Showing My Wife How It's Done: Anything She Can Do He Can Do Better

By Jessica Cockburn

A married couple, Dan and Trish, embark on a journey to explore each other's desires and fantasies. Dan, a contract hacker, is challenged by Trish to experience the things he desires of her in order to truly understand her perspective. As they navigate through the challenges and revelations of dressing up, experimenting with new experiences, and exploring their own identities, they discover a deeper connection and a renewed understanding of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Cockburn
• Release date: Sep 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215574324

Book preview

Showing My Wife How It's Done

Anything She Can Do He Can Do Better

Copyright 2023 Jessica Cockburn

Published by Jessica Cockburn at Smashwords.com

Smashwords.com Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

About the Author

Connect with Jessica Cockburn

Prologue

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

I'm not being unreasonable, I argued with my frustrated wife. There are millions of women who do everything I ask them to do, wear whatever I ask them to wear.

Millions of women are foolish, she retorted, her voice filled with disbelief.

Hoping to diffuse the tension, I continued in a calmer tone, trying to steer the argument towards a more rational conversation. Trish, I simply believe that you should take a bit more pride in your appearance, just as I am proud of you and the potential you have.

So you're not proud of me now, she seized upon my unfortunate choice of words.

No, that's not what I meant, I declared. You're already beautiful to me, but I'm also influenced by societal standards. Certain things trigger positive responses in me. I just want to see some effort from you, some willingness to meet me halfway.

Annoyed, she turned away, her long dark hair cascading with her movement. However, at least she had stopped arguing and hadn't stormed out of the room.

Honey, arguing is pointless, I reasoned. I genuinely don't think any of our discussions have been unreasonable, but if you see them that way, then... I sighed, feeling the frustration rise as I realized I could never force her to understand.

Suddenly, she twirled back to face me, irritation still evident, but her arched eyebrow suggesting a hint of curiosity about something I was about to discover.

How much longer will your current project last? she asked, completely changing the subject.

Perhaps I should provide some context. My name is Dan Miller, a contract computer hacker. I specialize in breaking into various computer systems to test their security and then assist in patching the vulnerabilities I find. I have the ability to infiltrate almost any system (yes, even the Department of Defense, although they were blissfully unaware of my presence). I offer top-notch computer security tools, software that surpasses any existing product in the market (if you overlook the little secret entrances I create for myself). My projects usually take at least a month since I genuinely deliver a solid service, safeguarding systems against anyone but me. Unless there's an exceptionally skilled hacker out there, one that has never been detected within my protected systems, I consider myself unmatched in my field.

I guess it would be around three weeks, I responded, perplexed. Why does it matter to you?

So you're saying that you won't need any professional interaction or communication for at least three weeks? she clarified.

Yeah, around that time. I could definitely manage without anyone finding it suspicious.

A smile of accomplishment adorned her face and her tone matched it perfectly as she said, Alright then, let's see if you still find it reasonable after experiencing it for yourself. Choose one of your own fantasies and fulfill it on your own. If, after completing it, you still find it reasonable, I'll give it a shot.

Don't be silly, I chuckled. The things that arouse me are typically actions performed by women for men, not the other way around.

I'm not being silly, she rebutted, echoing my previous stance. The issue isn't about the gender roles, and you know that. I love you and only want to make you happy. My concern is that the things you desire are unreasonably awkward, uncomfortable, or inconvenient. If you disagree, then prove it by enduring the inconvenience yourself.

Her anger dissipated like a deflating balloon, replaced by weariness and sadness. She approached me, wrapped her arms around me, and rested her head on my chest. Honestly, dear, I truly love you and don't want to argue. But I don't think you truly comprehend what you're asking for. If you were to experience what I already go through to please you, then you would understand.

She lifted her head, looking directly into my eyes. I'll even trust your judgment. Select one of your fantasies, and we'll make it a reality, with you taking on the role you want me to fulfill. We'll choose a duration that convinces me that you genuinely comprehend the implications, and if you still desire it after that time, I'll do my best to fulfill it.

Only one? I teased gently, still not seriously considering the idea, but attempting to maintain a lighthearted atmosphere.

Or a dozen, she laughed. Just as long as it gets you off my back until you truly understand what you're asking for.

I scoffed at the idea, finding it rather absurd. No, this is just ridiculous. Longer nails, higher heels, maybe some body shaping for a more desirable figure, these are completely reasonable requests.

Her annoyance flared up again, even faster than before. Prove it then, she challenged, but stop pestering me unless you're ready to give it a try.

She turned away from my embrace and stormed out of the room, her fists tightly clenched at her sides in silent fury. I knew I needed to do something, but I truly believed my requests were fair, at least for a woman, and I wasn't ready to give up on a more satisfying love life.

Wait, Trish, fine. You win. I won't bother you about anything I haven't experienced myself.

She turned back around, a renewed smile lighting up her face. The ease with which her emotions came and went never ceased to surprise me.

So, what's your first move? she giggled.

What do you mean? Nothing, I replied, I just said I would stop bothering you.

She quickly corrected me, her laughter close on the heels of my statement. No, actually you said you would stop pestering me about things you haven't tried first. So what are you going to try?

Trying to maintain my stance on the reasonable side, I argued, I still think my requests are rational, although I admit they're not insignificant. They are also distinctly feminine, not something I could do.

In private, you could, she asserted. You could wear high heels in the comfort of your own home, and no one would ever know. That's why I asked when you have to physically show up for your latest job. And there are other things too. I'm sure I could convince Janie, the manicurist at my salon, to give you the long nails you've been obsessing over.

I can't type with long nails, I stated firmly.

She responded with a triumphant crow. That's exactly my point! I work with a keyboard too, but you insist on me having long nails. They're just too much hassle for anyone - you, me, everyone.

Her words were starting to irritate me. I had seen plenty of secretaries with glamorous, long nails and even real estate agents like Trish. I knew that it was something one could get used to with time, even in a job that involved a lot of typing or keyboard usage. However, my work required me to type quickly in time-sensitive situations, making it different for me. I was about to explain this when I noticed the gloating triumph on her face. If I were to present any excuses, it would only fuel her self-righteousness. My own stubbornness kicked in, and I found myself agreeing to her outrageous proposition.

Fine. Since you're so sure of yourself, I'll do it. Set up a private session with your fingernail technician, and I'll have nails put on to prove how reasonable I've been.

She pushed further. For how long?

I'll keep them for as long as it takes to convince you I'm right, up until the three weeks I have left on this project.

Okay, she grinned mischievously, now, what about high heels?

An overwhelming surge of irritation washed over me. Despite knowing how foolish it was, I heard myself saying, Fine, and a corset and any other clothes you think I'm being unreasonable about. As long as I can keep it private.

Deal, she replied quickly, a bit too quickly for my liking. Doubts began to creep in. Had I been manipulated all along? Her triumphant grin showed no signs of fading as I called her bluff. Maybe it wasn't a bluff at all. Maybe I had just gotten myself into deep trouble.

When do we start? I asked hesitantly, wondering what I had gotten myself into this time.

After a brief pause, she confidently announced, Let's do it tomorrow. I'll pick up your clothes and arrange for Janie to have a private appointment when she usually closes her shop. That way, you'll be the only customer. Once you're done at the salon, I'll help you get dressed. From then on, you'll need to wear the heels and accessories, and make sure your nails are well-maintained, until three weeks from today.

I nodded abruptly and retreated to my cave to focus on hacking, my anger towards her stubbornness still lingering, overshadowed by my concerns about the situation I had gotten myself into. Soon enough, I became engrossed in my work, infiltrating my client's systems and snooping on his confidential affairs. This particular job was relatively straightforward because David Byrons, the general manager of Steinbeck Industries, was not well-versed in software or the world of hackers. He mistakenly believed that logic and rigid rules governed it all. Little did he know that true hacking was more of an art than any old master could demonstrate. Despite his skepticism, he had reluctantly hired me under pressure from his board of directors, some of whom had benefited from my services in other ventures. He was under the impression that he was well-protected, but it would be most gratifying to prove him wrong. Perhaps this time, I would go the extra mile and create a fake identity for myself within his company, surprising him with my conclusive results during one of his meetings. It would undoubtedly catch his attention. A key part of my service was demonstrating the importance of vulnerability to my clients by showing them just how easily it could be exploited. Sometimes, I would even draft counterfeit checks (which I never cashed, simply taking them as evidence) or circulate fabricated memos throughout their systems, organizing non-existent meetings. I once arrived with a pre-prepared patent application (that I never submitted) for one of their top-secret projects. It is astonishing how much information is concealed within company systems these days, all it takes is a weak link between seemingly isolated systems to grant me access to all of them.

The evening swiftly transitioned into night, then morning, as I progressed through the initial stages of my current intrusion. It was not unusual for me to become completely absorbed in my work, often necessitating late-night endeavors. However, when I finally retired to bed, utterly exhausted, the challenge Trish had presented and my impulsive acceptance of it were completely forgotten.

I woke up at noon after a mere six hours of sleep, interrupted by the sound of the ringing phone. Our phone service was complimentary, one of the perks resulting from one of my successful infiltrations, so we had multiple lines. One of them was exclusively for private calls between Trish and me, and I had installed a unique ring tone so I could immediately identify her calls. It was this particular phone that was currently ringing, causing me to groggily fumble for the receiver.

Yeah, what? I grumbled irritably.

A melodious giggle tinkled from the other end before Trish's energetically vibrant voice burst through, Wake up, sleepyhead! You're treating me to lunch.

What? Huh? I mumbled incoherently.

She simply laughed in response, waiting patiently for me to fully awaken. After a brief moment, I reconnected with the present moment and engaged in a more coherent conversation.

Alright, where and when? I asked.

How about Daniel's in twenty minutes? she suggested, her voice filled with a contagious enthusiasm.

Make it thirty, I countered her offer, feeling the need to shower and shave before going out.

She giggled ominously, Oh, yes, you definitely need to shave today, Dan.

Truthfully, I only shaved every other day as my beard was sparse. Trish, on the other hand, was a stunning beauty with lustrous dark hair and shining blue eyes reminiscent of Lucy Lawless (did you know her hair was dyed?). I, on the other hand, had light hair that seemed to fade away against my arms, making them practically hairless. With a scrawny physique