My Wife Needs a Real Man Read online

  My Wife Needs A Real Man

  She Wants All Of Them

  Jaime Thorne

  Copyright © 2019 by Jaime Thorne

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever, whether by electronic or mechanical means, without direct written permission from the author except in the case of a brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This book is meant for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and language which may be considered offensive. All sexually active characters in this work are eighteen (18) years of age or older.

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  In a lot of ways my wife and I go against the norm, and that is something that I've always had to take the brunt of jokes and humiliation over. I mean when you're having people constantly point out how much more of a man she is than you are, well that can get trying.

  I get it. I get that I'm smaller and slighter. I get that she's the one who does all of the repairs and fixing around the house while I'm the one who takes care of the cooking and cleaning. I get that I like to spend my time quietly reading while she's the one who is always finding a new project to work on, something that can occupy her hands and her mind and something that she can point to in the end as an accomplishment she undertook and did all on her own.

  She's always been a bit of a gear head, had it in her mind since she was younger that she'd wind up working in a shop repairing things. She was always fixing up cars or motorcycles, and our garage was her ultimate domain.

  Within it she was lord and commander, and she was a dictatorial force.

  Everything had its perfect place in her world. All of her tools and parts placed just so, so when she was looking for something she didn't have to look hard to find it.

  I was a mess by comparison. My little sunroom that I'd taken over as my study in the house was always in disarray. As a literature professor at a local college I had that general air of study and confusion that just played into the stereotypes, and I inadvertently leaned into it in appearance as well.

  Let's just say that I dressed for comfort, and considering my bigger than usual size and my softer than usual body that meant that I was wearing a lot of tweed blazers and looser dress shirts. A lot of woolen sweaters and yes, I'll confess even a sweater vest or two if the occasion called for it.

  I was short and slightly balding, with wire-rimmed glasses and eyes that looked perpetually tired. I had a stoop to my shoulders and fingers that were nimble only when they were turning the pages of a book.

  And while I was by no means enormous I was bigger than I'd like to be, bigger than I knew was healthy for me. I had a small gut and a soft body, weak arms and forearms and legs that didn't have any of the lean and powerful muscle that I knew women normally liked.

  My wife didn't mind though, and who else did I have to impress? I was happily married and so long as she kept calling me her big fuzzy teddy bear I didn't have to focus on getting back into shape. I could just go along with the flow.

  It helped, having her around. I could lie and say that it helped to have her accept me for who I was and that I didn't give a damn what other people thought of me but that was, ultimately, a lie.

  I don't really believe that there is anyone out there who is above the judgment and criticism of others, especially of their peers. I think everyone thinks at least sometimes what others think about them, and adjusts their actions to compensate and present the best version of themselves.

  Or at least the version they think people will like the most.

  I played into the stereotypes because it helped me to get accepted among men who were far older than me. I was young and impetuous and I liked the fact that I was a rising star in my community, and as for physical attractiveness, well my Naomi helped out with that every step of the way.

  So much can be said about the attractiveness of others, that it isn't an objective dichotomy. You can be attractive to one person and unattractive to another, and what makes you attractive or unattractive to each of them is completely subjective.

  I would say to the vast majority of people I would be classed under 'letting himself go.' Jokes on them though because I never had anything to hold onto in the first place, I've always looked like some variation on this version of myself, albeit a bit younger in the preceding years.

  They would say that I had the potential for attractiveness, that they could see it in my face and in my shoulders that if I dropped a few or a lot of pounds and hit the gym for a couple of months to a year I would see great results, and I would be able to become objectively attractive to the average person.

  But the average person did see me as attractive all the same because there is a difference between physical attractiveness and overall attractiveness.

  Physical attractiveness is a subset of the greater value, and it's one that can be reduced to a single instance and assessed with a glance. But overall attractiveness is subject to so much more than that.

  Someone can be attractive because they're charismatic or driven. An unattractive person can become attractive when you watch them throw themselves into work with a passionate need.

  Knowledge can be attractive as well, to the right person. If you know what you're talking about and can say it in the right way it can make people reassess you and reevaluate your attractiveness to them.

  But in my experience, there is one factor that stands above the rest. There is one thing that will I guarantee make people look at you differently. One thing that will make peoples heads turn and make them think that they might have misjudged you.

  That is having an attractive partner.

  If a man has a beautiful woman on his arm people look at him and wonder what she knows that we don't. Some might dismiss it as him having money, but if you know the man and know he's working on a pittance of a professors salary that fades pretty quickly.

  So then you wonder all sorts of other things. You think about sexual prowess and personality. Bit by bit you reevaluate the man that you had dismissed and think to yourself 'If he can get a woman like that he has to have something going for him.'

  That was exactly the case with me.

  Naomi was objectively beautiful, by every single different metric of conventional beauty.

  Tan and exotic looking, tall and lean and smooth-skinned. She had an olive complexion and long flowing hair that seemed to shimmer and shake between chestnut brown and golden blonde. Her lips were full and plump, her eyes big and open and brimming with energy and enthusiasm.

  And her body was a symphony of curves and delights. Her breasts were so full that they seemed to threaten to spill out of every outfit she wore. Her ass perky and pert but thrusting out from her back and demanding attention. Her tiny waist and the flare of her hips. The long legs that were lean and toned.

  Her whole body was toned, corded with muscle from her hard work in the garage and her hard work moving and lugging and maintaining the machines that she had built and stored all over our house.

  She had a keen eye and an even keener int
ellect, quick to pick up on any new topic but lightning fast when it came to the workings of mechanical objects. When she put her hair up and set her mind to something her eyes would narrow with concentration and those nimble fingers would be put to good use disassembling and repairing whatever needed to be fixed.

  Having her on my arm was a testament to my own prowess and capability. It was a signal to my peers and to anyone who saw me with her that I was not only successful in my professional life but in my personal life as well. It was a signal that I was a man who had everything together, even if I was stumbling and trying to keep from spilling my books all over the floor.

  I knew what I saw in her. I loved her mind and her body. Her beauty and her capability. I loved how she took care of me and I took care of her, our tasks and personalities so complementary that nothing ever went unaddressed for long in our household.

  And I loved the fact that we both were easygoing. We didn't argue, honestly we didn't. Having had a bit of an anger problem in my early life I'd made it a point once I realized what I was doing to always take a step back, take a deep breath, and consider the full picture before saying anything rash.

  I find that so helpful, I think anyone would. If you can take a step back and look at things objectively you can often see the other persons perspective. And seeing it from their point of view doesn't always mean agreeing with it, but it means acknowledging that they're not doing it simply to screw you over which is honestly what most peoples initial inclination would be.

  People are inherently good, that is something I truly believe. As a general rule we don't go out of our way to be cruel to each other, though undoubtedly that does happen, and if you come into any disagreement from the perspective that all parties are trying their best it's going to be a lot easier to find common ground.

  My approach usually took most of my exes by surprise. I mean if you're gearing up for a fight like usual and all of a sudden your partner clarifies your position and points out why you might be right that can usually make you take a moment to pause. Putting them off guard, as a side note, also makes them more susceptible to constructive criticism because they don't feel like you're out to get them. They believe that you're seeing them as an equal and trying to identify with them, and that makes anyone feel better.

  Don't get me wrong there are people out there infuriated by this approach, but they're usually in the minority. As a result of having this approach in life, I'm proud to say that most of my relationships ended in mutual agreement rather than fire and explosion. I'm still friends with a lot of them, and that's a very good thing in my mind.

  With Naomi, she was put off guard as well. She has a fiery disposition in general so she tends to come into things a little hot, but when she realized I wasn't responding to that she adjusted and now sees things mostly my way. We haven't had a single fight, and when I asked her about our relationship once a long while ago, pressing her for answers as to why she said yes to marrying me, she told me that I wasn't like any man she'd ever known. She told me that I was a breath of fresh air and being with me felt like the first real relationship she'd ever been in.

  That made a lot of sense.

  Because of her interests, Naomi tends to run in particular circles. She has always wanted to be a mechanic or work with mechanical things, and so she's around a lot of... well a lot of meatheads for lack of a better term.

  Being beautiful she, of course, got attention of a particular sort from them, and the dates she had with them were always so singular in focus that when they got anything close to serious or more than simply physical attraction and exercise they tended to flame out spectacularly.

  She couldn't hold a conversation with any of them outside of talking about engines and cars and the mechanics of their operations. And they didn't respect her enough to take her opinions at face value even when she was obviously right.

  That lack of respect and acknowledgment has shadowed her all her life, and it made her day-to-day existence an absolute hell. A side effect of being as beautiful as she was in the world she worked in was that no one took her seriously. A side effect of me not knowing the first thing about cars and not having any of those judgments was that I trusted her implicitly.

  We met by chance. My car had been shitty for a long time and I finally caved and brought it into a local mechanic. I dropped it off and came back at the appointed time for an update from the big guy who was working on my car and he laid out the facts of my problems and quoted me an inordinate sum to get it fixed and I just nodded glumly, knowing the price was well out of my range and already trying to figure out how much money I could get for the thing and whether it would be a better idea to try to finance a new car or just buy a bike and pedal my way around.

  When I told the mechanic in charge that I'd have to think about the repairs he shrugged and told me that there was a timeline on the repairs. Told me that I probably had a week at most by his count until the whole thing just gave up and stopped turning on, and all of that just made me feel worse.

  But he gave me my keys anyways, cautioning me that he wouldn't be caught riding around in my car and sending me on my way. I was walking out in the parking lot when she caught up to me.

  I noticed Naomi when I walked in, of course I did. She was working reception and she was shockingly gorgeous to the point where I was stumbling over my words even trying to explain the problems with my car. She made me feel like an idiot, like my tongue was thick and heavy in my mouth and as a person who was paid professionally to talk that all just made me feel worse.

  I turned when she called out my name and saw her half-jogging across the parking lot to reach me, her long hair bouncing over her shoulders as she made her way over. Even dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt branded with the name of the mechanic she looked amazing, like an angel or a model gliding over to me.

  “Your receipt,” she said, holding it out to me, “You forgot your receipt.”

  “Oh,” I replied, reaching for it and avoiding telling her that I didn't want it in the first place, “Oh thanks.”

  “I'll walk you to your car,” she said chipper and bright, and I nodded and held my tongue in response as we made our way over there.

  I had no idea what she was doing but Naomi had a plan, and when we reached the door of my car she placed her hand on the roof of it and turned to address me, making sure that her back was to the shop behind her so they couldn't hear what they were saying.

  “So I'm out here to try to change your mind and get you to agree to the repairs,” she started, “Standard procedure blah blah blah. Send the pretty girl out to charm the naive guy into agreeing to anything but it's not going to work on you and I can tell but I need you to pretend I'm giving a real good speech to you and that you're almost agreeing, can you do that?”

  I nodded at her, confusion surely written all over my face which helped to sell that bit.

  “That's perfect,” she said with a big smile that looked only a little false, “Now I'm going to need you to keep that face just like that while I tell you that Jim in there is trying to screw you over. He's told you a hell of a lot of things that are wrong with this car and only like half of them are even real things. Truth be told you don't know how the fuck to keep your car maintained and the problems you're facing aren't nearly as severe as he made them out to be. An oil change and some general maintenance would go a long way towards bringing this car back into full operation. You don't need to replace all the damn parts to fix it you just need to give it a little tender love and care, and you don't need this hack of a shop to take care of any of that for you.”

  I struggled to maintain my face, I was understanding what she was saying and I knew just what was happening. The guys in there had seen a sucker from the moment I walked in and had misread how much money I had to fix these problems. If they'd been a little more reasonable with their gouging I would have agreed to it in a heartbeat and probably signed off on them replacing whatever non-existent part they said was necessary.r />
  “So fuck those guys,” she said, that smile growing a little more genuine, “Am I right? I'm sick of watching while they take advantage of people just because they can and I felt so bad when I saw the look on your face, which is the whole reason I came out here.”

  She stepped forward and I caught a whiff of her scent. She smelled like oil and sweet sweat, not the perfume I would have expected from someone as beautiful and graceful as her.

  “On the back of your receipt is an address,” she said a little lower, making sure we weren't heard, “And a time tonight that you should come by. Bring your car and you can get it fixed and maintained without a problem. All you'll have to pay is any parts at cost, which will be cheaper than anywhere in town will quote you, and a nominal fee for labor. I'm thinking all told probably not more than a couple of hundred bucks at most, maybe even less than that. Does that sound good?”

  I nodded numbly, my suspicion up already and wondering idly whether this was another scam.

  But I felt like I could trust this woman. I felt like there was an honest directness to her that I could count on. And given everything that turned out I was so glad that I did.

  “Good,” she said, taking that half step back, “Now you're going to shake your head and look a little angry. Then you're going to yank open your door and pull out of this lot. I want them to know that you're not coming back. That you're upset and you're not going to take it.”

  I didn't want to disappoint her.

  So I stepped forward with as much fury and put on my angry face. She stepped back as I yanked open my door and slammed it shut. I pulled out and peeled away, and the only thing was slightly lessened by the fact that my car puttered rather than roared as I pulled off onto the street and sped off.

  Once I was home I checked the receipt, flipping it over and confirming all of the details on the back before making up my mind that I was, in fact, going to go and see whatever more reliable and less skeezy mechanic she had recommended.