Physical (3 page)

Yes, I know all women like sex and the
occasional late-night drunken kinkiness, but for me, every
wandering thought and every inch of my body is saturated with
sexual perversion and naughty urges. When I’m at a restaurant, I
always check out the waiter. When I get pulled over by a cop, I
casually insinuate a sexual favor to get my way out of a ticket.
When I’m at the gym, I get hands-on personal training from the most
attractive trainer. When I’m at a bar, I always eye other men while
talking to a man. When I go to the grocery store, I linger next to
random good-looking guys until our hands veer towards the same item
on the shelf. I just can’t help it. Most women will let it happen
in the right circumstances but I make it happen all the time with
the most devious words and the most cunning tricks.

Plus, I not only have an extremely vivid
imagination, but I grew up in a strict household in which my father
forbade me from dating until I left for college. All those pent-up
years of adolescent frustration from not being allowed to touch
what I wanted to touch seems to have resulted in endless sexual
sparks firing away inside my imagination, from the day I left home
to this very minute.

So, of course, the men who I ended up dating
were always the men who I ended up going home with after a drunken
night of innuendos and kinky flirtation because, in my mind, the
most attractive men were the ones who conjured up images of doing
what I felt I was forbidden to do. Even when I’d start to seriously
date a man and begin to fall for him, I could never fully
extinguish my wandering eye or my desire to explore feelings that
were, in some way, forbidden or taboo. When the sex life of my
relationship became dull and routine, I simply began to lose
interest in the man and would naturally find myself flirting with
men with whom I had no right to be flirting.

I knew that acting like a kinky college girl
was only going to last so long, even as I stretched that special
phase well into my twenties and beyond. When I lost my job as a
director of marketing at the beginning of what would quickly become
the great American recession, the reality of my situation soon hit
me. After a number of short-term freelance jobs and a freeze on
hiring at practically every single company I applied to, the stark
truth of trying to make it on my own no longer seemed like it was
worth the price I had to pay. No longer was I able to tell myself
that I was simply going to be the carefree career woman who would
always have her job as an excuse for why she was not yet married. I
suddenly realized that I did not want to struggle alone to make it.
I no longer wanted to be the lone woman who would not settle for
anything but the perfect man.

So on New Year’s Eve I made my resolution.
This year, I told myself, I would get married and have a family. I
would leave the kinky thoughts in my head and focus on what matters
in life. I hoped that I could find a man who would satisfy me both
as a husband and as a sex partner for my endless appetite, but I
was firmly committed to finding the man who I would love and live
with for the rest of my life.

After making official visits to the hair
salon, the manicurist, the waxing spa and numerous department
stores to formally prep myself for the women-looking-for-marriage
market, I sat down in front of my computer and began my search. I
sent out emails to friends notifying them of my new quest,
registered on every relationship website and started browsing
social media profiles of every attractive man I could click on.
Immediately my phone started to ring with calls from my friends,
each of them telling me that they had the perfect guy for me and
wanting to know when they could set me up on a blind date. I
surrendered to all of their propositions, and so began the
quest.

Yet, three months into it and dozens of
awkward hellos and goodbyes later, I had hardly met a man I wanted
to see for a second time much less every morning for the rest of my
days on earth. I knew my search was going to be difficult but it
was becoming painfully obvious how impossible it really was to find
love when you are looking for it. So, with my bank account quickly
depleting, I decided it might be best to just return to the
trenches of the job hunt and put the search for love on the
backburner of time.

The next morning, with my laptop under my
arm and my new resume complete, I headed to my favorite downtown
French café to spend the day drinking double espresso shots and
browsing job listings. I hunkered down at a corner table by the
edge of the window and began my new struggle to return to my role
as the world’s most single career woman.

And then, of course, when I least expected
it, it happened.

“
Searching for a
job?”

I looked up and turned my head around to
where the voice had come from. He was sitting behind me at another
table and was obviously peering over my shoulder to look at what I
was doing on my laptop.

“
Aren’t we a little nosy?”
I immediately responded. “Are you trying to invade my privacy?” I
added sarcastically with a devious smirk.

“
Oh, no, I’m sorry,” he
said defensively. “I just glanced at your computer screen. I didn’t
mean to pry. I apologize.”

His utter politeness and
old-fashioned gentleman demeanor suddenly intrigued me, considering
he was the one who had boldly begun the conversation by
eavesdropping on me. I turned again to take another look at him. He
was dressed in a very conservative charcoal grey business suit and
seemed to be a good decade older than me. He had clean-cut dark
brown hair and serious dark blue eyes. He was stirring his coffee
and glancing at the copy of
The Wall
Street Journal
that he held in his other
hand as he waited for my response.

“
Yes, I am looking for a
job. Are you hiring?”

He set the paper down on the table and
smiled at me. When our eyes met, there was definitely something
there but I just didn’t know what it was. My first impression was
that he was a bit domineering but this was mixed with an attraction
to his almost formal reaction to me.

“
Well, yes and no. I am
hiring but it probably isn’t for the job you are seeking. What kind
of work are you looking for?”

“
I’ve worked in marketing
for nearly 10 years, but I got laid off a number of months ago,” I
explained to him.

“
Oh, I see,” he said while
he seemed to ponder what I told him. “So you have a serious career
path you are already firmly set on?”

“
Well, yes…I mean I have a
master’s degree and have been doing it for many years, but I am
open to other offers.”

Our eyes darted back and forth toward each
other and then away again. We seemed to both be testing the waters
of what exactly this conversation was about.

“
What kind of work are you
hiring for?” I asked him.

He clasped his hands together and leaned
back trying to figure out what he was going to say next. I quickly
became intrigued by the strange flow of the conversation and was
wondering where exactly it was headed.

“
Well, I work in the
defense industry but the position is more of a personal
nature.”

“
Personal? Like a personal
assistant?” I asked him.

“
Well…not exactly,” he
said, trying to find the right words to explain to me what he was
seeking. He finally just leaned forward and said it. “I’m not going
to lie to you. I’m looking for the perfect housewife.”

“
A housewife?” I said,
completely confused by his remark. “You are seeking to hire a
housewife?”

He smiled at my reaction. “No, I mean, not
technically. It’s difficult to explain,” he said with an
emotionally strained look on his face.

Now I was starting to wonder if this man was
not completely crazy and if I shouldn’t just cut the conversation
short to return to my job search. Yet, there was something about
the expression on his face that told me he was being sincere and so
I figured I would listen to what he had to say.

“
How is it difficult to
explain?”

He cast his eyes down and then looked around
to see if anyone else was listening to our conversation. He moved a
bit closer toward me and lowered his voice.

“
I’m sorry but I’m not
very good at this. You see, my wife passed away a few years ago.
She was working with me on a defense contract in Iraq and we were
attacked by insurgents while we were travelling in a
convoy.”

“
Oh, I’m sorry,” I told
him. It was the last thing that I expected him to tell me but it
was beginning to explain his strange approach to me.

“
I haven’t dated anyone
since then and I’m really not sure if I am ready to
again.”

“
No, of course, I
understand,” I told him warmly. “Maybe you just need a little more
time.”

“
Maybe,” he said, “but
enough time has passed already and I’m ready to meet someone else.
There are just certain things I am looking for in a woman this
time.”

“
Like being a housewife?”
I jokingly asked him just to lighten up the tone of the
conversation.

He laughed. “Well, yes. You see, not only
would I not want my wife in any kind of danger again but I have
three teenage sons at home who need a woman to look after
them.”

This conversation was growing more and more
interesting by the second, I thought. It was certainly the last
thing that I expected to happen on my first day on a search for a
new job.

“
That must be tough. I
mean, trying to raise three boys on your own.”

He rolled his eyes. “You can’t imagine. Boys
will be boys but they are practically grown men now. I travel a lot
so I really only know about the mischief that they are up to when I
get a call from a neighbor. I tried to hire a nanny but it just
didn’t work out. They need a woman who is always there for them and
keeps them under control.”

“
I see,” I told him while
thinking about his situation. “So that’s why you are looking
to
hire
a
housewife?”

“
Well, like I said, yes
and no. I’d like to meet the right woman for a relationship, but
you can’t imagine how difficult it is to just go out and meet the
right person.”

I couldn’t help but smile when he told me
that. I began to seriously think about his circumstances while we
chatted a bit more about other things. I studied him while he
talked and there was no denying that there was something about him
that was very attractive. He was older than me, yes, but not too
old that we could not talk about the same things. He was
fantastically in-shape with broad muscular shoulders, sturdy tanned
forearms and skin that only told its age from the few wrinkles that
formed at the edge of his eyes when he smiled. He had that
distinctive healthy-executive look that comes from having the
resources to take care of oneself in the finest of ways. Yet, it
was something else that was making me feel attracted to him that
had nothing to do with his physical appearance. I couldn’t really
place my finger on it at the moment but there was something about
him that told me he was different than most men and that he had
urges and desires that went to places inside him where other men
preferred not to go. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but there
was something in his eyes that clued me into his openness to a
world of kink.

The one thing holding me back, though, was
that he already had a full family of three grown sons. I had always
wanted a family but I had assumed I would be the mother to children
I gave birth to and not some kind of step-wife nanny to boys on the
edge of manhood themselves. But at the same time, the thought of
being asked to put three teenage boys under control instigated
those secret thoughts in me that sent my imagination reeling. I
wasn’t really picturing anything specifically as much as giving in
to that feeling of wanting to once again explore things that seemed
to be utterly forbidden.

So after a few more minutes of chatting, I
just decided to go for it.

“
Well, if you are
seriously looking to hire a housewife, I would love to be
interviewed for the position,” I told him.

He looked up at me a bit startled and smiled
at my playfulness. “That’s great to hear,” he said. “Let me look at
my calendar and see when I have time available for your
interview.”

He took his phone out of his pocket and
thumbed through the screens for a few seconds.

“
How’s tomorrow at
five?”

“
Five works fine for me.
Is there anything special I need to bring?”

We were both starting to really enjoy
pretending we were seriously discussing the hired housewife
situation and at the same time being slyly flirtatious.

“
Yes, bring a copy of your
resume and dress well. If you pass the first interview, I might
take you out to dinner.”

“
Might?” I said
teasingly.

“
We’ll see how things go.
I’m a very tough interviewer. I’ve had to interrogate my fair share
of detainees who refused to tell me what I wanted to
hear.”

Now I was really turned on. “Oh, I see,” I
responded in laughter. “Well, I’ll make sure to come with all my
answers ready for you.” I gathered my belongings and stood up to
tell him bye. He wrote his address and phone number down on a
corner of the newspaper, tore it off with a motion of swift force
and handed it to me.

“
You didn’t even tell me
your name,” I told him.