger gets home! 

As I thought about what to wear, I preened in the full length mirror, enjoying how I looked wearing nothing but my wedding ring.  I'm fairly tall at 5'7", and it would be false modesty to say that I'm not proud of how I look naked.  Tennis and yoga keep me fit and slender, and I'm lucky enough that I take a nice tan without too much time spent by the pool.  My hips may be a bit  boyish, but Roger tells me that my ass is "spankably plump", while my waist is slender and my tummy is perfectly flat.  My breasts are firm and high if slightly smaller than the generous b-cup that I'd like to have.  Still, the right bra works wonders on my cleavage, ans when Roger sees me in a corset... lookout! 

After my reverie in the shower, I was feeling a bit naughty, so I decided that a garter belt and stockings were in order.  I took a wispy little black garter belt from my lingerie chest and buckled it around my waist, sliding it around to line up the straps.  Then, taking out a pair of seamed stilk stockings, I sat down at my vanity to slip them on.  Jess had given me a mani-pedi just that morning, so I knew that the cute pink polish on my toes was flawless.  As I slipped the stockings up my smooth legs, I felt goosebumps break out on my arms.  The feeling of stockings slipping up (or down!) my long shapely legs never fails to give me a thrill.  The feel of silk on bare legs is so nice, that I can't understand why more men don't start shaving all over.  Of course, I'd never expect a man like Roger to do something as silly as shaving his legs, and, after all, when his hairy legs brush against my smooth ones in bed it does make me feel delightfully feminine. 

Standing, I snapped the garter straps to my stockings and checked to make sure that the seams were straight.  Walking back to the lingerie chest, I felt the straps tugging at my stockings and thought about what a uniquely feminine sensation that was.  No matter how I'm dressed, when I'm wearing a garterbelt and stockings, each step reminds me that I'm wearing something sexy for my husband.  Before I met Roger I never wore garter belts, but now I can't imagine life without them! 

I slipped on a black thong and a matching demi-bra that does an admirable job of showcasing my assets, then set about picing out a dress.  I ended up settling on a black shift that  just covered my stocking tops and with a neckline that revealed enough of my decolletage to be interesting without going overboard.  After drying and brushing my hair, I put on just a hint of make-up, finishing with a yummy wet-look lipstick.  I slipped into my dress and a nice pair of heels and went back downstairs.  Roger's kind enough to let me have a maid three days a week, but he says a little housework is good for me, so I always make sure that the house is presentable before he comes home.  

I walked through the downstairs, my heels clicking on the hardwood floors, and gave the place a once over.  Everything lookded alright, so I stepped into the butler's pantry to check the bar.  You see, we have this little retro ritual almost every evening.  When Roger comes home, I greet him at the door with a kiss and then I bring his favorite martini to him in his study.  I'll sit on his lap in his easy chair while he tells me about his day at work.  Some times it leads to other things, but mostly its just our little ritual to end the day and start the evening.   

I checked the clock again, 5:45, Roger would be home at any minute!  I put a martini glass in the freezer, poured myself a little glass of wine, and sat down to wait.  A few minutes later, I heard Roger's car pull into the drive.  I went to the door and there he was..  Roger is quite a man, and I love to drink in the sight of him.  His 6'3" height and 210lbs of muscle make me feel like a little wisp of nothing when I'm in his arms.  "Oh Roger, darling, welcome home!" I said, putting my arms around his neck and offering my lips for a kiss.  Roger wrapped me in a bear hug, lifting my feet off the floor and kissing me thoroughly.  "Hey, baby.  How's my little girl doing?"  "Oh, I'm fine, darling.  How was your day?"  "Not bad sugarbum, how about a martini?"  "Of course, darling, I'll bring it to your study." 

We sat in th study, me sitting on Roger's lap and leaning back with my head resting on his shoulder; Roger with a martini in one hand and the other arm wrapped around my waist, with his hand resting on my thigh just where my garter belt met my stocking.  As he talked, Roger absently slid his hand under the edge of my shift and toyed with my garter clip.  " I ran into Norm Cheng today..." he said, and I briefly stiffened in his lap.  "Oh really?" I said with deliberate nonchalance. Norm and I had run a business together in California until Roger and his company "acquired" us in a merger/takeover.  That's how Roger and I met.  He'd been in charge of the takeover team and we'd been thrown together a good bit during the process.  Roger is the kind of man who gets what he wants and he took a shine to me.  I guess you could say that he "acquired" me along with my company.  I'd retired from business after the buyout was complete and my life had really changed after I became involved with Roger.  Consequently, I hadn't seen Norm since I moved to Connecticut with Roger.  Nor had always been the frontman in our business, while I'd worked mostly in the background.  He was still very active in the industrly, so I wasn't sure what he'd think about my new role as a housewife.   

To be continued...

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

The Trophy Wife

The day had slipped by, as they tend to do, when I looked up at the kitchen clock and realized that it was time for me to start getting ready for my husband to get home.  It was already 4:30 and here I was still in the white tennis dress that I'd worn to my afternoon lesson at the club.  Roger would be home around 5:45, so I put down the copy of Cosmopolitan that I'd been leafing through (50 Ways to Light His Fire!) and went upstairs to make myself pretty for him.
Our shower is large enough to fit two comfortably, and as I luxuriated in the spray and steam, I let my mind wander back to the last time that it had.  Just last week I'd been taking my morning shower when Roger, who'd been up since dawn getting ready for an important business meeting, slipped into the shower with me.  He grabbed me by my hips and turned me around to face him, kissing me hard on the lips and pulling my body close to his.  As his tongue parted my lips, I returned his kiss and let my soft, smooth body melt against his hard, hairy one.  Roger's hands drifted down to my ass and squeezed as he broke the kiss.  "Damn, you are one sexy bitch!", he growled, looking into my eyes.  I felt my face flush as my nipples stiffened against his hairy chest.  "Roger, what's gotten into you this morning?," I asked, as my hands drifted up to caress his muscular flanks.  "I've been working on the PharmTech merger and just thinking about how I was going to screw those bastards made me think about how much I'd rather screw my gorgeous wife."  The look of lust in his eyes was quite flattering, as was the proof of his statement that I felt hardening against my soapy belly.  I reached down and grasped my husband's member, amazed by its throbbing heat as it grew to its full (and impressive!) length in my hand...