My Wife's Best Friend

Connie had always been an anomaly as my wife's best friend. She usually seemed very cheerful but was actually an introvert, whereas my wife was upbeat and outgoing. Connie was sexually active at 15, but suffered emotional problems after being sexually assaulted by her cousin. She had never married and had only scattered male relationships throughout her adult life. Connie's last affair was with a married man and ended fifteen years ago. After an abusive high-school love affair and the later death of her father, Connie became the "family matriarch" for her mother and brother. My wife, Debra, on the other hand, recovered from a bad marriage to her high-school sweetheart and married me. They seemed to be emotional opposites and yet had been best friends for 45 years.

For me, Connie was a sometimes fantasy. She was modestly attractive in a "girl-next-door" ordinary sort of way; was very self sufficient and emotionally well-armored, and was a nice and nurturing kind of person, but not exactly sexy. What fueled the sometime fantasy was that she was ethically unavailable, shunned all male romantic possibilities, and seemed to treat me very cooly. 'Forbidden Fruit'? What could be more subconsciously attractive to the average male libido? When she visited us she clearly was uninterested in my presence, was polite but pleasantly ignored me, and made me feel that she resented my being there. Connie's relationship was with Debra.

Anyway, I saw so little of Connie during the twenty-five years Debra and I had been married before I retired that the fantasy was only a sometime fleeting thing. When she and Debra got together they either met somewhere to do something or Debra visited Connie at her home. Connie rarely visited our home.

Finally, because of her personal circumstances (which in later years included a terrible sister-in-law), Connie became almost obese and drifted out of my fantasies. I secretly felt sad. Connie could have made someone a terrific wife/companion. But, romantically, she divorced the world. Then, when in her late forties after she had devoted her "best years" to being the significant parent not only to her brother but also to her mother, her mother died and her brother's wife became abusive of her brother and their children.

For the past six or eight years since her mother died Connie had shown what appeared to me to be two symptoms of a manic depressive. She talked almost non-stop, rarely inviting dialogue; and from her descriptions, was what might be called an "ideal employee" - working diligently, non-stop, and doing enough work for two people. At home she always had a project going and found it difficult to relax and do nothing. For some reason these symptoms never interfered with my fantasy - then again, what the heck, it was my fantasy!

When I retired, Debra and I moved to Florida. We loved it. Soon Connie was losing weight and talking about moving to Florida. She thought she could get a transfer to one of her company's Florida facilities. I would have bet the farm that she was dreaming. But her disappointment, discomfort, and anger with the situation with her brother and his wife were a stronger motivation than I had guessed.

Lo and behold! Connie came to Florida. Since we had last seen her, she had lost most of her excess weight. For a 55 year-old she was no Barbara Eden but, on first impression, she looked pretty good - a little wide in the hips, a modestly round tummy, a reasonable waist, and perhaps B-cup "mature" breasts - on a scale of one to ten she was no better than "so so". But selected assets were attractive and - she was a long-time fantasy.

We saw Connie almost weekly for the first month she was down. Sometimes she would weekend at our place. On a couple of those weekends we all relaxed in the spa late in the evening. I was amazed at Connie's figure in her bathing suit. Her breasts were a little more generous than they had been most of her life - not voluptuous, but softly attractive. I was reminded of how comparatively long Connie's legs were. And her weight loss had redefined a reasonable waist which added definition to quite generous hips. The legs were well shaped with good calves and ankles. Her thighs were full but well formed, "comfortable" with just a little cellulite. She hadn't become "skinny" - so she still had the prominent, feminine tummy and a typical middle age derriere. She wasn't svelte but, all-in-all, Connie looked good, she was attractive ... again ... and softly comfortable with those generous hips and thighs.

Connie had managed to change her life quite a bit - pretty adventurous. She had gone on a very regimented diet program to shed 60 pounds; and then sold the house she had lived in most of her life, took leave from her job with only slender prospects for getting the transfer (that finally materialized), and moved to Florida. A recent innovation was very surprising to me - "Hellos" and "Goodbyes" were now accompanied by friendly hugs and kisses. I couldn't help but wonder what in her view of me had changed that made me "OK" for a hello/goodbye hug and kiss.

When we bought a new computer I suggested we give her our old one. She was appreciative and obviously happy - but in her subdued way. A week later she sent a thank you note written on her "new" computer which made it clear she was enjoying it.

A couple of weeks after Connie had setup her computer I found two manuals we should have given her. Debra called and told her we'd get them to her as soon as we could or Connie could get them on her next visit. (Now that she had settled into her job and re-established a relationship with a nearby uncle, she didn't visit us as often.)

I had an errand in Connie's neck-of-the-woods a week later and Debra called to see if it was convenient for us to drop the manuals off. At the last minute Debra was asked to play tennis so I went on alone. Connie was surprised when I arrived without Debra but, even without the "safety" of Debra's presence, gave me a genuine hug and kiss greeting (amazing); very sisterly, but none the less, warm and pleasant. I told her about my errand and made motions for leaving.

Her hand was still lightly on my arm. "Why don't you stay for some tea? I made some shortbread cookies last night." She genuinely seemed to want me to have tea with her.

I probably seemed hesitant because I was a little uncomfortable. To my recollection, this was the first time in the 30+ years I'd known Connie that we were on the verge of spending one-on-one time alone together - she had seemed in recent months to like to talk with me on the phone when calling Debra - but this "in-person" situation was different. "Well, ... OK ... sure. That sounds nice - I'd like some tea." I followed her into her trailer home. It smelled good. I caught the odor of baking muffins. "Mmmm, smells good in here."

"If you'd rather have bran muffins they're just out of the oven."

"I guess I'll go for a muffin." The baking of all the goodies puzzled me. "Boy! Lots of baking."

"I won't eat much of this. It was too hard to lose the pounds. It's just my turn to bring munchies to work Monday."

"Ah! That answers the question."

Shortly we were sitting in her living room with our tea. She sat in a chair and I sat on the sofa. As might be expected, our conversation was light and superficial. Her appearance wasn't fueling my fantasy - she was wearing her trademark tailored blouse with slacks and sport shoes - sort of Florida matronly. After a reasonable time I began to feel like I should be leaving and probably telegraphed the feeling in some way - perhaps body language. She promptly introduced a new subject into the conversation. Unusual - I thought she'd welcome my departure.

The new subject was her recent Mall visit and a new dress she'd bought on sale at one of the better stores. She wasn't sure if the skirt was too short. I told her that a dress from that particular store wasn't likely be inappropriately short, and besides, with her attractive legs, she'd look terrific anyway. She got a little flustered at that last remark.

I hadn't intended to make her uncomfortable and said, "Please don't let me embarrass you. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that."

"It's all right. I'm not embarrassed - just a little surprised."

I replied, "You shouldn't be - since you've trimmed down, your legs are looking terrific." Then I tried to recover with levity, "Why not bring the dress out and hold it up to you. I'll give you my expert opinion on length."

Connie surprised me with, "OK", and left the room. When she returned she was wearing a pair of medium heeled business pumps and the new dress - with tags still attached. "I thought putting it on would be better than just holding it up. Well, how about it, Mr. Expert?"

"Wow!" I took a breath. "Very attractive!" The hemline came two or three inches above her knees. I was confident Connie hadn't worn a dress that short since highschool. She had aroused my dormant fantasy. She wasn't wearing her usual inexpensive pantyhose either (it was pretty humid and warm) and her bare legs were appealing in the pumps. "You're going to fetch some admiring looks in that dress."

"What you're telling me is that the dress is too short." Spoken with humor, but I could see that she was quite serious.

"Uh uh, that's not what I'm telling you. If it were an inch or two shorter you'd rate a greater "Wow!" from the male populace, but the prudes still wouldn't raise an eyebrow. What I am telling you is that this dress isn't the least bit matronly. It's very smart and sharp and sophisticated ... and attractive."

"Do I sometimes look matronly?!"

"Uhmm, well, ... not exactly, uh ... maybe some of the clothes you wear." Oh oh! Trouble?

"You couldn't be any more candid could you?"

"Not and finish this muffin in peace."

"You're right about that!" Thank heavens for her sense of humor.

"You look absolutely terrific!"

"Thanks. You can have another muffin." She was relaxing. "So, should I keep the dress?"

"Definitely."

"Should I try to lengthen it a little?"

"Only if you have to - to be comfortable. This length adds an element of updated smartness to your aura. I recommend you not change a thing. Hopefully, there won't be enough material in the hem to lengthen it anyway."

"Hmmm. Well, maybe I'll keep it." She fussed with the hem and sleeve openings. "Matronly?"

"Not now! And, by the way, you really do have nice legs."

"You lecher." She relaxed and sat down ... crossing her recently admired legs with an obvious touch of ceremony. "Would you like a little more tea?"

"Just a little."

She got up and came over to the couch to fill my teacup. When she sat down again she sat on the couch kind of sideways toward me rather than in the chair. "Do you really think my legs are ... attractive?" I think she was warming up to the idea that she still just might have some 'come-hither' qualities.

"Very." She crossed her legs slowly and leaned back to relax. She was beginning to unconsciously pose and was also beginning to get to me. When sitting in the short dress she was showing a lot of leg and more than half her thigh up the side. For Connie, this was a little adventurous.

Staring almost suggestively at her legs I became a little theatrical with the further emphasis, "Very!"

With mildly sarcastic humor, "You're being fresh ... but sweet. You should visit more often." She took a sip of tea and tried to tug the skirt down with no success. I took a longer look at her thigh and noted that it elicited urges to feel, caress and cuddle with it - I like nicely shaped and generous thighs and Connie's were pretty well shaped and very generous - even after her weight loss. Without pantyhose the bare skin elicited increased urges and I momentarily fantasized about the soft warmth of Connie's inner thighs near her 'love center'.

Snapping out of my fantasy but still enjoying the view of her bare-skinned thigh, I returned the humor, "Mmmm, that's a tempting thought, but be careful! I may be old but I'm not dead." Both of our jests probably disguised suggestive truths. Mine may have been a bit too suggestive because of my obvious ogling, but still good-humored.

When she tried to tug the skirt down again I knew she was conscious of the innuendo and the ogling. But she finished the exchange of humor with, "Promises, Promises."

When we both laughed it released the tension that was beginning to build but didn't dismiss the lingering aura of the suggestion. Each of us unconsciously sighed a little. It was an appropriate time to leave, "Well, best I be getting on. Thank you for the very lovely fashion show. I like your new dress and your new look. And maybe a sparky, sleeveless sun dress in that length - or an inch or two shorter - would be cool and comfortable this summer - and also fetching. Good for work and good for play."

"Hhmmm, my very own fashion consultant. I think I'd better get used to this dress first." The eyebrow raised again.

We began to move. The uncrossing of her legs seemed "thoughtful" - as though she were now more acutely aware of them, and for the first time, was enjoying their obvious effect on me. While she uncrossed I watched. She stroked the top leg from thigh to knee and back and watched me watch. It was enticing. I suspected she might be teasing herself as well as me and, given her lifelong attitude toward men, she likely was toying with me - kind of a control thing. I, of course, was flirting.

We moved toward the door and I thanked Connie for the tea and muffin. She didn't come outside but moved to engage in the hug and kiss ritual inside. I tried to make it "brotherly" even though I was feeling something a little more complicated. Connie made it more difficult when she didn't pucker for her sisterly kiss, made it softer than usual, didn't end it with the customary "smack" sound, and didn't accompany it with the obligatory patting of a hand on the back. I surprised myself by unpuckering and actively participating. I think we each suddenly realized something unplanned was going on because we withdrew a little abruptly with surprised looks in our eyes.

We hadn't quite moved apart yet when I made the standard parting invitation but, with our eyes on one another and my voice softly intimate, it may have sounded unusually sincere, "I'm glad I stopped by. I hope you'll be coming to visit soon ... maybe you can stay over a weekend or something."

Her voice also was intimate, "I should, I haven't been over in a while, have I? Thanks for bringing the manuals. Drive carefully." She hadn't let go of my arm and she tugged a little to pull us back together for another little kiss saying, "And thanks for the ego boost." The kiss was even softer but she was careful not to let it linger. "You were a good sport about the dress thing, I'm glad you came."

I kissed her cheek, "I'm glad I came too - and you do look great." She meaningfully squeezed my shoulder. I sent her an air kiss, turned and left.

My visit with Connie filled my thoughts during the rest of the afternoon. I finished my errand and drove home - thinking of the unusual time with her and trying to figure out what my motives were. We seemed to have parted with a much different attitude toward one another. Had anything really serious taken place? If so, was she serious? Or just teasing herself - at my expense. Was I serious? One thing was certain - I had been somewhat titillated.

Debra and I were very happy together - except! The "except" was that I couldn't get sexually excited or desirous with her anymore. I had a lot of guilt about this because I loved Debra deeply. She was my "Sunshine". And she really needed the closeness of sexual contact.

On the other hand, I really wasn't dead! My 'equipment' responded normally to auto-inducement accompanied by fantasy - and had begun to respond to the unusual interchange of feelings and looks during Connie's and my good-bye.

Finally I dismissed the thoughts as best I could. Events will unfold - or they won't. I wasn't going to make anything happen. The chips will fall. After all, Connie was the lid on this can of worms - so to speak. I had no control over her, and it appeared I had questionable control over myself. Wait and see.

Within a week Connie called Debra to say she'd like to visit over the following weekend. Of course, that was fine with us. It was getting close to "Garden Club Flower Show time" though, and Debra had a luncheon meeting that Saturday. Connie said she'd come Friday afternoon - no problem.

Connie arrived. We all had supper together Friday night and breakfast Saturday morning. When Debra left for her meeting, Connie and I were left alone for a couple of hours. She brightly suggested we freshen up in the Jacuzzi. She had been sporting some fairly short shorts and a blouse all morning. I had long since succumbed to her legs. In the shorts and cute half-heel mules she was wearing they looked long and lovely; and then there were those generous thighs, yumm.

I got the Jacuzzi heating and changed into my swim trunks. Connie changed into a tank suit that was a little saucier than anything I had seen her wear before. It wasn't racey, but it came high on her hips in a modified French cut and somewhat low in the bodice - she actually showed a little of the area between her breasts. Her fullness there was modest but the bit of soft roundness that was visible was appealing, and there were those legs! And hips! Her hips and thighs were magnificent in the high cut.

I had no idea where this was going. I don't think Connie did either, but it seemed she was intent on experimenting. We got into the Jacuzzi and relaxed a little. We continued the light conversation from breakfast. At some point I described the sore muscles I had from yard work the day before. Soon Connie had me backed up to her while she rubbed and massaged the aches. She was complaining of similar aches from moving stuff around her place. Her hands felt good. "I think I'll be able to do better if you're closer. Why don't you sit on the ledge - between my legs?" There was just enough room for me and it felt cozy snuggling back against her. Soon her thighs were hugging me to hold me firmly against her massage pressure. I sensed their pleasant softness against my hips.

I encouraged with, "This feels terrific, but I'm having trouble not floating away when you push hard into my back and shoulders."

"I'm trying to hold you still between my legs."

"That's helping ... a little."

"Why don't you hold on to my legs - see if that works." She continued to knead and I grasped each of her legs at mid-thigh. There was the expected 55-year-old softness, but there was fairly good tone and firmness beneath. She felt good. I remembered my first glimpse of these outer thighs in the new dress. I innocently grasped here and there and stroked up and down a couple of times.

"This is better. Mmmm, you have magic hands. That feels so good." I was enjoying her massage and I was enjoying her thighs - I continued to feel and stroke them "innocently" while I steadied myself.

"Are you feeling all my fat?"

"Of course not! Anyway, your thighs are attractive - they're not too fat." Oh, my! I wondered what she was really thinking. There was little doubt about what I was thinking.

"Thanks. But you're just saying that to be nice."

"Not a chance. And, if you must know, they feel sexy."

"You really are a lecher! If we were teenagers I'd think you were trying to sneak a feel." She playfully squeezed a muscle a little harder. I playfully but suggestively stroked up and down. She didn't stop me but instead hugged me playfully in her thighs and said kind of cutely, "You're so bad!" I continued to enjoy stroking the softness I found so attractive, and Connie continued not to discourage me.

I hated to abandon this tantalizing position, but I was beginning to show a "sign of enjoyment". Besides, I thought I should offer to perform equivalent service. After all she had complained of similar aches and pains. "OK, that feels great, but reluctantly, I'll stop being a lecher now. Besides, it's your turn. I'll see if I can do for your aches and pains what you've done for mine."