"Dammit!" I exclaimed. "You weren't always this frigid, so don't treat me like I'm an idiot!"
Calling Sheila "frigid" was a mistake I had made once before. She hates being called that, but hey, the truth hurts. I was angry, so I had blurted it out.
The argument started when our two kids had been invited to sleep over at their cousins' house. I immediately had thoughts of going out with her for the evening with her wearing next to nothing. On a couple of rare occasions previously, Sheila had gone out with me braless, wearing something somewhat sheer, so that if someone were paying attention, they could see her nipples. This made me very happy. On one of these occasions, she had become so excited, when we left the bar and got back to our car, she removed all of her clothes and rode naked all the way home as I fingered her. But that was several years ago, and since then she has shut everything down. Love making is rare. Dressing sexy is out of the question.
So when I had suggested that she dress up again for me this weekend, she snapped at me about how much she hates when I tell her what to wear. She ranted about how she doesn't like to be seen in public in something daring, and that I must have a problem if I like that sort of thing.
I started calmly by trying to explain how much I admire her body. For being 47 years old, she looks great with a 36C chest and narrow waist with shapely hips. I then built momentum by naming the times she had dressed up for me previously, and how much fun she obviously had. I capped it off with the line about being frigid and stomped out of the room.
She didn't follow me. I was not surprised, and I fully expected to not hear her voice for a full week. Our Saturday with no kids would be spent in her parent's basement (where we lived temporarily until our new home was ready) in silence.
A short time later, she approached me and gently apologized and explained how she had been so stressed due to opening her own law firm. She said if I was willing to take her shopping, we could pick out some clothes for Saturday.
I was surprised at her coming to me that way. She's not the apologetic type. Therefore, I was dubious of how sincere she was. But I agreed to take her shopping on my day off, which is Wednesday. When Wednesday came, we went to the mall and she asked me what I wanted her to wear. I told her I had pictured her in a short skirt with thigh high stockings, and a shirt that she already owns. The shirt is a stretchy, thin white pull-over that if worn braless would be spectacular. So we shopped and settled on a plaid, pleated skirt that came down to a couple of inches above her knees. We then found a pair of textured thigh-highs at Victoria's Secret. Add some heels and WOW!
It seemed like an eternity for Saturday to arrive. The kids were picked up, and when the in-laws left for Saturday Mass, we started dressing. I put on a pair of slacks and a silk shirt with my black Italian loafers. Sheila asked me what she should wear. I immediately figured she had scrapped the idea of the short skirt. She sensed my confusion and clarified that I had never told her which shirt I had in mind to go with the skirt. I pulled the shirt off the rack and handed it to her. "Which bra?" she asked. When I said "None", she hesitated, then wordlessly walked into the bathroom to dress. When she reemerged, I was struck breathless. She had on exactly what I asked. Her nipples were perfectly visible through the tight, stretchy shirt, and her muscular legs looked awesome in the thigh high stockings sticking out under the skirt. She said she hadn't put on underwear yet, and asked what I wanted her to wear, and added firmly that she would be wearing underwear no matter what I wanted. I chose not to argue, and picked out a pair of silver and black sparkly panties. When she hiked up her skirt to put them on, I could see she had trimmed her pubic hair down to a tiny patch.
She looked worried and said she wasn't comfortable with the shirt she was wearing because of how clearly visible her nipples were, so I suggested she wear her black zipper cardigan, so she could open it if she felt comfortable later on.
We went to a restaurant for dinner, and as we waited for a table, we sat at the bar. When she climbed up on the stool, her skirt rode up so I could see the tops of her stockings. She quickly adjusted herself as I ordered a couple glasses of wine, and two shots of the best tequila they had. Sheila complained that she didn't like the taste of tequila, but I assured her that this was good stuff, therefore not bitter. She took a sip off the top of the glass, and smiled at the taste. She downed the shot and chased it with her wine.
After we were seated at our table, Sheila kept fretting over how short her skirt was. I ordered more wine and another shot of tequila. This time, Sheila drank the shot without questioning. We ate dinner and shared a bottle of wine. By the time we were done, she had stopped reaching down to readjust her skirt, and had unzipped her cardigan. Now I could see her nipples peeking around the sweater as we talked. She suggested another tequila shot for dessert, so I didn't argue. By the time we left the restaurant, Sheila was pretty numb and wobbly on her high heels.
We then went to our favorite little martini bar. We found a table near the door, and Sheila sat with her back to the door, facing the rest of the bar. She took off her coat, then removed her cardigan. Her beautiful, full breasts and erect nipples were now very visible through the tight stretchy white top. The bar was somewhat dimly lit, so her tits weren't too flashy. The tables were bar height, so the stools were rather tall. Sheila climbed up on her stool, and didn't reach down to adjust herself. I walked to the bar to order our drinks, and when I looked back, could see up Sheila's skirt between her slightly parted knees, where her sparkly panties were winking in the softly flashing bar lights. I sprung an immediate hard-on, and when I turned back to the bar, I could see a young man, perhaps ten years younger than us who had also noticed Sheila's show. I returned with our drinks and sat across from Sheila, but to the side so as not to obstruct the young man's view of my wife's crotch. We sipped our drinks, and after a while I leaned forward and told her what I had observed. I told her how I could see her panties, and I pointed out the young man who had taken notice. She said she too, had noticed the man staring, and had done nothing to dissuade him. I applauded her for her being so accommodating.
She finished her drink and excused herself to the ladies room. I watched as she walked in her ultra hot outfit through the bar as men's eyes followed. I went back to the bar to order two more drinks and the young man who had been staring asked if the lady I was with was my date. I replied that she was my wife, and he complemented me on how gorgeous and sexy she is. I thanked him, and in a moment of weakness asked if he wanted to get to know her. He enthusiastically agreed, and I hatched a scheme. I told him to wait until I dropped a napkin as a signal. Then he was to come to our table, where I would offer for him to sit next to Sheila. Then I instructed him to slowly after some conversation, rest his hand on her thigh. Then he could slowly inch it upward, if she allowed, and we would take it from there. I cautioned him to be careful, because this scheme might not work.
I was seated back at our table when Sheila came back and sat down. She had a huge mischievous grin on her face, and I asked what it was for. "Oh, nothing." she replied flippantly. After about ten minutes, she leaned forward and said "By 'nothing', I meant that's what I'm wearing under my skirt. I went to the bathroom and took off my underwear." If what she said was true, then my new friend at the bar was staring directly at her bare privates. I immediately drained my glass and went to the bar for another because I wanted to see what there was to see. Sure enough, she had removed her panties and was sitting with her legs comfortably wide open. Even in the dim lighting it was evident that her pussy was exposed. I looked at the young man and said "Screw the napkin, just come on over."
He walked back to the table with me and I introduced him to Sheila as Tim, who was visiting on business from out of town. In a joking manner, I said "The lighting in here is funny, Sheila. From the bar it looked to Tim and me like you have no panties on." and chuckled. Tim chuckled too, and rested his hand under the table on her thigh, like I had suggested. She didn't say a word, and we continued to converse. After a while, Sheila's face became red and her voice was raspy and she asked for a glass of water. I went to the bar and looked back. I could see Tim's hand squarely on Sheila's bare crotch, and he was slowly rubbing up and down. As I watched, Sheila leaned toward him and opened her mouth. He met her and they french kissed as I could see him fingering her. I took my time, allowing them to make out before I returned. They stopped kissing, and Sheila's nipples were as hard as rocks. They sat facing me, with Tim's hand rubbing her crotch, and I could tell that her hand was planted on his package.
