The Unfulfilled Wife

"How much longer are you going to keep this up?"

In the dimly lit room, I lay limp on the massage table, finally surrendering to the man behind me with a plea.

But his movements only grew more intense...

My name is Chloe Anderson, the seemingly glamorous owner of a spa.

Before marriage, I'd never been particularly interested in intimacy, considering it merely a trivial part of life.

But after tying the knot, my husband Chase became consumed by business, constantly traveling like a corporate nomad. Even on rare visits home, he'd rush through our moments together, leaving me unsatisfied.

This stark contrast made me relive those fleeting passionate memories during countless lonely nights—even dreaming things too shameful to admit.

I knew it was my body's primal craving. The more I was denied, the more I desired.

That evening, I carefully tracked my ovulation period, bathed, and slipped into lingerie, eagerly awaiting Chase's return. Then my phone rang abruptly.

"Sweetheart, there's an issue with the project. I have to leave for a business trip. Go to bed early, and don't forget to lock up the spa."

"Got it."

Hanging up, I sighed and threw on a simple dress before heading downstairs to the Spa & Wellness Center.

Chase had opened this place for me—a convenient way to pamper myself and pass the time. Owning the business gave me peace of mind.

As soon as I stepped inside, I spotted a broad-shouldered man at the front desk signing up for a membership. His toned muscles strained against his shirt.

I settled onto the lounge sofa, flipping absently through a magazine while chatting with an aesthetician. Then his deep voice cut through the air:

"I'd like the woman in the white dress to assist me."

"But she's the owner—"

I glanced up at him, then at the hesitant receptionist, feeling a sudden spark of mischief. "No problem. I'll take care of you."

Once he entered the private room, I dismissed the staff and locked the front door before heading to the treatment area.

The man had already removed his shirt, lying face-down on the table in disposable shorts, waiting silently.

"The owner's personal service must be... exceptional?"