A New Way of Seeing Things

(Author's note: Thank you to all who have sent encouraging comments and e-mails! Writing is much easier when you know you have an interested audience.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, and/or things is coincidental.

For those who have not read the first part of this story yet, this part may make more sense if you do.)

The next morning Gwen was in the workshop, handing out assignments and doing inventory while Tim and the other plumbers and apprentices loaded the trucks with the tools and materials needed for the day. She made sure to check that "her boys," as she affectionately called them, were dressed cleanly and neatly in pants and shirts that reflected the professionalism that Nelson Plumbing was known for.

"Cliff, the cuffs of your pants are starting to fray a bit. I'll order you a couple of new pairs. The same size as last time?'

"Yes ma'am, he replied with a polite smile. The muscular black man had been one of Tim's first apprentices, and had been with the company ever since. He and the others always thought of Gwen as more of a house mother than a boss.

"I'll call it in today," she said as she handed him a couple of signed estimates. "Anyone else need anything?"

No one spoke up, and soon all of the trucks were out of the yard, leaving her to tend to the horses before making the hundred-yard commute back to the office above the workshop. The morning flew by—billing days always did—and thankfully she had no time to think of the events of the previous twenty-four hours. Lunch consisted of a rushed salad brought over from the house, and she did not look up from her paperwork again until nearly three o'clock.

A rivulet of sweat running down the small of her back reminded her the air conditioning in the office could only do so much against the Georgia heat. A good time for a swim, she decided as she signed the check for the last bill in the pile.

Gwen was halfway across the yard when the cellphone she held sounded the tone of an incoming call from her husband. "Nelson Plumbing," she answered while juggling phone and empty lunch container. It could be his apprentice Jordan, she reminded herself.

"Hi honey, it's me."

"Hi Tim, I'm just heading back to the house. What's up?"

"Wanted to let you know we're probably going to be back late tonight. We just now got that old water heater out—I can't believe how they wedged it in there—and they need hot water by breakfast tomorrow. I sent Jordan out for some more ¾" copper, and when he gets back I'll send him out to get us some dinner while I put the feed lines back in."

"Got it. Remind him to save the receipts."

Tim laughed. "Already have. I told him that if he forgot, he has to face you."

"I'm not that bad," Gwen fussed. "Do you want me to send one of the other trucks over?"

"No, we can barely get one pair of hands in that space. Cliff or Walt would just stand around critiquing my work. If you can just check in with them when they come back, see if they ran into any problems today, need anything..."

"Sure will. I'll keep the phone nearby. Call me if you need anything."

"Will do. Love you, Gwen."

"Love you, too."

Gwen reversed the juggling act to open the screen door, setting the food bowl down in the sink before moving off to the bedroom to change. Grabbing the door handle, she paused before swinging it shut. This is silly, the woman reasoned. No one's here. Still, she listened carefully for the sound of anyone who might be in the house before boldly leaving the door open and stripping down to her underwear. Gwen began to move to the master bath, where her suit hung on the back of the door, but stopped halfway across the room. I could use a glass of wine, she thought, and that lunch bowl isn't going to get into the dishwasher on its own. Accepting her own dare, she stepped into the hallway, clad in nothing more than her bra and panties.

Gwen could not ever remember being this undressed outside of her bedroom. Underwear, nightgown and robe were par for the course when moving about the house in the early morning, and clothes were an absolute requirement after breakfast. She crept down the hall, the excitement of such a risqué act tempered with the feeling that this was wrong. The weight of the Slut and the Lady was heavy on each shoulder.

As a young girl, Gwen had seen a cartoon depicting a devil on one shoulder of the main character and an angel on the other, each trying to exert their influence. The devil won several times, each with disastrous yet hilarious results, before the angel had the last laugh.

From this had come Gwen's own version, the Slut and the Lady. The Slut was always dressed in a tight red corset and fishnet stockings, requisite horns perched atop her head, while the Lady, exuding a certain motherly glow, dressed in a pantsuit and stylish jacket,. When they appeared, the two would fight, Gwen would agree with the Lady, and decency prevailed. This time, however, she stepped back and watched, unwilling to take a side.

She made her way to the kitchen, the Slut smiling broadly at the change in the odds. Gwen deliberately took her time loading the dishwasher, bending over it much longer than necessary, the motion drawing her full panties into her crotch. The coolness of the house had eased her need for a swim and the Lady argued for her to get dressed, but still she lingered, wiping down counters, adding things to the shopping list. Eventually, Gwen found herself standing at the window looking out towards the shop. Get away from there, somebody might see you, the Lady shouted. Who, the squirrels? The Slut countered. Her excitement rose. What if someone did see her? What would she do? What would they do? The feelings of arousal grew, and Gwen knew this was a dangerous game she was playing. With no idea as to when Tim might be home, there was no guarantee of relief from the building pressure.

You could touch yourself, the Slut suggested as she wrestled the Lady to the ground and sat on her chest. The Lady tried to regain her footing, but Gwen smiled to herself, happy that the Slut had won this round. Her unfocused gaze was on the sunny yard before her as her hand began to turn languid circles on her bare stomach, each pass drawing her closer to the waistband of her underwear while the other hand came up to cup her bra-covered breast.

This will only lead to trouble, the Lady squeaked before her mouth was covered by the Slut's hand. No it won't, the corseted mini-Gwen replied, but only one way to find out that I'm right. Gwen's hand slipped beneath under the front of her panties, fingers sliding through her thick, curly thatch, until the middle one found her clit. She gasped as the contact caused a jolt like an electric shock to race through her body. Her finger delicately circled the nub, mini-shocks continuing to fire as the Lady struggled to remove the hand from her mouth while the Slut smiled and nodded knowingly. Gwen's other hand grasped at the flesh of her breast, annoyed with the rough fabric between it and the nipple crying for attention beneath.

She lost track of time, her climax barely giving a warning of its approach before exploding upon her, the mini-shocks turning to intense waves of pleasure radiating from her sex. The force of the orgasm buckled her legs, and she sank to one knee, her hand leaving her breast to grasp the windowsill for support as her muscles spasmed wildly. The pleasure was not quite as intense as those from the night before—guilt and shame still cast shadows deep in the recesses of her mind—but what she was experiencing was still incredible nonetheless. Her head slumped to rest on her outstretched forearm while her breathing began to steady. Minutes passed.

Gwen, the Slut and the Lady all froze as the sound of thunder, the bolt of doom the Lady always predicted, began to grow louder. Gwen looked up in fear to see the noise was actually Cliff's truck come up the dirt driveway and pulling into the yard. With a squeak of panic, the half-naked woman slunk away from the window before running to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her as she hurriedly re-dressed. Moments later she was hurrying across the yard to where the truck was being unloaded.

"Tim's going to be late," Gwen announced as she approached the two men. "He wanted me to check in with you to see if you guys needed anything."

Cliff glanced at the woman and resisted doing a double-take. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone, the flapping lapels teasing him with a glimpse of cleavage, while two buttons below, the shirt gapped where she had forgotten another one. He knew that with the right angle, he would be able to get a glimpse of her bra-covered tit for the first time ever. He had seen plenty of titties in his life; but this is one he never expected to see. Gwen Nelson was the most prim, proper woman he had ever met. Underneath all those layers, though, he just knew she was a fine-looking woman.

"No Gwen, everything's good. I was just going to grab some more relief valves and put them on the truck before I go. Mike, how about you? Anything I'm forgetting?"

Gwen turned to look at the young apprentice. Cliff smiled as the blouse opened when she moved, revealing the fabric-covered side of what he now became more apparent as a pretty little breast. Just more than a mouthful, he guessed.

"No ma'am, nothing I can think of." Cliff smiled again. As he told all the apprentices, "When you become a plumber, you can call her Gwen. Until then, she's Mrs. Nelson, or ma'am, to you.

"Can I get you boys something to drink before you go?" She offered, gesturing to the refrigerator in the shop.

"No, not for me," Cliff replied. "Ty's got a game tonight, and I'm on my way to meet Cheryl there."

"Oh. Well, tell him hit a home run for me."

He laughed. "If it's alright with you, I'll tell him you asked him to take a pitch. That boy needs to learn some plate discipline."

The two men climbed into their vehicles and took their leave. Gwen barely had time to climb the stairs to the office before the sound of Walt and Andrew's truck crunching across the gravel could be heard above the air conditioning. The process of unloading for the night was repeated, and fifteen minutes later, Gwen was stepping back into her kitchen.

It wasn't until she had opened the refrigerator and bent over the crisper to grab some green beans that she noticed the buttons she had missed. She stood up, hand flying to cover her gasp of horror as she realized four men had seen her like that. Gwen's mind raced to recreate the time she had been at the workshop—did any of them say or do anything that might let on she had been hanging out for all the world to see? The Lady sputtered in indignation while the Slut said nothing, a knowing smile on her face. If they had noticed anything, they were too polite to let on, the alarmed and aroused woman grudgingly acknowledged to herself. The smile disappeared from the Lady's face as Gwen found herself imagining they had noticed. Particularly the apprentices, barely past their teen years, Gwen knew that men that age only had one thing on their mind. Did they like looking at her? She made her way back to the bedroom and again discarded jeans and shirt, returning to the kitchen clad in her underwear, her robe nearby this time. She found great delight in cooking dinner that way, making a plate for Tim and setting it in the microwave for when he got home.

After she had eaten, Gwen briefly considered staying in her state of undress until her husband returned, wanting to see his reaction, but she reminded herself that Jordan would be with him. Reluctantly, she donned her nightgown and robe, watching TV until 9. Tim had still not arrived, and so she wrote him a quick note welcoming him and home and pointing him to his dinner, then went to bed.

She awoke two hours later to the sound of his truck in the yard. She briefly thought about going to meet him, but was still half-asleep under the covers when he came into the bedroom. Tim kissed her lightly on the cheek and began stripping down before disappearing into the bathroom for a much-needed shower, pale-white butt and legs contrasting against his tanned torso. She envied him his ability to walk around naked like that, and while she knew it was wrong to look, she really did enjoy the view.

He emerged twenty minutes later, clad in only the boxer shorts she had laid out for him. Gwen had set out a Nelson Plumbing t-shirt as well, but she knew it unlikely he would wear it to bed—he never did.

"Welcome home," she whispered as he settled onto the mattress with a groan.

"I thought you had apprentices to do all the grunt work," he grumbled. "Moving old water heaters with your fingertips is a young man's job. Darn, I'm tired.Thanks for making me dinner. G'night honey." He rolled to his side to kiss her before collapsing back. In what seemed like seconds, his soft rhythmic breathing told Gwen he was asleep. She was right behind him, any feelings of remorse she might have had over her actions of the past two days thankfully asleep as well.

...she was at the mall, on that raised area in the center court where musicians played and Santa had his workshop during the holidays. Only today, the attraction was her. She was naked, standing on some sort of turntable that was slowly rotating while all around her, shoppers strolled by, seemingly oblivious to the spectacle on stage. Her arms had been bound behind her in a way to force her proud breasts out at the passers-by while her ankles had been chained to where she stood, legs spread enough to display her sex to any who might wish to look. And yet, the disc beneath her continued to turn and no one showed the slightest interest.

Except one man. She caught him out of the corner of her eye as her nude body rotated, his complete attention on the display in front of him. She sensed, rather than knew, that it was the man from the dressing room. He too was naked, an immense erection too big to be humanly possible pointing out at her from beneath his pot belly, his hand poised at the end of the pink-headed monster as her breasts and sex came into view. Finally facing him, their eyes met while his hand began to stroke...

She awoke with a small gasp, her body wet with perspiration. Beside her, Tim lay undisturbed, breathing bordering on a soft snore. Just a dream, she assured herself. Just a dream. And while she was disturbed at the still-fresh images in her mind, she also realized she wanted to return to them, to see what the man would do next. Gwen knew sleep was not going to come again without some guilt and soul-searching. With a sigh, she rose and tried to focus on the clock. 4:30. The thought of a shower to rinse the rapidly evaporating sweat off sounded appealing, but doing so might wake Tim.

Might was well just get a head start on breakfast, Gwen decided, and reached for her robe. It's just me and Tim, I don't need that, she boldly declared, and made her way to the kitchen.

Tim found her sitting there at the table, absentmindedly sipping her coffee when he awoke an hour and a half later. Kissing her on the top of her head, he made his way to the coffeemaker. "Everything OK? You're up pretty early." The fact she was out here in just her nightgown was just another reason for the question.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine, just couldn't sleep." Gwen got up and moved to the stove. "Now that you're up, let me finish these eggs and bacon." They ate while Tim recounted the previous day's events, detailing every painful step taken to get the job to a point where they could leave for the night. Gwen half-listened, occasionally interjecting an "uh-huh" or a "hmmm" where she thought appropriate.

"Seems like you've got something on your mind," Tim said as he took another forkful of egg.

"Oh, just stuff I have to do today," she quickly explained. "I'm going down into town for copier paper and toner. And I still need to find a dress for the Chamber of Commerce dinner."

"You don't have to go to the dinner if you don't want to," her husband said as he took his plate to the sink. "Cliff and I can go and shake hands."

"No, no, I should go," she replied. The resignation in her voice made Tim believe she considered it a chore. In reality, Gwen was facing the prospect of what she really planned to do today, and that she was powerless to stop it.

The morning progressed as most other mornings did, trucks dispatched, horses tended, and eventually Gwen found herself back in the house, preparing for her trip downtown. A more concrete plan had formed while she mucked stalls. First stop was Alison's room. The size of Ali's college dorm room and the apartment she now shared down in town with her new husband Jason had dictated that some things be left behind as she moved. Closing the door behind her, she stood in front of the dresser filled with her daughter's belongings.

Tim and Gwen's daughters had inherited their parents' looks—strangers would take in Ali and her mother's good looks and build and conclude they sisters separated by just a few years, while KD took after Tim, albeit with 36D breasts and some college party padding.

Despite their strikingly similar builds, mother and daughter had rarely, if ever, borrowed each other's clothes. Alison found the older woman's style of dress to be ultra-conservative at best, while Gwen was frankly shocked at the some of the things her daughters had worn out of the house as teenagers. Their mother had desperately wanted to step in and make them "lady-like," but Tim had had his way on this one, gently reminding his wife their daughters were their own people and had been raised to make the right decisions.

The chest before her contained clothes, including underwear, Gwen assumed. She had done enough laundry to know the scandalous things her daughter had covered her private parts with, and it was her hope she had left some behind in her drawer. She had snooped on her daughters when they were teenagers, telling herself it was her duty and right to check for any drug paraphernalia they might be hiding. The worst she had ever found was an unopened box of condoms in KD's underwear drawer. Gwen had wanted to confront her daughter on the discovery, but couldn't bring herself to speak of it. Tim's reaction was one of relief that his daughter was using protection, and the matter had been shelved, the box carefully placed back she had found it. Gwen had stopped the drug-checks after they went off to college, however, and she honestly didn't know what Ali might have left.

A pull of the drawer handle revealed bras and panties of all styles and types jumbled together, as if her daughter had just dug through them to select those that would be going with her. Gwen scanned the disorderly piles for a moment before gingerly removing a bra. It seemed as if there were no weight whatsoever to it when compared to the ones she wore. It was a light blue color, of simple cotton construction, with the clasp at the front. A quick check of the tag showed the size to be about right. With a deep breath, she pulled the Nelson Plumbing t-shirt over her head and quickly reached behind her back to unclasp her full bra. Shucking it from her shoulders and laying it on the bed along with her shirt. Gwen wasted no time in pulling on Ali's leftover, finding the cotton surprisingly comfortable against her breasts when compared to the thick wire lined restrainers she normally wore. Her erect nipples made clear impressions against the thin cups, and she considered trying something more substantial before deciding to stick with her plan.

A matching pair of panties were in plain sight, but the woman's attention was focused on a white lacy garment buried near the back. Gently she pulled it out to reveal a small triangular patch of whispy fabric, one strip of elastic attached to two of the corners, another strip attached to the middle of the first string and the third corner. This can't be comfortable to wear for any length of time, Gwen thought. That one string would run right through your butt crack and up through the other one...it began to dawn on her that perhaps these were only meant to be worn for a short time. The thought of her own daughter, teasing a man with this before taking it off for him altogether ran through her head before she dismissed it. Even the Slut knew it would be too much to push for these. You really are sick, she muttered, and put the thong back where she had found it and selected the blue panties.