Camaraderie

"Ron, could you (mumble, mumble)...?"

"Say again?" I called from the garage back to my wife, Ginny, who was in the kitchen at the time and apparently thought that if she said it, I should have received it. Sigh.

"Just (mumble, mumble)... "

I put down the bicycle, wiped my greasy hands on a rag, and went back inside. "Say again?" I asked.

"Your phone was ringing, it looked like an unknown number, so I let it go."

"Perfect, thanks. If they want to leave a message, they can. I'm going to go back to tuning the bikes."

"Have fun."

"Yep, some fun a'coming, for sure!" I laughed as I exited back to the garage.

An hour and more grease later, both bikes were ready for the season, and I'd cleaned up. I finally got around to looking at the phone, and sure enough, the mystery number had left a message, so I listened:

"Ron, Comrade Jim here - hoping you're at this number. Gimme a call back if able."

Ah, that took me back. Jim and I were in a military unit back in the day that used "Comrade" as an ironic joke label for each other - our unit was dedicated to opposing the Marxists and their cohorts, and we were far from sympathetic to that cause. Only unit members called each other that, and it did lead on occasion to problems, but it stuck, and became a way of identifying each other, almost a fraternity secret handshake kind of thing. Anyway, Jim and I had been great friends back in our bachelor days "never sparing ourselves any good or evil," as T. E. Laurence once said of his days in the desert. I had to smile just thinking back on the crazy things we did, on missions and off, the on mission work not discussable even yet, the off mission episodes the stuff that makes for bar tales that others find hard to believe.

I called him back immediately.

"Comrade Jim," I said as he answered, "you're still alive?! How could that be??"

"No explaining it, Comrade Ron - no explaining it at all. And I've become so set in my ways, downright respectable, that you probably wouldn't recognize me."

"Yeah, same here - married, family, even a roof over our heads not made of tin - but it's good. I'm a fortunate soul."

"Likewise. Listen, I've gotta run to something, but I'd love to catch up. You still live in Boston?"

"Nah, left that long ago. I'll text you the whole address and email thing."

"OK, great - let me know a time that's good for us to talk - I'm back in all week next week."

"I'll do that - maybe we can actually meet up some time."

"Hope so, see ya, Comrade!"

"Za Vstrechu!"

And we hung up. The next week, we got on the phone, yakked for a good hour or so, catching up, and found that he and his wife were planning a vacation trip to New England to visit their grown son. The route was coming near our place on the way, so we arranged for them to stay with us for at least a night, maybe more, get the wives introduced, do some serious reminiscing, and maybe even include an adult beverage or two. I broke the news to my wife Ginny that Comrade Jim and his wife Sylvia were going to be our guests. Ginny was fine with the idea, and I knew our calendar was clear for that, another two weeks away. I explained the whole Comrade thing, and shared that I knew nothing much about Sylvia except that they'd been together long enough to have a son in his early 20s and on his own, similar to us. I hadn't asked more about kids (yeah, I should have), but it just didn't come up on the short call.

Long story short, we re-established our friendship, albeit online, and I looked forward to our actual reuniting. I think Ginny rolled her eyes a bit during the planning, wondering just how much I was going to revert to my wilder younger days despite my middle age. But it was all good.

Jim and Sylvia arrived on time as planned, a Friday afternoon (that was one thing we learned in the military - how to be on time), and while Jim seemed not to have aged nearly as much as I was worried that I had. We'd shared online photos, so I knew that he was still, like me, in decent shape, probably better looking since my hair had gotten thinner, dammit, while his was still full - fuller than in our military days.

Sylvia, a bit of a surprise, was a piece of work - great sense of humor, obviously loved Jim and gave him no slack in the teasing department. Ginny was probably a bit overwhelmed by both of their extroverted ways, but before long, it was apparent that Ginny was enjoying herself as well, as the ladies drank wine after a light dinner, while Jim and I got into the bourbon. Some great war stories ensued (places and dates redacted, of course), one or two even true, more rolling of female eyes, more male laughter, and eventually we all cleaned up and went to our quarters (Jim and Sylvia upstairs in the larger of our spare bedrooms, Ginny and I downstairs in the master as usual).

The next day, Jim and I golfed. After coffee and toast, we left the wives at home and headed out. The pro shop had clubs for guests, and we decided to do pull carts rather than drive, for the exercise. It was a great weather day, not so great for my golf game, but it never is. I'm not out there to score, just to enjoy the game and see if I can get a couple of decent shots in, and try not to go triple digits while I'm at it.

After the round, we had a beer at the 19th hole and relaxed. "We're pretty lucky, comrade," I reflected. "Decent life styles, decent jobs, great country despite its struggles these days."

"Yep," he answered, "And don't forget, we both married up - way up for you, understand."

Chuckling but not willing to give the edge, I said back, "Way up for us both from what I can tell. You're lucky anyone, much less a babe like Sylvia, ever bought your BS. What'd you do to get her to the alter - blackmail? drugged her? promised her riches you don't have?"

He laughed back, "Nope, just hauled out the trusty magic flesh wand - she took one look and that wrapped the deal."

"Yeah, right! Well, you did well, comrade."

"And you - you're definitely boxing way above your class with Ginny. She's a real wet dream!"

"Whoa - you're talking about the mother of our son there, buster!" I was still chuckling, faking the shock, and he knew it.

"Well, that's one mother I'd definitely like to fuck - she's a major MILF, as I hope you appreciate."

"Well, so is Sylvia, of course. But only in our dreams, bro, only in our dreams."

"Maybe, ever consider going outside the box on that topic?"

"Consider, sure. Act on it, nah. Too risky. I'll stick with gold at home and occasionally gazing at silver elsewhere."

"Your call," he said, and that was the end of that. But the seed of the idea had been planted, and it was definitely planted in the fertile soil of my dirt-rich mind.

------------------------------------------

That evening was dinner out, pleasant conversation, and I found I kept gazing back over at Sylvia, enjoying her somewhat low-cut dress that showed off some fine cleavage and no tan lines. She was an alternate to my Ginny - brown hair and eyes, well curved without being overdone, with what I guessed as C+ or so breasts, a definite change from my Ginny's blonde/blue athletic svelte A/B cup. Neither woman was model-gorgeous, but each was a step above just attractive.

I'd never strayed, and believed the same of Ginny. I figured that the risk of being caught might be mitigated by careful planning down to low, never to zero; but the penalty if ever caught would be devastating. That evening, faced with Sylvia's cleavage and enough bourbon to relax my Jiminy Cricket conscience, I wasn't about to pursue anything, but I was quite ok with looking, appreciating, and even fantasizing. My imagination drifted off, and more than once I was caught not paying attention to the conversation.

Later, in bed with Ginny, lights out, just zoning in the dark, I asked, "so how was your day anyway? You pretty much got a rundown on how well I didn't golf. Did you two get along?"

"Oh, yes, we hit it right off, and she's such an extrovert, she kept me laughing at stories of her antics over the years, how she and Jim got together and all that. We had a nice lunch, did some browsing around downtown but didn't buy anything, just strolled and chatted."

"Well, good. Jim mentioned their travel plans, and sorry, but I couldn't help offering them our place to stay again on their way back home. They're coming back through in a week - it's ok if they stay here again then, right?"

"Sure - Sylvia and I came to the same conclusion."

"Well, sweet dreams."

"You too."

We were silent for a moment, my eyes closed, about to slide into drowse and then sleep, when she spoke again.

"Ah, Ron?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"There's something else that came up, too."

"Yeah? What?"

"Well, we were having lunch, and I noticed that she had an ankle bracelet on. No big thing, but I complimented it. It's a simple gold chain with some kind of emblem, and it looked nice with her sandals and sundress. I didn't think anything but to say I liked it."

"And?"

"And, she asked if I knew what it meant. Which I didn't, other than being an attractive gold bauble, something that's not very common."

"And?"

"Well, she explained that it meant she was a 'hot wife,' as she put it. And I showed my naiveté by asking about that term, and she said it meant that sometimes she and Jim 'play around' with others, as in have sex!"

"Wow. Go on."

"Then she said that they don't do it very often, but every once in a while an opportunity comes up, and things just click, and they always check with the other, and they never go off alone, so that means they watch and get watched, and then maybe do it again but with different partners. You can imagine, I felt like the biggest hayseed, not knowing anything about such things. Then she pointed out that she had it on her left ankle, which meant, to those in the know, that she was already in a relationship - but if it was on her right ankle it would mean she was either open to something, or maybe already had picked someone out and that would be a signal of her willingness."

"Sounds like quite the underground society - sort of 'Eyes Wide Shut' - remember that one?"

"I remember you liked all the female nudity and I thought it was just an overaged teenager fantasy thing."

"Huh. Jim hasn't tried to hustle you, has he? She's been fun, but nothing suspect in that direction with me anyway."

"Remember, she wears it on her left ankle, so she's committed to Jim - I think maybe she wore it either to shock me, which she sure did, or maybe to be flirtatious with Jim without being too obvious to us that she was in the mood."

"Yeah, that makes more sense - I don't think she'd try to shock you in a mean way. It's probably just that flirt with Jim thing. But it sure is interesting."

By then, I was getting ideas myself, and reached over to cup Ginny's breast, but she shrugged me off, saying, "Nice try, but no, I don't think I'm up for sex right now. Sorry, but I'm tired, and besides, you'd probably be thinking more of Sylvia than of me."

"No way, hon," I said, honestly. "I don't fantasize about others when I'm with you - it's just not my thing. And it's ok. I wonder if she told Jim about your conversation, and if it will change the mood of things tomorrow."

And we slept, soundly for me, and with no dreams I could recall, although I did wake up with an enjoyable morning wood - not uncommon, just a nice feeling to have.

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The next day, their scheduled departure, was set for us to have breakfast together then for them to hit the road. We did that, Ginny going beyond expectations with a real feast, leaving me to need only to make the coffee, which I did adequately, I think.

We all sat down, feasted, and then Jim and I hauled the bags down and out to their car while the ladies tidied up the kitchen. When Jim and I had the car loaded, I could tell something was in the air with Ginny, not sure what. We all gave fond farewells, and I confirmed that they would come back through and stay again for a night - at least - on their way back home. Jim and I bro-hugged, while the various other combinations real-hugged, and they were off. We waved to them from our front porch, and headed back in.

"What did you think about that??" Ginny asked, ever the don't-need-to-explain-my-brain partner. I got her a cup of coffee and we sat back down at the kitchen table across from her.

"Nice folks - glad they came, look forward to seeing them again."

"Did you notice anything today?"

"Not in particular. They sure liked your bacon and waffles. Why?"

"Did you notice Sylvia?"

"This is turning into a real twenty questions - I noticed her, but nothing special, why?"

"Today, she had the anklet on her right ankle!"

"Ah, so yesterday she was in a relationship, and today she's just available? I guess I missed my chance," I chuckled.

"More than that, dufus! Today she's with us, and she indicates she's looking?! I'd say she's looking for you!"

"More likely that she's looking for you - you're the one she gave the ankle tutorial to. Jim never mentioned anything like that to me - other than saying you're a MILF and I'm lucky to have you, which was no news to me, other than being a bit surprised he'd come right out and said it... and more, now that I think of it."

"What more??"

"Well, he spelled it out at the time - out on the golf course. He said you're a mother he'd like to fuck if he ever got the chance, and then, I'm not sure how he put it, but he sort of hinted that trading sometime would be fine with him. I took it as somewhat lacking taste, but being a compliment to you. I told him we were both lucky in our choice of wives, and in the context of the conversation, he may have taken that as I'd like to be with Sylvia as well - we didn't pursue the topic."

"Oh. And why didn't you tell me then?"

"Hell, I don't know - it was just guy golf talk, locker room stuff, and it didn't go anywhere. Frankly, I'll bet that about 90% of the males out there would like to be with you, and the other 10% are pre-pubescent or post-Alzheimer's. You really are a babe, as I've told you over and over, and which I've appreciated since we met. It is something of a compliment to you that guys like Jim are hot for you - it's just sort of an insult to me, in a strict morality scenario, that they'd voice it to me, much less to you.

"But this is about Sylvia and you," I continued. "Jim and I weren't involved. Like I said, I'd theorize she's after you, just testing the waters."

"Me?! She's all hetero, I'd say."

"And I'd guess bi. In any event, they'll be coming back, so I'll try to pay more attention to her ankles, and you can either be on guard or open to things or whatever works."

"What?! And if I said that I was 'open to things' as you put it, with Jim, what would you want to happen, and what would you do?"

Uh-oh. Deep waters, tread delicately, buster.

"Ah," I started, not really sure about the answers to her questions, "well, part of me thinks it would be fun, and harmless fun, between friends. And part of me sees the risks involved, but at least we don't live near them or need to ever see them again if things don't go right. And part of me never wants to share you, because I'd be scared to death you'd leave. So there."

"I'd never leave someone I love with all my heart, you dummy!" she said.

And then I added, "... and part of me just gets turned on by the whole scenario - go figure, but so there."

"Turned on, as in more turned on if you were watching me make it with someone else than if you were just getting a hall pass?"

"Yes, the turn on is about sharing you. I'd be more turned on by you and me with another guy than by me with another woman, or than by you and me with another woman, although that last one has its own set of possibilities."

"I wish they weren't counting on coming back on their way home, but at least I've got the time to think about the whole thing, and what if - what if they really do want to have a foursome, and I don't think I do?"

"Hey, if any of the four of us is not willing, or is even on the fence, I say we decline gracefully, and toast our good fortune to be able to have good friends, regardless of other issues."

"I may hold you to that, but if it's a turn on to you, I guess maybe I should at least consider it. I don't want to be opposed to something you want... but this is a big step - I'm still not really sure about this."

"Well, don't be doing it for me, Ginny. I've been fine with you monogamously (is that word?), and will continue to be after their re-visit, regardless of your decision, regardless of what transpires. You take your time, and if you want to talk, I'll talk. Otherwise, I'll give you your space - on this topic. I'm not about to give you your space in bed!" I said, laughing, and hoping that it would be taken as a flirtation.

"No, I wouldn't want you to. I like invading your space there, and you invading mine particularly!" she smiled back, and I knew things were ok. Whew!

---------------------------------------------------

The time crawled and flew - the way time does - and the next thing we knew, another late-afternoon, and Jim and Sylvia were pulling up outside our place. We welcomed them in, carried bags as before, and so forth. I noted, and I'm sure Ginny did, that Sylvia was indeed wearing that anklet on her right ankle, and I was hoping that wasn't freaking Ginny out, but it didn't seem to be an issue, just not mentioned.

They'd been on the road and wanted to clean up, and so they headed off to the bathroom upstairs while Ginny and I bided our time downstairs. Not too long after, they emerged, Jim in shorts and polo shirt, Sylvia in a red blouse and khaki mini-skirt (not too mini, very casual, and sexy because of her, not because of the skirt). I'd also been in shorts and a camp shirt, Ginny in a tank top and shorts - also sexy to me, since I knew it was a shelf bra thing, no extra bra straps.

Soon after, Jim and I headed off to the store to get more charcoal and fresh vegetables- something I'd intentionally "forgotten," to give us time on our own, and the ladies the same.

We chatted about nothing in particular - their other vacation days, the golf where they'd gone. After leaving the store with the briquettes, we headed back home.

"We're really glad to be back here with you guys, comrade!" Jim remarked.

"And we're glad as well - we'll definitely kick back this evening - no schedule, nothing but good food, good friends," I answered, unsure of how to address the elephant crowding the back seat of the car.

"You know, Sylvia's taken quite a liking to you - she thinks you're 'hot' as she puts it," he opened.

"Well, I'm flattered - she's definitely needing that optometrist's appointment if she's seeing me that way." I laughed.

"Yeah, well, I'm seeing Ginny likewise. You know, this is a great opportunity for the four of us to get to know each other a lot better, if you get my drift."

"Is that what the right ankle thing is about?"

"Ah, you noticed. Yes indeed. I was half hoping that Ginny would be wearing one as well by the time we got back here, but I realize that's a big step. You haven't slugged me yet for suggesting this - how are you with the idea, anyway?"

"Well, since it's out in the open, I guess, I'd have to say I'm turned on by the idea, but Ginny is reluctant to say the least. She's said she'd consider doing something like that for my sake if that's what I want, but I'd want her to be in favor of it on her own, not just for me."

"Uh-huh. I'd agree with feeling that way. Sylvia and I sort of fell into our first time, and I remember both of us worrying that the other wouldn't feel as we did, but it turned out great, and we were able to both get on board, so to speak, right from the get-go. Is there anything that you'd suggest I do or not do, or that Sylvia do or not do? We'd love to move to the next step with you two, but we don't want to scare you away, and you know that I wouldn't do anything to mess up a comrade!"