(Author's note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, and/or things is coincidental.)
Thank you to all who have written with feedback and story ideas. Writing is so much easier when the audience approves of the effort and has an interest in where the story is going.
The dream did not return that night and Gwen slept soundly, her husband's body wrapped around her own nude form. Still, she awoke several moments before the sound of alarm, more out of habit than distress, listening to the steady breathing of the man behind her. Gwen reveled in the feeling of warmth and security his body gave her, and she tried to wriggle even closer to him.
A sudden change in Tim's breathing announced his awakening a few minutes later. Gwen could hear her husband's pillow rustle as he turned to look at the clock, His body rolling away much to her regret, but only long enough for Tim to turn off the alarm before it sounded. He rolled back and captured her again, giving her a strong one-armed hug.
"Morning," he grumbled softly behind her neck.
"Morning." Gwen hugged his draped arm closely against her body, flattening her breasts beneath it. The two lay there for another fifteen minutes, lightly dozing while enjoying the feel of each other, before Tim reluctantly flipped back the covers and rolled of his side of the bed. "Got that job over at the Urgent Care clinic today," he reminded her as he shuffled towards the shower. Gwen watched his firm butt ripple and sway across the room before he disappeared behind the bathroom wall and she rose to make breakfast. She thought briefly about just throwing on a robe over her naked body before deciding against it as too risky, donning her traditional nightgown and panties instead. She allowed herself one small breach of propriety and omitted a bra.
After they had eaten, Tim made his way out to the shop while Gwen cleaned up the kitchen and headed for her own shower. The nightgown-clad woman carefully disrobed and turned to step under the hot spray before stopping short as she caught a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror. Turning back, she examined at her uncovered body, something she normally avoided doing any more than necessary, as she had always believed it to be a conceited act. What caught her attention was the vee of dark hair between her legs. Gwen gently touched the matted thatch, finding her husband's efforts the night before had left her coarse hair stiff and clumped with their dried secretions. The Lady was repelled at the thought, but Gwen smiled to herself, remembering how unconcerned Tim had seemed at touching her down there before she had made herself presentable, and how good his attention had felt. She also smiled at the sheer perversity of her actions once she had reached the bathroom after her climax.
Gwen ran her fingers through the reminder for several minutes, ostensibly to "comb it out," before stepping into the stall. The folds of her sex got the same thorough attention the patch above it had received as the daydreaming woman thought of her husband's callused fingers, and soon she was working herself into self-induced resolution to the rapidly growing feelings of pleasure radiating through her body.
The Lady put a stop to it, brusquely reminded her Tim was waiting in the workshop, and the boys would be there any moment. Touching herself was wrong at any time, but with responsibilities waiting—no way! Reluctantly she pulled her hands away from her crotch and her mind away from her arousal, finished her shower, and joined her husband across the yard.
The day was like any other after that, trucks dispatched, horses tended to, ordering done and invoices generated. It was nearly 3pm before she glanced in horror at the calendar that reminded her the Chamber of Commerce dinner was 5 days away. Despite all of her trips to the mall, she had still not found a dress! She resolved to go that night, after Tim had returned and been fed. The idea that there might be more people there after work crossed her mind as well...she made her way back to the house and selected the appropriate attire for her shopping trip with the idea she would leave right after dinner.
Walt was the first back that afternoon. Walt Phillips was nearing retirement and had been working for the company since before Tim and Gwen bought it from old Mr. McGilvary. If he had been upset that the business had been sold to that young man fresh out of trade school, he never showed it. Instead, he had been a solid and dependable employee all these years. "Evening, Gwen," he called out as he opened the truck door and extricated himself from behind the wheel. Tim often wondered in private how the man could get into some of the tight spaces necessary to work given that belly, but somehow the job always got done.
"Hi Walt," she replied as Andrew, the big plumber's apprentice for the day, gingerly slid out of his side of the cab. Gwen quickly spotted his pained movement. "Andrew? Are you alright?"
"Andrew here learned a valuable lesson about the thermal retention properties of copper," Walt said with mock seriousness before the young man could answer. Gwen's confused look made him continue. "He leaned back against a live hot water line."
"Oh my goodness, Andrew, are you alright?" she asked, her motherly concern quickly taking center stage. "Let me see!"
"I'm alright ma'am, really," he replied without much enthusiasm.
Gwen didn't believe a word. "Take that shirt off, young man so I can see if you need a doctor," she commanded. Reluctantly, Andrew loosened his belt and removed the blue Nelson Plumbing t-shirt, gingerly pulling it over his shoulder blades. The anxious woman only had a moment to admire the well-sculpted hairless chest and abdominal muscles of the sandy-haired youth before gently grabbing an elbow and turning him so she could examine his back.
A bright-red welt ran from halfway up one blade across to the other, only a small patch of unblemished skin breaking up the straight line. "No blistering yet," she said softly while taking a closer look. "You'll have to keep an eye on this, but I don't think you'll need to see a doctor—unless you want to, of course," she added quickly.
"No, I'm fine, really ma'am," he replied as he turned back to her. "It just feels like a sunburn." Andrew moved to put his shirt back on, but Gwen stopped him.
"DO NOT put that rag back on--that thing is filthy," she admonished. "Come with me. I've got some burn ointment and a clean shirt in the house. Walter, why didn't you call this in when it happened?"
"He didn't tell me it happened. I just noticed he moved quick, then a while later he was movin' funny. I didn't get the whole story out of him until we got in the truck and he couldn't sit back."
"Well, for not noticing, you get to unload the truck on your own. Andrew, come with me."
She didn't see the older man smiling as the two headed across the yard.
"Wait here," Gwen directed as they stepped into the kitchen. She made a beeline to where she kept the ointment—she knew exactly where it was, she knew exactly where everything was in her house—and returned, salve and wet washcloth in hand.