"Honey, what the hell are all these boxes out here? Looks like IPS got lazy again and left them far from the door."
"How would I know? Bring them in and check the labels." Her annoyed tone could be very grating.
The three big, heavy boxes were neatly stacked on the bottom two steps and overlapped. There was a large red heart sticker on each box. I soon discovered a familiar name on them. "They're all from your boyfriend Steve." THAT should irritate her. We'd been arguing again and this was my little counter attack. Steve frequently flirted with her even when I was near, and she didn't discourage it. We all worked at a supposedly ultra conservative, big computer company. The literally starched shirts at IIM had become mostly for image. Under them were often teddies or frilly underwear - even the women wore them! The common erotic chatter could make the founder spin in his grave.
"You WISH he were my boyfriend. I know you want to watch me fuck someone else. What's in the boxes?"
She was right about that. I love watching her squirm with embarrassment since I know she will then turn that into an all night sex fest if I do it right. There's little that she allows to embarrass her and I still don't fully understand it. She's often embarrassed by the oddest things that don't bother most of us. She still adamantly claims she's modest and shy, but heaven forbid I try to support that 'modesty'. Ms bashful usually goes to work braless in a buttoned shirt with several buttons open. I made the mistake of pointing out once, just once, that her tits were exposed and she loudly stormed off in a rage. We didn't talk for a week. She goes in and out of her exhibitionist denial phase without warning.
Once, as proof of her modesty, she wore to a work party a mid calf but snug skirt with a small 10 inch slit. Hard to exploit that. Yet, she found a way. Getting out of the car with over a dozen people near, she pivoted one leg out of the car and paused. The long green skirt climbed above her knees as she held them spread as wide as the skirt allowed, then tried harder. She slid to the edge of the seat and ignored the skirt's ascension, but the rest of us struggled to guess if her panty was dark or all hair. I guess no one ever taught her how a 'lady' gets out of a car or seat 'properly'. She loved the tease, but couldn't admit that either. Her antics were a frequent cause of bitterness. I wanted to support whatever she wanted, if I could only figure it out. I was willing to expose her if that gave her a thrill, even willing to share her and learn to like it. MY anger, I finally figured out, was about being excluded, about the inevitable secrets, about being her strawman. Since Valentine's day was the next day, I wanted an unusual gift that she would enjoy and remember. I began to plot my scheme and hope for the best.
"This first one has books, lots of books. The next one has cooking tools? And a card. It says 'Thanks for all your close and intimate help with my problem. Love Steve. P.S. Happy V.D. ;-))' What should I make of that? What intimate problem did you help him fix? Should I be worried?"
"Well, my jealous man, I think he thinks it's intimate and I'm not sure I should tell even you about it." I could hear the tease in her tone. Maybe I really could ramp up a fake fight and get her to do what she enjoys but won't admit?
"This stuff must have been VERY expensive to ship, so I doubt he thinks it's a joke. I wonder why he shipped it instead of dropping it off. He only lives a few miles away. He IS saying thanks for something, but I don't know what. It's a big deal to him and you can use all this stuff, so maybe you should send him a Thank You/Valentine's Day note. Want some help writing it? Ha!" Now she has the ball.
"You're right. But a simple note won't do it. I'll think of a better way to thank him. Hmmmmm ... Maybe I'll stop by his place after work and show him how grateful I am."
So, she is going to play. "Well, have fun. Let me know if I can help." As expected, she said nothing and left for work. She called at five to say she was working until six, then going to Steve's. Without prodding, she would probably hang out there a while then try to tease me that something happened between them. I decided to push her tonight and went to Steve's in time to see her ring his bell. After giving her a minute, I peeked in the window before knocking. It seemed innocent with both standing in the family room ten feet apart.
I rang the bell and Steve quickly let me in. "Hi, what are you doing here? Sue JUST got here, we-e-e uh sh-e-e's uhh fine, there's nothing going on... ' I wonder what he is so nervous about. "I was about to..."
"Relax, Steve. We're fine. I just came by to lend a hand if needed. Sue just wanted..."
" ... to express my gratitude for all you sent me. I really appreciate the sentiment and it wasn't necessary."
"Oh, please. There's no need to thank me for a Thank You gift. That can get awkward and make someone uncomfortable."
"You hear that, hun? You're making him uncomfortable." Time to push her limits. "You're standing there so stiff, in your business clothes, it's no wonder. Relax and loosen up some and we'll all feel at ease. Though I love your royal blue outfit, at least take off your jacket."
Sue arched one eyebrow and paused silently a few seconds. "Umm, sure. You're right. After all, this isn't a business meeting with the stuffed shirts at IIM." Steve dipped his head and coughed loudly. "I want you to feel comfortable." As her jacket languidly slipped off her shoulders, she thrust her chest forward. Her swelling nipples strained her white, silky blouse in testimony that she was, as usual, braless. The three open buttons allowed her billowy blouse, now unconstrained by the heavier jacket, to expose her always surprising cleavage from her barely-B cups. So, she was finally listening to my advice to tease and expose slowly! But now? I took a second to confirm that Steve's eyes were locked on her individually swinging breasts before admiring them myself. "There, that's better. Ummm, I still feel too formal and constrained. I'm going to take off my panty hose, if that's OK with you two."
"Well, uhh, whatever makes you more at ease." Steve replied, with a furtive and nervous glance at me. "Why don't we sit a minute?"
Steve and I sat on a sofa and Sue moved closer to us. She kicked off her shoes and tried only hiking her skirt to mid thigh and tugging on the hose. She knew that wouldn't work, so she already committed to working the game. "This damn skirt is too tight to do this." So Sue reached back and unzipped the skirt. Somewhat flushed, she looked back and forth at both of us before obviously deciding ... The skirt, already unhitched, quickly fell to the floor. Steve's jaw dropped. Though I'd seen her shed all her clothes thousands of times, sitting next to a near stranger who also watched her strip was different. As far as I know, she never went this far before. The tight hose further sculpted her already sexy and shapely legs. "Now I can get these off." She lifted her shirt to grab the waist of the hose and rolled it down. Her silky white panties were loose and slid down slightly. Steve pushed his jaw closed and, trying to hide his growing rod, shifted on the sofa. When Sue bent to roll the hose down her calves, her blouse billowed and we caught a glimpse of a turgid, perfect nipple topping her loose tit. Steve groaned and rearranged his pants. My exhibitionist wife still hid her arousal behind a naive facade. She kicked the hose to join her skirt. "There. Is that better? Everyone relaxed now?"
.... There is more of this story ...