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man once he walked in through the door.
    Having no idea when he was going to arrive, she had taken it upon herself to make the entire meal for his special dinner in her lingerie.
    Often, she would finger her sweet, hot pussy when she needed a little release, imagining Henry texting her and demanding that he do just that.
    Maybe he would after tonight.
    Earlier in the day, Lillian had randomly walked into the new antiques store in the middle of town, Possessions.
    It was a fun little place, filled with glass cabinets, old wooden furniture that was well out of her price range, marble and glass statues of animals, and some tin signs featuring pin-up girls from the fifties. Lillian had every intention of leaving without buying a thing, but then she ran into the store owner.
    Tall, pale, busty, and devastatingly gorgeous, the store owner oozed sexuality in her practically see-through clingy black dress. She smiled at Lillian with a knowing glance, her green eyes blazing with barely-repressed lust.
    “I see you, young woman,” she said to Lillian. “You are looking for something for your man, yes? You want something to let him know you are his, and his alone?”
    Lillian was a bit stunned. She had not even said hello, and this woman had practically read her mind.
    “Y-yes,” stammered Lillian. “I mean, well, I mean that’s private.”
    The owner tsked, waving her hand. “Private? ‘Private,’ she says to Yasmin. I say to myself, I say, ‘Yasmin, this beautiful girl, she will know Yasmin is beautiful too, and so she will know there is no shame to be had between these walls. Beautiful women, we may talk to each other as we please.’ But I see now, I was wrong. You are not one to speak openly.”
    Yasmin turned then, heading back into the office deep in the back of the store. Her shapely ass swayed in the sheer dark fabric of her dress.
    “No!” Lillian exclaimed. “I mean, I am wanting something like that. What you described. My man...” she didn’t know how she had picked up the beautiful woman’s terminology, but it fit. “He’s not as...aggressive as I might like. In the bedroom. And so...”
    “And so you are in love with him, but not with the way he takes you.” Yasmin tsked again. “This is too bad. A product of too much weakness in these times. Men, where I am from, they take a woman without questions. They have their way upon her. And any man with a wife knows his wife is for beautiful, exhausting, weeks-long periods of hard, passionate fucking for as long as he would like. This is what you would like, yes? For your man to act as such? To act like a real man, hard and terrible and powerful?”
    Lillian was getting hot just listening to Yasmin. Each word she said was like it was weaved from the fabric of sex itself.
    “Oh yes,” she said quietly. “I would like that very much.”
    Yasmin crooked her finger at her then, and showed her to her special stock near the back.
    Lillian didn’t even remember paying, was the odd part. She didn’t remember much of the meeting beyond leaving with the bottle of wine—which was large, dark, and without a label, and the promise that Henry would become, “the hunk he was born to be.”
    That sounded perfect to Lillian.
    Now, though, as she stood in her lingerie, waiting for Henry to come home, doubts began to creep into her mind. Wasn’t she basically poisoning the love of her life? What would this wine even do? Make him more amorous? Increase his longevity in the bedroom? Wouldn’t it be better, perhaps, to just have an open and honest conversation about what she wanted in the bedroom? Why hadn’t she asked Yasmin more questions? Why couldn’t she remember much of the meeting? And why was her mind so spacey when she left, as if she had cum, multiple times, before leaving the shop?
    But then the door opened, dashing all these thoughts away. Her man was home.
    Henry walked inside, wearing his dark black suit and tie, head fixated on his cell phone.
    “Hey