A Wife’s Temptation

I was five months pregnant, but not showing much. Not enough to
start with maternity clothes anyway. The problem was my husband. He
was treating me like a porcelain doll he was afraid he’d break. I
assured him that the doctor had said that sex would be okay as long as
we were careful toward the end, but he was still reluctant. Maybe
pending fatherhood had something to do with it. Who knows what men
are thinking? I had an afternoon off because a construction crew had
cut a gas line near the office where I work, so I decided to go out to
the mall and do some shopping. I though that some sexy lingerie might
arouse Jon’s libido enough to make him forget his fears about damaging

I parked in the new garage next to Lord & Taylor and glanced over
at the new construction. The mall was already huge and was adding
another 153 stores. I wondered what the traffic would be like when
they were all open for business. It was bad enough now, especially
during the holiday season. Thankfully, that was still months away.
On a hot July afternoon most people were at work, or had better things
to do, and the mall was almost empty.

Since I’d come straight from work I was dressed in one of my
conservative suits. (My company requires it’s employees to follow a
strict dress code.) This one was light gray and not as conservative
as some of my suits – the skirt was rather short and showed a good
deal of thigh when I was seated. Outwardly, the rest of my outfit was
equally conservative – white silk blouse, white stockings, black pumps
with a medium heel. Underneath it was different – I was wearing a
sexy little lace bra, matching thong panties, and a garter belt. I
hate pantyhose and rarely wear anything but thigh highs or stockings &
a garterbelt.

I was still thinking about Jon’s attitude as I strolled though the
mall. One of the things that had attracted him to me in the first
place was the fact that, at 21, I had still been a tomboy – tall,
athletic and able to hold my own with his friends whether it was touch
football, running, or drinking. And I hadn’t changed much in three
years. Well, I did get pregnant. But I’m still 5’10”, rangy and
athletic even though my weight is up near 140 pounds. My once-flat
belly is curving out a little, but the rest is pretty much the same –
long slim legs, nice tight butt, and small firm breasts. And that was
another sore point – I thought I’d get to see what it was like to be
big on top, but it hadn’t happened so far. I was still a 35b, the
only change was having my nipples darken from their former light pink
to a deeper, almost plum color.

I cruised in and out of Filene’s and a couple of other places
without seeing anything that caught my eye. I did stop in one
maternity shop but the clothes they had on display made me want to cry
and then call for the fashion police. I was walking past the fountain
in the center court when somebody bumped into me. I heard a low voice
say, “Sorry, excuse me.” I glanced around and saw a young woman smile
apologetically before hurrying on. She was young, possibly a high
school girl but more likely a college student working at the mall for
the summer. At least that’s what I assumed because she was dressed
nicely and I thought I glimpsed a name tag before she turned away.

I continued my lesiurely stroll and eventually wander into a small
shop specializing in lingerie. They survive in the mall by offering a
line of custom-made bras & girdles that are popular with older women
but they also offer a line of very sexy imports from France. I’d only
been in once or twice before because they are very pricy and the help
tends to be very agressive, something I never liked. As I entered one
of the clerks approached and asked if she could help me. She was one
of the ones I didn’t care for – agressive with a superior attitude.
Just as I was about to say, “No, thank you” and leave I caught a
glimpse of the girl who’d bumped into me by the fountain. I smiled at
the woman and said, “No, I believe that the young lady over there is
the one I was speaking with a short while ago.” The woman gave me a
dirty look, but what could she say? And it was true, the girl and I
had spoken a few minutes previously. So what if our conversation had
consisted of “sorry” and “that’s okay”.

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