I’m sitting here, my heart pounding, as I remember the look in his eyes when I told him I wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. The red dress clings to my curves, the fabric barely containing my perky breasts, and I can feel the power I hold over him. He knows I’m out there, living my life, and he’s left to imagine what I’m doing, who I’m with. The thought of it makes me wet, knowing he’s at home, alone, thinking about me. I’m his hotwife, and I love every second of it.