Wanting
By: Date: 2022.11.05. Categories: Just Wife Stories Tags: , , ,

Joe caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass door, the faint
grey ghost of a figure reaching forward to grasp the brass handle. Joe
grinned and felt a quick self-conscious laugh as the faded vision
reminded him he didn’t look half bad. “I should get a haircut,” he
murmured, pushing the curly mop of hair back from his forehead. “Next
week,” Joe finished, shaking his head, contemplating his schedule. A
tug erased the image and led him back inside the tall office building.

“Call Jenkins,” he thought as he absentmindedly navigated the large
group of workers leaving the elevators. “I’ve got to tell them to stop
work until the new specs arrive.” Joe pushed a button and stared
vacantly into the polished brass, looking vacantly at himself while
thinking of the Morris project. A bell rang and a door opened.
A courier dashed out of the elevator, abruptly past Joe as he took a
step forward.

“Excuse me,” said the courier mechanically, moving on quickly.

“Oh,” said Joe, slightly startled. “I’m sorry,” he called to the long
gone youth. Joe shook his head. “I have to pay more attention,” he
scolded. A young woman stepped into the elevator with him. Joe
pushed his button, smiled weakly and tried to remember if Karl had
already left town.

“Your floor,” the young woman said. Joe looked around, slightly
confused. The elevator door stood wide open.

“Oh,” said Joe, stepping out into the grey carpeted hallway. He
looked left and then right and saw Stacy sitting at the oversized
walnut desk behind the glass doors. “Right,” said Joe, nodding.

Stepping into his office, Joe picked a folder up off his chair and
sat down. “Please look these over,” he read off the small yellow tag
stuck to the manila. Joe sighed and put the file down.

A narrow crystal vase lifted a single rose from the center of his
desk’s blotter. Sunlight glittered through the faceted glass, a
tickling of yellow within blue embracing the living green stem. Joe
smiled with surprise and looked up and around, as though someone
else should be witnessing the moment. The crimson petals of the
bud seemed just a faint breath away from letting their kiss loose in
a rich blossom. Joe touched the lush flower gently, marvelling at
its sudden appearance in the midst of so much unfinished work.

“I wonder,” he said, lifting the rose between two fingers. Joe
noticed a small white card tied to the stem. Cautious of the sharp
thorns that dripped evenly down the length, Joe turned the card and
read the note inscribed. “I want you,” he said with a broad happy
smile. Raising the bud up, Joe took a deep drink of the rich
aromatic fragrance. “I want you,” he repeated.

Joe turned the card over, checking the blank side for some clue.
“Perhaps Margie sent it,” he thought with a chuckle, trying to
imagine some reason why his wife would go to the trouble of having a
single flower with an enigmatic note attached delivered to his
office. Joe supposed it was possible, but shook his head. It just
didn’t sound like Margie. Joe smelled the flower and pondered.

“If it wasn’t Margie,” he said to himself, “then it would have to be
someone else.” The idea tickled Joe and his heart beat a little
faster, trying to imagine someone else wanting him.

“Probably Frank,” he said with a snort. “He wants me to get this
report finished.” Joe put the rose back into the vase and pushed it
toward the back of his desk so that he could open the file.

“Fourteen thousand barrels, delivered . . . ” Joe began to read, but
he looked again at the deep crimson petals. “Somebody brought it in
here while I was at lunch,” Joe said, standing, “and if it was
delivered, Stacy would have seen them come in.”

The dark-haired woman hung up the phone and smiled to herself as Joe
approached. Stacy scribbled an annotation on one of the short grey
lines of an open planner, and Joe noticed, perhaps for the first
time, the soft chocolate of her round cheek’s skin, the sparkle in
Stacy’s dark eyes.

“Stacy,” Joe said. She looked up at him warmly. Joe wondered how he
had failed to see the tight stretch of her blouse over her full, firm
breasts when he came back from lunch. He felt a twinge of pleasure,
watching the coy turn of her head as she responded. “Did I get any
deliveries while I was at lunch?”

“I don’t know,” Stacy said. Joe wondered if the light in her
expression meant anything. “Did you?” she asked, teasing.

“Yes,” Joe said, grinning knowingly. “I just wondered if you knew
who delivered it.”

“I’ve only been on the phones since one,” said Stacy. “Regina was
sitting here, but she’s at lunch now.” The pretty young woman’s
smile seemed intentional. “We can check the log book.”

“Does she want me?” thought Joe, leaning over the desk to follow
Stacy’s finger down the log. His gaze stopped as he noticed the
subtle hint of a nipple under the ribbed yellow fabric stretched over
her heavy breasts. He imagined her smile as she unzipped his
trousers.

“I want you,” he imagined her saying, giggling slightly as she spoke.
She could draw that sweet tongue along the throbbing of his prick.
Joe shuddered.

“There was a courier here at twelve-twenty,” said Stacy. “That could
have been anything.”

“All right,” said Joe. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Stacy. “Anytime.” Joe laughed, recognizing the
constant flirtation in her voice as he walked back toward his office.

“Joe, could you come in here?”

“Sure, Stephanie,” said Joe, almost dancing as he turned back to step
into the young executive’s office. Stephanie sat casually behind her
desk, her dark brown hair lofted elegantly around her exceedingly
pretty face.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked him gaily.

“No,” said Joe, happily. Stephanie rose and walked over to the door
behind Joe. Her lean silk-clad legs shone with each step as her
skirt teased his senses. Stephanie closed the door.

“Morgan’s offered us the deal,” she said, almost jumping in delight.
Joe smiled at the news and the way her breasts bounced as she
shivered. Stephanie put a hand on his shoulder. “They want me to
handle the job!” she exclaimed.

“I want you,” he imagined her saying, eager and commanding.

“It means a great deal of work,” she said, turning back to her desk,
and I may have to go up to Detroit, to get things started, but I
can’t believe this. Can you?”

“No,” said Joe, pleased as he watched her bottom sway as Stephanie
walked away and wondered if she meant to show him so much of her
thigh as she leaned back against her desk. He wondered if she wore
panties under the black wool skirt and if she would say “I want you”
when he pushed his prick between her furry lips. “I don’t believe
it,” he said.

“I need you to look over the Ferguson file before Wednesday’s
meeting.” Stephanie smiled, flirtatiously. “Please,” she said.

“No problem,” Joe said. “Congratulations.” Stephanie took a deep
breath, pressing her chest forward. Joe opened the door and as he
went back to his office, he wondered if she had winked.

Joe picked up the rose and smelled the luscious aroma. “Maybe I
should get a haircut,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to get any
work done here.”

Stacy smiled at Joe, almost wantonly, as he walked past the reception
desk and back to the elevators. “Such a sweet girl,” he thought as
he waited for the “ding”. Joe stepped inside and pushed the lobby
button.

“Hello,” he said to the young woman, grinning invitingly as he spoke.

“Hi,” she replied. Her cheeks dimpled slightly as she smiled.

“Too nice a day to work,” Joe said. The girl teased a lock of her
strawberry tinted hair.

“Yes,” she said. Joe pursed his lips, wondering if she wanted him
too. She would kiss with a melody of garlic and perfume. The
elevator stopped. Joe gallantly allowed the woman to leave before
him and then coveted the smooth sashay of her ass under her cream
pants. Joe stepped into the sunshine, beaming with delight.

Joe went to get his haircut, wondering if Marie wanted him. He
stopped by the florists, and ogled the woman’s matronly figure. Joe
dropped into the grocery and let the cashier flirt as he paid for his
wine.

Pulling into his driveway, Joe looked at himself in the rearview
mirror. He teased the dark wave on the left gently and smiled at his
reflection. Taking ahold of his packages, Joe swung open the door
and stepped out. He kicked the door closed with a foot and went to
the door.

Joe rang the bell.

“Just a minute,” called out Margie. He watched through the window as
she tossed a towel onto the table and pulled off her apron.
Disappearing for a moment, she pulled open the door. “Joe,” she
said, surprised.

“Hey Margie,” he said, offering her the roses in his hand.

“What is this?” she said, her smile gleaming.

“Tell me you want me,” Joe said, putting his arms around his wife.

“I want you,” she said and he kissed her. Her lips moved a breath
away, grinning delightedly. “How did you know?”

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