My Name is Jessica London

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This is a work of fiction involving some themes that make some people uncomfortable. The original story, Jessica in Red is a cuckold story involving a man giving up his wife to a dominant man. This is the companion story from the wife's perspective. If any of this bothers you, you are encouraged to move on.

For those that do read it, I truly hope you enjoy it. It was great fun to write.

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"My name is Jessica London" I said it out loud to Patrick. Legally my name is Jessica Bowers because I am married to Jim Bowers. But my maiden name is London, and Patrick, my husband's boss, and soon to be my lover, wants me to use London.

"Say it again." Patrick says calmly.

"My name is Jessica London." It has been three years since I was last known as Jessica London, having married my college sweetheart and the only man I had ever really dated just six months after the conclusion of my degree. Jim was older by 4 years. He was starting his master's degree when I transferred to State from my local community college. I met him my first week on campus during an orientation session for the College of Business. He asked me out that weekend and thus began my journey to becoming Jessica Bowers.

I was now speaking on the phone with Jim's boss, Patrick Conley, who I had just met last night at a company Halloween party. He walked up to me and said, "You are by far the most beautiful woman here. I am Patrick." I am normally reserved and even stand-offish to men who approach me uninvited, but when I looked up and saw his eyes, I knew he meant the compliment. Patrick is stunningly good looking and obviously did not need to use a cheesy line to approach a woman. But beyond his physique, which was tall, strong, and fit, it was his eyes and his smile that connected with me and disarmed me entirely.

I smiled back. It was almost impossible not to smile back. My heart rate increased; I am sure my face flushed. I felt like a shy schoolgirl meeting her crush. Or at least that was the idea I had heard, not really having any experience with boys when I was a schoolgirl.

"Jessica. Jessica Bowers. Jim Bower's wife." And that is who I was. Somehow after starting University with the intent of changing the world, I ended up as Jim Bower's wife. Jim is a great guy. He is decently good looking, stays mostly in shape, earns a decent income, is handy around the house, and he adores me. You could do much worse. But if you asked me five years ago where I would be in five years, saying that I was a decent man's wife who taught fitness classes at Orangetheory, well that would not have been within my choice set.

I was young and very inexperienced when I met Jim. He seemed so worldly and confident. I came from a small town where the boys were hicks or pigs, often both, and thus, I went through all of high school without ever having a boyfriend. I was a very late bloomer and it wasn't until my 2 years at Community College that I lost my baby fat, as my mama used to say. By that time, I was used to being alone and I didn't dress to impress. So, even though I was approached by multiple modeling agencies, most people, especially the boys, never noticed me.

Jim was different. He was immediately smitten, and it felt good. He didn't have much money as a grad student, so we did fun, inexpensive things. It took him 2 months to finally kiss me, and we first had sex on our one-year anniversary. Jim was an accounting and management major and fit all of those stereotypes. He was cautious and thorough. He preferred calculated to spontaneous. He had a romantic side and we settled into a solid sex life, but it was rarely adventurous, and often I was the one who lead the way.

Jim finished his masters and he got a nice job at a relatively large company. We got married. I had just started a marketing job when he got moved the first time. Soon it became two moves in 24 months, and my ability to launch my young career was starting to fade. We arrived in our current town and since I figured it would be another short gig for Jim, I got the job at Orangetheory. I figured there was a franchise in each location we were likely to go, I loved the program having joined as a member two locations ago, and it kept me from going insane being at home. I had long ago lost my baby fat and was now fit and strong and if I listened to Jim and my few friends, I was gorgeous. After 19 years of being somewhere between homely and ugly, it was hard for me to buy into that assessment.

Jim got a new boss about six months ago and his long hours became longer. His boss had him working on customer accounts versus the pure admin work he had done, and Jim seemed to really enjoy it and was in awe of his boss. Working Saturday's became a thing. Working late became a thing. If his boss asked, Jim said yes. But Jim was also making more money and we just recently started house shopping as his boss indicated he didn't see a move in the future and his quarterly bonuses had tripled.

Last night was the company Halloween party and Jim and I had decided to splurge and go to one of those fancy costume shops. He hadn't found anything he liked and instead went as he had the previous year, as Jake from State Farm. It had a certain comic charm. He had found an old State Farm polo at a thrift store and already owned numerous pairs of khakis, plus it allowed him to be his cautious and predictable self. I on the other hand, found a sexy devil's costume that had a red bustier and horns for my head. I wore it with black leggings, of which I owned many of, being a fitness instructor and all. Jim was ecstatic as he thought I looked sexy and he was excited about showing off his wife at the party.

As conservative as Jim was, he had one trait that was seemingly misplaced; he seemed to like it when men flirted with me. This had only recently started to happen in my life, and he always seemed to be the one who recognized it first, but instead of getting mad, it seemed to please him. "I have a hot wife!" he would say, which was probably not something he had ever envisioned for himself being a self-described nerd.

I was just starting to understand that I was attractive, even borderline hot. Even after I lost weight and toned my body, I luckily kept my breasts. They weren't huge, but as B, almost C cups, their contrast to my trim and toned torso did make me look good. In addition, Jim, and a few men at the studio, have tried to convince me that I also have a great ass, but I am still skeptical given "fat ass" was my most common nickname in high school. But supposedly it is my face that attracted the modeling agents. I have big, expressive eyes and after the extra pounds were shed, a model's angular face emerged. Jim jokingly told me that depending on what angle he looks at me, I am either the perfect girl next store, or a high culture super model.

When I put the costume on that day, I did look good. My breasts were pushed up and in and the bustier left my toned and flat stomach exposed. I wore a pair of leggings that were cut for style and highlighted my fit legs, my supposed nice ass, and what I have found out is known as my thigh gap. Jim was like a kid in a candy store, but I found myself a bit unsettled as I couldn't decide if he was happy about how I looked, or happy about how I made him look. My best friend at the studio, and one of my only real friends, kept asking me when I was going to realize that Jim had married way up and that perhaps I should expect more. Little did I know, that journey was about to start.

Since we had moved twice after short stints in his first two roles, I really didn't know anyone at his office. We had gone to the Labor Day picnic, but I had asked him if we could leave early as I felt like we were the unwelcome outsiders. His new boss had just started then, but I had not met him at that event.

We were about an hour into the Halloween party and I was having an OK time. I was getting lots of looks from the men at the party, which seemed to please Jim. He told me I should enjoy the attention. In the past, when I asked him if it made him jealous or mad, he told me it didn't. "They can look and lust, but I get to take you home. So why be upset. I take it as a compliment." The party was getting very busy and Jim said he was going to go to the bar to grab me a drink. Jim doesn't believe in drinking at a company event, but he was always ok with me having a moderate amount. He disappeared into the crowd in the direction of the main bar.

I had been standing there for perhaps 3 minutes when Patrick made his entry. His amazing good looks, his sexy voice, and his eyes took a hold of me hard. When I introduced myself as Jim Bower's wife, he made no mention of being Jim's boss.

He asked what made me tick, besides being devilishly good looking. The pun was terrible but we both laughed. And I found myself pleased that someone asked me not about what I did for money, but what I did for me. I told him my current situation at Orangetheory and how while it started as a convenient way to make money, it has become a fulfilling pursuit, and I finished it with "and it keeps me from going insane when Jim's boss ruins another weekend with a Saturday work request."

The man in front of me smiled, and said, "Let me fully introduce myself, Patrick Conley, Jim's weekend ruining boss!"

I was mortified. I turned bright red and started to apologize. He smiled, reached out his hand and placed it on the bare skin above my right hip, and then leaned in and said, "if you get any redder I won't be able to tell where the costume end and you start. It's OK, Jessica, I have been called much worse."

He stayed close and smiled at me. The fact that he used my name in a genuine way made me somewhat relax. I let out a deep breathe. "You're not mad?" He told me not at all. It is then that I realized he still had his hand on me. It felt odd, but also amazing. I didn't know how to react. He seemed to read that and leaned in again and said, "Luckily red is my favorite color and now you look even more alluring!" He leaned back a bit and smiled at me. His smile once again disarmed me, and I was able to genuinely laugh at the situation.

From there our interaction became a blur. We casually and confidently talked, flirted actually, and the whole time he left his hand on my skin. I remember talking about life, and hopes and dreams, but if there had been a content quiz at the end, I would have failed miserably.

But, what I did know, was the interaction felt good, it felt reassuring, it even felt arousing. Luckily, I was already red, otherwise the heat I was feeling and the red it was creating would have been fully noticeable. Patrick made me feel like I was the only person in the crowded bar. I should have been on the look out for Jim, but he never entered my mind. Patrick was just that compelling.

Finally, he slid his hand across my lower back. My skin came alive and I practically moaned, and then he turned me around. Standing there was Jim. He was frozen in place holding a drink for me. To say the situation was awkward was an understatement. But once again, Patrick saved the day, "Ah, your drink has arrived." It took Jim a moment, but he handed me the drink. It was then that I noticed Jim had a fairly noticeable tent in his khakis. I caught a look on Patrick's face that indicated that he noticed it too.

Patrick called out Jim, "I am sorry I was monopolizing your wife, but it seems like you were content to wait and watch." I realized at that time that Jim must have been watching Patrick and I converse and that it had obviously aroused him. I also realized Patrick's hand was still on me. It was surreal that Jim just stood there as his boss was so blatant. It should have shocked me, but given how he had reacted to other guys hitting on me and knowing that I had just had an almost magical interaction with Patrick, I didn't really care. I didn't want his touch to end, even if my husband was watching. The awkwardness escalated momentarily and then Patrick jumped in like nothing odd had occurred.

"I came over here looking for you in order to share some bad news, I am definitely going to need you to be in the office tomorrow, some things need attention." As he said this, he glanced at me and his eyes twinkled. That wasn't the reason, but he was having a bit of fun at Jim's expense. He was bringing my embarrassing comment around full circle and was letting me know it. He was also showing me that he was in charge. It made me even more attracted to him.

But the reality was, Jim and I had planned to go driving around to look at houses tomorrow, so I fully expected him to say no, but instead he said, "Yes sir, I would be glad to do that."

I was stunned. My husband didn't even try to push back. I had never fully realized this before that moment, but my husband was a weak man. Patrick wrapped up the conversation by telling him to be in the office at 7:30 am. I watched as he directed my husband, and Jim did nothing but obey. Patrick kept a casual, but commanding tone and demeanor as he did this, but then his tone got lighter, and back to flirty as he said, "You, my little devil, look amazing in that costume and it was a complete pleasure getting to know you. I look forward to seeing you at our next event. I will suggest you wear red again, it suits you beautifully."

His eyes once again told me that the compliment and the sentiment were genuine. I blushed, and this time there was no mistaking it. As he finished with this comment, he let his hand slide off my back and it brushed across my ass. I once again almost moaned. It was totally wrong and felt totally right.

I realized it had been done in full view of Jim and thus I quickly tried to shift the focus and replied to his comment, "well, you're the boss, so I will see what I can do." Patrick's smile seemed to indicate that he caught my reference to my husband's capitulation to his Saturday work request and replied, "Yes I am." He then nodded at Jim and turned to me and winked. It was obvious that he had just enjoyed flirting with me and demonstrating his power over my husband, and the reality was I enjoyed both too. I smiled genuinely at Patrick. I made no attempt to disguise it. If Jim thought it somehow arousing that his boss was flirting with me, then why should I feel bad?

Jim and I remained in silence for a bit as we watched Patrick depart. Finally, I suggested we just go home as he would have to get up early. We drove in silence. I couldn't decide if I was mad or disappointed with my husband. The only thing I felt for sure was aroused, and I was pretty sure that was not coming from my husband. In the 10 or so minutes I interacted with Patrick he had made me feel more like a desired woman then Jim had in the past three years. It made little sense, but it was how I felt.

When we got home, I didn't pout or yell, I simply dragged my submissive husband into the bedroom and basically attacked him. He had to know that I was really fucking Patrick, but he didn't seem to care, and we went at it like it had been months since our last time. I came close to screaming Patrick's name when, for the first time in a long while, Jim made me cum. It was typically short session, but it was potentially the best sex we ever had.

I didn't overthink it; I just enjoyed it and soon fell asleep somewhat content. Curious, unsettled, but somehow content. Patrick was responsible for all of that.

I awoke as I heard Jim depart at just before 7am. He was dutifully going into work because his boss told him to. My mind quickly focused on Patrick. He was intoxicating in my memory and the arousal returned. I laid in bed and by 7:15 I had my second orgasm that Patrick was responsible for. It was my husband last night and my fingers this morning, but in reality, both orgasms were the direct result of my focus on the sexiest, strongest, most charming man I had ever met. They say your brain is your most sensitive sex organ, and my brain had been deeply imprinted by Patrick.

I relaxed and let my Patrick obsession swirl in my head a bit longer. I like that. Finally I got up and showered and made coffee. I had not taken a shift at work today because I assumed Jim was not going to be working, so I had nothing to do.

I laughed when I spied my devil's top that I had aggressively pulled off and thrown on the floor trying to get Jim to fuck me hard. As usual, his approach was more characterized by the phrase "making love," even though all I wanted last night was to be taken like a desirable woman. I couldn't shake the feeling that Patrick would have understood the difference and the experience would have been different.

I was sitting in the kitchen contemplating that when the doorbell rang. It was a delivery. A very nice young man dropped off a box. It had a pull tab and when I pulled it undid the entire top and I realized it was a box of red roses. There had to be 60 roses all packed tightly. There was a card. My hand trembled as I reached for it. It should be from my husband, his peace offering for a weird end to our evening, but I already knew it wasn't from him.

"Thank you for a wonderful conversation. Patrick" Under that was listed his phone number. My heart raced and I kept looking at this massive box of flowers and then at the card. I shouldn't, but I knew I would. He knew I would. I picked up my phone. I put it down. It seemed like I was lost in these thoughts for hours, but five minutes later I hit send. It took two tries as my hand was shaking so badly.

The flowers are beautiful. Thank you for making me feel special

I put my phone back down like it was a hot potato. I looked again at the flowers. I smiled. My phone buzzed. I almost dropped it trying to rush to see the message.

You are special, that was clear upon meeting you

He was good. We were right back to flirting. In my rational mind I knew I should not start typing back to my husband's boss. So, I just sat there and looked at the phone. "Step away from the phone Jessica. No good can come of this," I screamed in my head. Another text arrived from Patrick.

I told you red suits you, so I couldn't resist. I hope they are as pretty as the nice lady on the phone said they were when she sold me on them! :)

I was about to reply. I was going to take a nice photo of the flowers and send it. But then, in keeping with last night's theme of being devilish, I went into my room and took a moment to put on a bit of make-up and to spruce up my hair. It was impossible to get the entire box and me in the frame, but after a dozen tries, I had the photo. I was smiling, but if I were honest with myself, it was a smile you might normally reserve for a romantic interest. I was standing behind the flowers, and looking somewhere between that girls next door and the super model. Throw in the fact that although you could only see the very top of my chest and shoulders behind the box, I was standing only in a bra and some pajama bottoms.

I typed a message. I deleted it. I typed another. I deleted it. Finally, I looked at what I had typed, and hit send. I said, "This is crazy" out loud as I did.

I can't argue, red does look good on me. The photo was attached. It almost looked like I was wearing the roses. I know, cheesy. I was hoping Patrick would conclude, "playful," but either way, the message and the photo had already arrived. I had just upped the flirt level to defcon 4.

I was being a terrible wife. My husband was in the office on a Saturday working at his boss's request, and I was text flirting with that very same boss. I was about to come to conclusion that this needed to stop when my phone buzzed.