A New Way of Seeing Things Ch. 23

This story takes place in a fictional world with fictional people. Any similarities to people or things in the world we actually live in is coincidental.

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Tim's support had been requested by a local contractor at the planning board meeting that Tuesday evening. Gwen waited until all the trucks were back and being unloaded that afternoon before she kissed him goodbye and headed off on her own. She had told her husband and herself that she really needed to do some clothes shopping, and that part was true; her loosening morals had made her current attire seem dull and she felt an obligation to Tim to give him what she believed he wanted. Some newer, fresher styles were needed—not too slutty, she cautioned herself, just more in keeping with the times and her expanding comfort level.

What she would not admit, what the Slut on her shoulder did not dare even suggest, was that she craved some excitement. Perhaps if the conditions were right, she might be in a position to give someone a peek of her underwear, or perhaps her bare back. All without them knowing she was doing it, of course; it would have to be a believable accident on her part.

Her destination was not the mall, but a smaller shopping center two towns over; she had no desire to run into anyone she might know, and she wondered if even the distance she had traveled would be enough to prevent that. The long-sleeve shirt that had maintained her modesty in front of the boys back at the shop was discretely removed after she pulled to a stop in the shopping center parking lot; not before a thorough scan of the area for any passerbys, however. Underneath was a tank top she had found in Alison's closet, scandalous in the amount of bare shoulder and arm it showed, even threatening to reveal a bra strap if she were not careful.

Gwen glanced down as she hurried across the scorching pavement towards the cool interior of her target. The top was a little tighter on her than she had hoped, her breasts distinctly defined under the thin material and pushed into a hint of cleavage beneath the low-scooped top. The Lady was adamant her bra would not be up to the task of preventing her nipples from proclaiming her loose morals should she get a sudden chill, while the Slut hoped the Lady was correct. Gwen took solace in the fact that the trickle of sweat running down between her breasts made that unlikely, at least in the short term.

The first blast of refrigerated air hit her in the face as the doors slid open. Gwen managed to keep a measured pace to the first racks of clothing before again looking down. The Lady had been right about the bra. She briefly thought about returning to the truck, at least to retrieve the shirt she had just removed, but instead pressed on in the opposite direction, compromising by keeping her chest pointed away from the other shoppers.

Gwen made a quick pass by the dressing rooms upon reaching women's wear, making note of the fact that waiting area and changing rooms were even more closely situated than Crandall's. That the area was currently without an attendant was not lost on her, either. One less person to put a crimp in her ill-advised plans.

She hurried back into the racks of clothing, intent on quickly choosing items to try on that she might actually buy and wear—she had to go home with something for her efforts. A look of disappointment almost cracked her deceptively-calm demeanor as another pass by the dressing rooms revealed nobody, male or female, waiting for a friend of significant other. You've been parading around this store with your nipples sticking out of this ridiculous shirt, the Lady scolded. Just try on the slutwear you've got in your hand and go home before you get in real trouble! A part of her wanted to take the direction; perhaps just going into one of the stalls and undressing would be enough to satisfy her need for excitement. The Slut finally talked her into making one more trip into the racks to look for a few more items. If there's still no one here when I get back, Gwen decided, then I'll just go in and see how these look. That would probably be for the best, anyways—this is insane!

The trembling woman continued to carefully select items, taking her time. The chill of the air-conditioning had worn off some time ago, but still the bra failed to contain the eraser points beneath it. Finally Gwen could wait no longer and made her way among the racks back to the open area at the rear of the department.

Her breath caught at the sight of the tall, thin, man standing with his back to her in the entranceway to the dressing rooms, looking down the stall-lined hallway. Gwen took stock as she brought her gathered items to her chest as a sort of shield and advanced. Neat black hair, t-shirt, Cargo shorts, sneakers with no socks, wedding band on the ring finger of the left hand which was resting high on the doorframe.

"Umm, excuse me?"

The man turned and looked down at her, a surprised smile on his face. "Oh, sorry, please, excuse me." His eyes surreptitiously scanned her from top to bottom before he moved to the side

Gwen could hear the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor in what seemed to be the last cubicle on the right. Are you crazy? The Lady screamed. You can't go in there! What if this man decides to trap you and have his way with you! There will be no one here to help you!

That's probably his wife back there, the Slut reasoned. I seriously doubt she's going to let him do that. Besides, there's plenty of people in this store just a scream away. Gwen pressed on, selecting the second booth on the left.

With shaking hands she "carelessly" let the left half of the barroom-style swinging door stick in a partially open position, a ten-inch gap between it and its partner while she sorted and hung her potential purchases,. The oversight was not attended to, and Gwen glanced right, into the mirror on the wall. The reflection allowed her to see through the gap, the waiting area partially visible behind the thin man still standing in the entrance to the hallway. She allowed herself a long enough look to see his eyes shifting nervously back and forth between the end of the corridor and her door.

Don't look in the mirror, Gwen chided herself as she decided her next steps. Don't let him know you know. With a deep breath, she turned her back to the reflection and bent to remove her sandals.

The sound of dressing room doors rattling momentarily froze her in place. Not mine, Gwen decided. Further down the hall.

"How's this look, honey?"

A male voice, the man at the entrance, replied. "Uhh, looks nice."

"Keeper?"

"If you like it."

Gwen turned slightly and risked another look in the mirror. The man was still there, his attention drawn to the end of the corridor where his wife was modeling. She quickly averted her eyes as the sound of the door closing came up the hall and the man's eyes began to shift back to her cubicle.

Now what? Did she actually dare to go through with this crazy scheme? It would be so easy to just reach back and pull the door shut, ask him to take a seat, do the proper thing...a nice compromise might be to close the door and strip naked knowing he was just a few feet away.

No. Not enough. The Slut wanted more. Fingers moved to the zipper of her jeans without need for further instruction, slackening the tension on the brass button only slightly before it too was undone. The denim was slowly pushed down and off her hips, dragging panties along for an inch or two until the friction on them was lessened. Gwen felt some consolation in the possibility of reversing the action and stopping her depraved show until she stepped out of one, then the other leg. Now, with underwear, naked thighs and calves on display, in her mind there was no turning back.

She bent to pick up her jeans, taking the time to give her audience a long look, the top of the cleft between her globes visible above where her panties had been dragged down. Gwen finally straightened and gave up what little cover the tank-top offered with a quick pull of it over her head. Another decision point had been reached. She could stop there, clad in her bra and panties, and go about the business of trying her items on, or she could go further. The sound of the man's wife coming back out into the corridor gave her time to consider. Gwen risked another look.

"How about this one?"

The man was still in the same spot, a look of surprise and guilt on his face as he looked past her doorway and down the hallway to where his wife stood.

"Uhh, that one's nice, too."

Do you like this one, or the first one better?"

"Uhh, that one?"

"Alright. Let me try on the others."

The man turned his attention back to the open door as soon as his wife disappeared from view to find Gwen's naked back on display in the reflection. He nervously looked over his shoulder, suddenly aware his voyeurism might not have gone unnoticed by others. The slightly-open door called him back, to where Gwen had turned sideways to reach for the items hanging on the wall hook there. He was rewarded with a view of the side of firm, pert breasts pointed proudly at the clothes as she selected a shirt, turning her back to the mirror only after she had buttoned it. Two more shirts were tried and removed in the same manner before the man's wife stepped out again.

"Too short?"

"Uhh, no, no, I don't think so."

"I think it might be..."

He returned his attention to the cubicle just a few feet away even as Gwen was pushing her modest panties down. The separation of her muscular cheeks was clearly visible, her most secret place almost visible in the dusk between her legs.

Please turn around, the man begged as he held his breath, and he was not disappointed. A beautifully sculpted body of smooth, flowing lines was presented to him, the lips of her shaven sex clearly visible beneath a short tuft of hair. This was too good to be true-she had to be doing this on purpose! The entrancing view was brief as Gwen reached for a skirt—the shortest skirt she had ever considered—and stepped into it. Breasts jiggled and dangled invitingly.

The door down the corridor opened, followed by the sound of the woman walking purposefully up the hallway. "I like this, but it's a little too small. I'm going to go get another size. My purse in there; can you hang out so nobody walks off with it?"

Gwen risked another glance to find that her audience had retreated back into the waiting area, out of sight; another look a moment later found him still by the chairs, but now in a position to resume his watching, albeit from a greater distance. She obliged him with more casual switching of clothes, spending as much time as believable in nothing at all.

"Excuse me?"

Gwen almost shrieked as she reached for something to cover herself up with. The wife had returned and was standing outside her door. She willed herself not to throw up.

"Uhh, yes?"

"Sorry, but your door is a little open. Not sure if you knew or not."

"Oh my goodness," Gwen replied as she quickly snatched it shut. "How embarrassing. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." The woman continued on back to her cubicle.

A surge of adrenaline fueled a frantic scramble to dress, her heart pounding as she zipped her jeans back up and leaned against the wall. The shirt in her truck would come in handy right now, an extra layer to proclaim her modesty upon her exit. She couldn't leave now, not until the man and his wife were gone—it would be too embarrassing to face him! She contented herself with rearranging the items she had tried on, neatly hanging and folding, certain she would not be buying any of these slutty outfits today.

Her breathing and heart rate began to slow only after the woman exited the dressing room without a confrontation. Gwen waited another five minutes before making her own escape, furtively looking left and right, anxious to avoid the couple if they had decided to continue shopping. She surprised herself by willingly tempting disaster and staying long enough to purchase many of the items she had tried on, Gwen's perverted arousal again surging as she presented the decadent garments to the cashier as clear proof that she was slutty enough to wear these!

Adrenaline-fueled giddiness pulsed through her as she pulled out of the parking lot and on to the road home. She had not felt this way since the first time she had gone horse jumping without her parent's knowledge. The same exultation at being a part of something so risky, so dangerous, so forbidden...I'll bet you wouldn't be so happy if that woman had known that you were showing her husband your naked body, the Lady grumped. What if she had taken exception to it? What then?

He didn't have to look, the Slut countered.

Gwen knew there was another feeling this time that the horse jumping had not produced, however. She was almost painfully aware of an intense sexual need that would likely produce a memorable orgasm, and the reliving of this event would produce others. Her hand strayed to her denim-covered crotch more than once, the Lady reminding her of the need for two hands on the wheel each time.

Her headlights swept across the row of vehicles in front of the shop as she made the turn up the driveway. Tim's truck was still absent, but Cliff's was parked at the end of the shop, where it normally sat on workdays. Either he had gone with Tim to the Planning Board meeting, or was still here, working on something...the shop was dark, though. She could just make out three towels hanging over the pool fence like signal flags that some of the boys had been swimming in her absence. Was Cliff still up there? Her heart thudded as she idled the vehicle and checked her phone for a string of text messages that had come in while she was on the way back—no texting and driving for the Nelson family!

taking forever

not sure when Ill be home

dont wait up

love you

No mention as to whether Cliff was with her husband. Gwen bit her lip, then turned off the engine and opened the door. The Lady instructed her to call out in case the pool was still in use and the swimmers not decent; the Slut advised stealth for a greater chance of an accidental encounter. She closed the truck door just enough to turn off the dome light and made her way up the hillock.

To her disappointment, the pool water was still and the hung towels dry, clear signs nobody had been up here for quite a while. Cliff must be with Tim, she decided.

The sexual heat from her dressing room display had not lessened on her drive home, and the brief hope of accidentally catching the muscular black man in a compromising position had made it flare. The right thing to do, of course, would be to wait until her husband got home and satisfy her lust that way, but there was no telling when he would return and whether he would be in the mood to take her when he did. Her toys might be the thing to take the edge off; but what if the men returned in the middle of her debauched activity? Her palm and fingers, under the covers in a darkened room, seemed her safest bet. But maybe a swim first...

It seemed too much trouble to go all the way down to the house and change into a bathing suit. As long as she was quick about it, she could be in and out and back to the house before they came back, and if they did show up early, she would have time to get dressed before they discovered her. Gwen stepped farther up the pool deck to a point where she was sure no one in the yard would be able to see her, disrobed, and dropped into the water with a small splash. While the water was cool enough to refresh after the heat of the day but not chill, it did nothing for the sexual fire that raged. The nude woman swam to the other side, to where she knew the filter jet lay just beneath the surface. I'll still have time to get out and get dressed if anyone comes, Gwen reasoned as her elbows and forearms were positioned on the edge to allow her mons and clitoris to be pounded by the forceful underwater stream. What was the man who had seen her naked doing now, she wondered? Were he and his wife making love, or was he touching himself, images of Gwen fueling his lust? Her mental wanderings switched to an image of him masturbating right there in the dressing room corridor even as her climax began.

Gwen grit her teeth and rode the orgasmic waves as her hips involuntarily twitched against her watery tormentor. The intensity became too much to bear and the semi-coherent woman turned her body enough to take her out of the jet's outflow, the swirling water nearby still creating sensations on her sensitive skin.

Only now did the danger of her morally corrupt actions in the store begin to occupy her thoughts as she climbed the pool stairs on unsteady legs, her lust no longer able to mask the fact that she had again willingly exposed herself to another man. Still, the Lady shook her head in disbelief as Gwen reached for one of the hanging towels and began to dry herself, the idea that the fabric drying her skin may have done the same for a young man's sexual parts just a short time ago.

Gwen gathered the other towels from the fence and made her way down to the house, deciding to dress and come back up for her clothes after she had deposited her current load in the hamper. Task completed, the Slut pushed her to push the envelope a bit further, to forego a change and just go back up to the pool for the things she left. Gwen accepted, but drew the line at doing barn chores in the nude—to be that far from the house if Tim and Cliff were to come back was just plain crazy. In the end, she had been in bed for an hour before the men returned, the sound of one truck pulling into the yard followed shortly after by another leaving muffled by the hum and woosh of the central air.

The Slut pointed out how wise her decision to take care of herself earlier had been after Tim quietly entered the bedroom, undressed, climbed into bed and kissed her, then fell asleep.

Gwen fretted the next two evenings as after-hours emergency calls kept Tim out late, delaying her need to show her husband—and herself—just how much she loved and desired him despite her perverse behavior. Others may get to see her, she subconsciously acknowledged, but only he could have her.

Natalie was right on time the next morning, again wearing a shirt that struggled to contain the breasts beneath it, again removing even that little cover before leaving the barn. Gwen followed suit shortly after.

"You ever ride naked?"

Gwen turned in surprise. "Huh? Out here? Oh, no, I never have."

"Ever think about it?"

"I don't think it would be that comfortable," Gwen replied after regaining her composure. "No matter how broken in the leather is on these western saddles, there's so much, I'd think your thighs and your, uhh, privates, would stick once they got sweaty."

Natalie laughed. "Yeah, I suppose that's true."

"I did an English saddle without any clothes a couple of times." Gwen cursed the fact her words had completely bypassed her modesty filter.

It was Natalie's turn to be surprised. "You did? When?"

Gwen replied slowly, kicking herself for saying anything in the first place. "Well, Miss Ritter made me do that in the indoor riding ring between our apartments. She said it would be a good reminder to keep my bottom off the saddle and in a good riding position."

"Wow! Weren't you scared you'd get caught?"

"I was petrified. I guess she made sure nobody would be around the nights she had me do that."

"And you didn't wear anything?"

"Just my riding boots and a pair of gloves."

"Sorry Gwen, I'm sure it wasn't the most pleasant experience for you, but that sounds incredibly hot."

"I guess it wasn't too bad...at least she let me get dressed to put my horse away."