Changing Anna: 1
What have I done?
Prologue
What am I going to do now? The whole thing has gotten out of hand and now Anna has presented me with a choice I never expected I’d have to make. All because I couldn’t be satisfied with how my attractive wife acted around strange men.
I had to turn away from her to hide my feelings. So much has happened, so much since that damned night we went out to explore the waterfront. I remember how happy I’d been when he began hitting on her. On my wife, an innocent who’d never been subjected to this type of approbation, especially from such a slick character. And she responded. Flirting back. Arching her neck and touching her hair as she made puppy dog eyes at a suave stranger.
And I had encouraged her do it.
I breathed out, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. This was what I’d wanted. My young spouse being toyed with by a stranger in a bar…while she ignored me.
I could never imagine it’d come to this; a decision that could determine the fate of our marriage.
Changing Anna
What was the harm in flirting, I’d always wondered? We’d tried a little when we’d first met, but Anna soon made it apparent she didn’t want to. I think it embarrassed her, or she just didn’t know how. Then again she probably couldn’t conceive of playing that type of game. It stemmed from a perception, or actually lack of it, of the intent of the male sex. Ever since I’d met Anna I’d wondered how she could be so unaware of her effect on men; that she’d never thought to use it to her advantage.
You see, Anna is beautiful. No, more than that. Drop dead gorgeous. And she possesses a natural allure that turns heads. And me? I love the looks she gets when she dresses up in a miniskirt and uses a wide headband to hold back her waist-length black hair. Then there are the high cheek-bones she’d inherited from some distant Cherokee ancestor. It gives Anna the face of an angel. Add to that a five foot three frame which carries only a little over a hundred pounds. But she’s really built, being blessed with oversized tear-drop shaped breasts that hang perfectly on her petite frame. They’re topped with puffy nipples that stand out prominently when she’s aroused. But I thought her best feature, by far, was her perfect ass.
I think she’s always been unaware of her looks; completely oblivious to guys checking her out. She certainly was when we’d met during our first year of college. That didn’t detract me, I was in love from the first moment I saw her. Thankfully, after we began dating, she became similarly smitten.
And even though we were so different — she‘d gown up in an urban environment while I was a small town southern boy — we’d resonated well enough after we’d met working on Jimmy Carter’s presidential campaign. We were dissimilar in temperament too. Anna was an artist; focused on that to the exclusion of anything else, while I loved the variety that came from interacting with many types of people. Even though my looks weren’t much — I’m tall and gangly — I found I could strike up a conversation with just about anyone. Not her. She was shy to the point of reticence.
Though we were an unlikely couple we remained devoted to each other all during our four year courtship. Then we tied the knot upon graduation to make it permanent.
Both of us had come from families who thought sex should be saved until after marriage and, innocents that we were, we’d also bought into that. We were excited when we finally did screw, but it exposed our naïveté. It turned out sex was gratifying but not very satisfying. I tended to orgasm too quickly and Anna didn’t at all, even though she got really turned on. She told me she didn’t mind, that just feeling me on top of her while we did it was more than enough. But I knew she could. I’d heard her in the middle of the night working the tip of her pillow against her clit. That’s what had always done it for her. Still, it bugged me knowing that even though we’d been married a whole year she still wasn’t able to come during intercourse. But Anna kept assuring me it was fine, so eventually I let my concerns go.
One thing I was loth to accept was her shyness in social situations. That was so different from the way she acted at home. I wanted Anna to be more confident and aware. I’d parlayed my natural gregariousness into a public relations career, but when Anna wasn’t trying to establish her place in the local arts community she worked in a co-op art gallery, and being so shy wasn’t a help in that type of environment. But every time I told her she was a beautiful sexy woman, that she should use that to help sell her paintings, she’d just blush and say she wouldn’t know how to act. Despite dressing in a little more revealing manner at my urging, she still wasn’t confident around potential customers.
An opportunity for me to coax her into situations where she’d have to act more self-assured came when we moved to Florida. After we settled into our new home my job took me away for a almost a month. Before I left I asked her to do something she never wanted to do and, now married, would never consider. I wanted her to flirt with men when she was out and about.
I wasn’t trying to be devious when I made my pitch, I just wanted a sexy woman on my arm when we went out. Make eye contact Anna, I had explained. Leave an additional button or two undone on your blouse when you leave the house, I’d urged. When she balked, in desperation I pleaded for her to just make herself talk to strangers. Bat your eyes and tease them with your smile, I’d cajoled.
Still she refused, saying it just wasn’t in her to do that. Then I explained it would actually force her into to being more gregarious, and that practicing something like that would spill over into interactions with potential patrons and when she was at the art gallery. That did it. She finally saw that it could really help her. When she told me she would try I was ecstatic.
I returned home to find a much-changed spouse. To say it worked would be an understatement. After she described the ways she’d learned to act it became clear Anna had taken to flirting like a duck takes to water. Embracing it had changed her. In that short span of time she had gone from an ingénue to a woman confident in her own skin. She still didn’t act overtly sensual, but she was way more self-assured.
I didn’t see the full extent of this personality shift until we vacationed in the historic section of Savanna, Georgia.
It happened on our first night when we decided to explore the shops along the rehabbed waterfront. I used the opportunity to bring up her flirtatious excursions during my absence and expressed my desire to see her in action. I convinced her to wear a mini-skirt, one that hugged her ass and highlighted her tanned legs. She even agreed to go braless, even though I’d selected a slightly risqué silk blouse that had the potential to show a lot of cleavage, its clingy nature really emphasizing her amazing breasts. Then I dared her to go pantyless, taunting her, saying a real tease would. After laughing and sticking her tongue out at me she’d agreed, telling me in a self-satisfied tone she’d make sure no one ever knew.
She arranged her long hair into a french twist, held in place with an antique silver barrette. Removing her wedding ring to give the impression she was single completed her outfit. This was what I wanted. She’d achieved a look both sensual and alluring. It also made my innocent little wife as hot as hell!
With all that done we were ready to start our adventure.
The old buildings facing the harbor had been transformed into a vibrant arts and culture district frequented by tourists and professionals alike. True to form, Anna got a lot of glances from men, and a few women, as we meandered through shops and interacted with street vendors. The evening was going just as I had planned. And I could see she enjoyed flirting with every male we met. As an added bonus she’d often tease me about how hot some of the guys were. My Anna had truly come out of her shell. I didn’t think our outing could get any better.
But it did. When we passed a lively bar adjacent to a grand hotel I had an idea I thought would truly test Anna’s new flirting skills. I asked my wife to wait outside for a minute, telling her I wanted to scope it out to see if it was a place we’d want to visit. As I studied the room’s narrow interior I felt a growing sense of excitement. I’d been fun seeing Anna casually flirting with random guys, but I wanted more. If she agreed, I thought the bar’s layout would allow me to see her in the ultimate flirt situation; someone attempting to pick her up.
The place offered a good opportunity for that to happen. It was a narrow room with a long old-fashioned bar spanning its depth, but with a quirk; for some reason a pass-through had been cut into the bar’s far end leaving three additional seats beyond it. Right now they were empty, probably because they were so far away from the action taking place among the mixed group of people congregating at the main section of the bar. If we sat there we would have some privacy. Finally, there was a long mirror that extended the length of the entire room. Unlike some bars I’d been in, this one wasn’t dimly lit and smoky. Looking in the mirror I could make out a surprising amount of detail amongst the patrons sitting there. It was a perfect spot, I thought, to watch anonymously as Anna was being hit on by some young hunk out for a good time. The exciting part for me would be seeing how she reacted to him, to see her take her flirting skills up a notch as she strung him along.
When I returned to Anna I suggested we play a game. I explained it revolved around someone trying to pick her up. I’d spy on them as he attempted to entice her into his bed, then observe how she reacted.
When she hesitated I tried to cajole her by saying, “Do it, Anna. It’ll just be some harmless fun. When he tries to get intimate you can shut him down.”
She didn’t like my idea at all, folding her arms and looking at me in that way she had when I’d suggested she do something stupid.
I didn’t give up. “Look,” I said, “he’s probably going to be looking for some action. You’re hot and alone. He thinks he can score. You can enjoy yourself, string him along while he tries. It’s not going to hurt his feelings when you decide to end it. I’m sure that happens a lot. It really will be just harmless fun. I think both of you will enjoy it. But for me it’d be so cool seeing how you handle the situation, and it’d allow you to get creative at teasing him. I’d especially love to watch that.”
“Okay Aaron, assume I agree.” she asked, her tone of voice showing her exasperation. “What do you mean by intimate? I’m not interested in someone getting all handsy with me.”
“I don’t know,” I responded, “maybe he’ll try to fondle or kiss you; put his hand where he shouldn’t. You’ll know.”
Anna thought about it, and when she responded I could tell my enthusiasm was beginning to sway her. “Maybe,” she finally said, “but I’m not sure I’d know what to do. I’ve never flirted like that.”
“Let’s do it”, I begged, caught up in my own excitement. “Go in,” I pleaded, “act like you’re looking for someone. Let men check you out before you finally settle in at the bar, then order a drink and see what happens.”
She thought a minute before replying, “I’m still not sure. Where will you be?”
I told her about the isolated seats; that we’d be sitting together.
Taking her by the hand to reassure her I replied, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
“O.K.,” she reluctantly agreed, but then added, “but only if you’re going to stay beside me.” Then her face took on a defiant cast when she declared, “but I won’t even try if he’s not attractive.”
I laughed and agreed, glad I’d gotten my way. Then I asked her to give me a minute to get seated.
And so it began.
