Faith, Friendship, and Passion

Up until this point, I honestly thought of Rebecca as a friend. It had never even crossed my mind to think of her in a sexual way. That changed very quickly one summer Wednesday evening two years ago.

Thursday was our neighborhood's trash day. Much to the neighborhood's dismay, the trash truck came very early Thursday morning. And very loudly I might add. It was annoying but almost comical that you could watch lights turn on in houses as the truck progressed down the street and woke everyone up.

Anyway, because the truck came so early, everyone set their trash out on Wednesday night. I was just finishing hauling ours out to the curb when Rebecca pulled in their driveway after returning from their Wednesday night church service. She unloaded the kids from the van and ushered them in the house. She then started gathering items into trashcans in the garage. I noticed the white Cavalier was not in the driveway, which meant Jonathan was not home to help...not that the jerk would have anyway. I set our can by the curb then walked over to help Rebecca with theirs. With 7 people in their house, they generated a lot of trash!

"Need some help?", I said as I walk toward her.

Rebecca, clothed in her usual oversized frumpy dress, flashed me a big smile and gave an exasperated, "Please!".

I grabbed the first trashcan and headed to the curb. "Are you throwing out bricks? This weighs a ton!"

She giggled and said, "No, I just cleaned out the refrigerator. There are a lot of old leftovers, expired condiments, and the like in that can."

"Feels more like bricks to me!", I shouted from the curb.

I walked back to the garage and grabbed the next can. As I leaned over to pick it up, I noticed two shopping bags right on top. One was from Von Maur, which is a very nice, relatively expensive department store. The other bag was from Agent Provocateur, which is a very upscale lingerie boutique downtown. Neither is a place that would carry her normal dowdy wardrobe.

I quickly thought in my mind about how to handle the situation. The bags were right on top. She had to know I saw them. She also had to see the obvious divergence between those stores' products and her normal wardrobe. Do I ignore it? Do I ask about it? Make a joke?

Well, I kind of went with option 3. I picked up the can and walked past her toward the curb. As I passed by, I raised an eyebrow toward her then looked down at the bags. Rebecca's face flushed with embarrassment. My heart sank. I didn't want to offend or embarrass her. I was just trying to have a little fun.

I set that can at the curb and walked back toward her to retrieve the last can. To my surprise, she gave it right back to me. She said, "Easy there Solomon. Take that last trash can out then I will explain." Solomon was a reference to the Biblical book Song of Solomon. To put it in blunt terms, Solomon was a huge horn-dog and wrote Song of Solomon, which is the Biblical equivalent to Literotica.

I think I walked a little quicker taking the last can out to the curb and even faster back to the garage where Rebecca was standing. I just looked at her and said, "Well?"

"Sit down. It's a long story."

We opened up a couple lawn chairs that were leaning against the garage wall and sat down.

Rebecca had a solemn look on her face and started talking, "I think you know Jonathan and I have far from a perfect marriage. It has always been that way. Our families went to the same church growing up and our parents were best friends with each other. From a very young age, the expectation was always that Jonathan and I would be married. I don't consider it an arranged marriage. We weren't forced into it but our courtship and marriage was certainly encouraged. He was the only boy that ever took me on a date, if you could call it that. It was more an appointment to tell me he was courting me and we would be getting married. It would have been the scandal of the church if we didn't go through with it."

"I liked him but I was never in love with him and I think he felt the same way. We were both too weak to stand up to our parents. Obviously, we went through with it and here we are. I've always hoped that love and passion would develop between us. I've made many attempts to capture his attention over the years without any success."

On the verge of tears, her eyes became red and watery. She continued, "This was just the latest failure. I bought a really nice dress and planned a romantic evening at home last weekend when the children were at his parents' house. I made a nice dinner and dressed up for him. He reprimanded and degraded me as soon as he saw me in the dress. He called it something a prostitute would wear."

Rebecca finished her sentence and started sobbing. I was at a loss for what to do or say so I just took her hand in mine and sat with her while I thought. She squeezed my hand and laid her head against my shoulder...something I knew her church and husband would never approve of.

I thought to myself, "She just laid her life out there for me. I guess it's only fair if I do the same."

I took a deep breath and started, "You aren't alone Rebecca. My marriage with Trisha certainly isn't perfect either."

I continued to tell her all about Trisha's background and how her parents' teaching about sex scarred her and really hurt our marriage. I concluded my monologue by saying, "I've come to learn that there is a real difference between "religion" and "faith". It's been my experience that religion is just a bunch of dumb, legalistic rules that only hurt people. In my opinion, true faith is loving God and loving other people. Real faith would never hurt people the way that we've been hurt by religion."

I took a risk and continued, "And I bet you looked beautiful in the dress you bought. I know that department store and I know they don't sell anything that could even remotely be considered prostitute attire."

Rebecca looked up at me, wiped her eyes, and without saying anything wrapped her arms around me. Once again surprised by her actions, I put my arm around her to comfort her. After several minutes she pulled away, looked up at me and said, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

I chuckled and said, "I think we've already crossed that line, don't you?"

She giggled and responded with, "I guess so." She paused and then continued, "I know you said that you and Trisha are not intimate very often. What do you mean by not very often?"

"Maybe a couple times a year. Why?"

In a disheartened tone of voice, Rebecca said softly, "Just curious. Jonathan hasn't even tried to touch me since our last child was born. Even before that, he was really only interested in being intimate when we were trying to get pregnant."

"I'm sorry."

She laid her head on my shoulder again. The scent of her hair, probably her shampoo, made its way to my nose. She smelled incredible. I began to think of her in a different way. I began to think of her as a sexual being rather than just a friend. Although she never wore makeup, I began to appreciate the natural beauty of her face. Rebecca truly was beautiful. Her skin was perfect...without a single blemish. Her slender face and slightly accentuated cheek bones were the perfect frame for her petite facial features. Her bright blue eyes and wide smile were visible reflections of the personality inside.

We sat there silently for several minutes then Rebecca started talking while her head still lay on my shoulder. She said, "I've been thinking about what you said about faith vs. religion. I don't mean just now. I've been thinking about it for the past year or so. I've always accepted what the church said...what religion said. But, I'm starting to understand that it isn't always right. In fact, like you said, religion can be just the opposite of what God wants...what true faith should be. I still have no idea what that means for my life, my marriage, or my church but..."

There was a lengthy pause like she didn't know what to say next. I interrupted before she had to think of something, "Faith is a very personal thing. You'll figure out what is right for you over time."

We sat for another minute or two before I said, "I better go make sure the girls are getting ready for bed like they are supposed to be doing. Thank you for trusting me with your feelings."

As I stood up and we parted ways, Rebecca quietly said, "I think you are about the only person I can trust with a conversation like that. Thank you."

For the next few weeks after that line-crossing conversation, we went back to our normal routine of short little conversations about kids and weather...nothing too deep. However, that talk about our marriages and the smell of her hair had forever changed the way I thought about Rebecca. I began to have an internal moral battle. We were both married and it was not right for me to be thinking of her that way...but I couldn't help it. As the Apostle Paul said, "For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do, this I keep on doing."

Toward the end of that same month, I took a couple days off work to do some long neglected chores around the house. On Wednesday, I worked out in the yard all day despite the 90-degree heat. I pulled weeds, trimmed the landscape plants, mulched the planting beds, mowed and fertilized the lawn, and painted an old bench that we had on the front porch. All in all a very productive day! Trisha even grabbed my butt as she said goodbye and left for her evening shift at the hospital. Very out of character. I guess she was impressed by how much I had accomplished!

At the end of the day, I was a mess. I was drenched in sweat and every spec of dirt I touched stuck to me. It was the landscaping equivalent to being tarred and feathered. I put all my tools away in the garage and went in the house for a shower. The cool water felt so good that I must have stayed in there for 30-minutes. Just as I turned the water off I remembered that I forgot to take the trash out to the curb for Thursday morning. I dried off and threw on an old pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. The old gym clothes were now my evening lounging clothes. I didn't work out much anymore. Consequently, the 6'-3" muscular build I had from playing football in high school had transitioned to an "average joe" type body. Luckily, I'm tall so the few extra pounds don't look too bad.

I headed out into the garage and moved slowly to take the trash out so I wouldn't get all sweaty again. In a replay of many Wednesdays, Rebecca returned from evening church and pulled into her driveway as I was taking care of our trash. Jonathan stayed at church for another hour or two after the service to do whatever it was he did. Just as always, she herded the 5 kids into the house then started gathering miscellaneous items together for the trash. I finished our trash then walked over to help carry theirs to the curb.

Rebecca looked up and said, "Hi there", as I approached but didn't look me in the eyes like she normally does. I said "Hi there", picked up the first trashcan and headed to the curb. I didn't think anything of her not looking me in the eyes until she did the same thing again as I walked from the curb back toward the garage. Rebecca was clearly staring at my lower body. I looked down to see what she was staring at. It was then that I realized that the outline of my dangling cock was clearly visible in the very thin gym shorts I was wearing. I had hastily thrown on the shorts after my shower without putting on any underwear. The shorts were now loosely clinging to my still damp skin and accentuated the size and movement of my tool.

There wasn't much I could do about it so I chose to ignore it and carry on. I grabbed the second trashcan and took it to the curb. On the return trip to the garage, Rebecca was intently staring once again. Her eyes were locked on my shorts and her face was flush. I grabbed the third and last can and headed to the curb again. Like the other two times, Rebecca stood in the garage with her undistracted gaze focused on my shorts.

I found the knowledge of her stare to be incredibly erotic. I suddenly became very aware of my sexuality. Everything seemed to be in hypersensitive slow motion. I could feel the weight of my cock and balls hanging in front of me. I could feel every swinging motion they made as I walked and bent over to pick up the trashcans. I could feel my manhood brushing against the thin, soft fabric of my shorts. It even seemed I could physically feel her gaze.

I didn't spend a lot of time checking other guys out in the gym to know how I rate. However, I do know from the few movies I've seen that I'm no porn star. Based on a little internet reading, I gather that I'm a little better than average. I'm about 9" long when hard and a little over 2" in thickness. I was completely flaccid the day Rebecca was staring at me and there was maybe about half that length swinging freely in my shorts.

I only say that to give you a mental picture of the situation. In reality, I seriously doubt Rebecca had any basis of comparison to know if what she was looking at was big or small. Like me, she was a virgin when she was married. Jonathan's penis was the only one she had ever seen. I'm sure she was largely staring just because it was a new and shocking experience for her.

When I reached the garage, I attempted to engage her in some meaningless chitchat to avoid the situation getting weird, or at least any weirder than it already was. It worked and we started talking about things our kids were doing. She offered me the now familiar lawn chair in her garage.

We sat in the garage for maybe 15 or 20 minutes having a relatively normal conversation except for the fact that she couldn't keep herself from glancing down at my shorts every couple minutes. As we were talking, my girls were playing our front yard. Eventually, they wandered over closer to us and I realized it was time to get them ready for bed. I said as much to Rebecca and stood up to leave. Her eyes were once again locked on my shorts as I stood up. She continued to sit in the lawn chair and never broke her stare until I broke it for her by turning around to walk away. I then covered myself with my hands and went in the house to put some underwear on so I didn't have to answer awkward questions from my kids.

Life continued on as normal for the next few weeks until near the end of summer. The girls went to Trisha's parents' house to get a full week of being spoiled by their grandparents before school started. Trisha and I would pay dearly for all the sugary treats and late nights upon their return home. I guess that is the privilege of being grandparents...spoil the kids then send them home. It's the ultimate payback for the grief we caused our parents when we were kids! Regardless, I was enjoying the time alone in the evenings while Trisha was at work. It was a good opportunity to "veg out" and recharge.

On Wednesday night of that week, my now usual routine with Rebecca repeated itself. I helped her with their trash and then set up lawn chairs in her garage to talk. As we sat down she asked, "What are your girls up to? I haven't noticed them playing outside like they normally do."

"They are at Trisha's parents' this week. Trisha is going Friday night to pick them up and then coming back Saturday night. It's strangely quiet when they aren't around."

Rebecca laughed and said, "I wouldn't know what that is like! With five, there isn't much opportunity for quiet!"

"Do you ever get any relaxation time without the kids around?", I asked.

"Funny you should ask. Jonathan and the kids are going on a father/kids church retreat this weekend. It will be the first time I have ever been by myself since having kids."

"Are you looking forward to it?"

"I guess. I'm excited and scared at the same time. I don't know how I will react. I am looking forward to is some adult conversation though. On Friday, I'm having a ladies day out with a couple other wives whose families are away at the retreat."

"Sounds like fun. I'm glad you are treating yourself to something you want to do. You deserve it."

A wide smile spread across her face and she said, "Thanks."

We continued some idle chitchat for a few minutes then went our respective ways.

Thursday I went to work, returned home, watched a movie, and fell asleep on the family room sofa. I guess that's the middle-aged father's version of a wild party while the family is away.

On Friday, I went to work and returned home to see Rebecca weeding her front flower bed in her usual frumpy dull blue dress and hair bun. As I pulled in the driveway, I remembered that today was supposed to be her ladies day out. I stepped out of the car and when over to say hi.

As I walked across the lawn I asked, "What are you ladies going to do tonight?"

She looked at me with a rather gloomy look and dejectedly said, "Nothing. The other two ladies I was going out with had things come up and cancelled. I'm just going to do a few things outside then find an old movie on TV or something."

"I'm sorry."

Rebecca continued in her downtrodden tone, "It's ok. I was just looking forward to the adult conversation that I never get. I'll get over it."

I tried to lighten her mood a little and joked, "We talk a fair amount. I don't count as adult conversation?"

My attempt at humor didn't work. Rebecca just grunted a little and sternly said, "Stop. You know what I mean."

I guess I had to try a little harder than that. "Well, we both need to eat tonight. If you'll accept me as adult conversation, you are welcome to come over and I will make us something for dinner."

"Really? You will make dinner?"

"Sure. What are you in the mood for? Italian? Stir-fry? Salad? Something else?"

Rebecca's mood changed in an instant. A huge smile spread across her face and her usual bubbly personality returned when she said, "Italian sounds great!"

"Alright. Italian it is! I've got something in mind but it will take about an hour. I'll go get started. Come on over whenever you want."

I headed home and started searching through the cabinets and refrigerator to see what I had to work with. I wasn't planning on cooking for a guest but I was looking forward to the challenge. One of my favorite hobbies is cooking and one my favorite things to do is create a meal out of whatever happens to be in the house...kind of a culinary scavenger hunt.

I shed my suit coat and tie as I walked in the door and immediately started my hunt. Between what I found in the house and what I could harvest from our vegetable garden in the back yard, I settled on fettuccini with chicken, broccoli, and tomato in a light alfredo sauce. I harvested the broccoli and tomato for the pasta from the garden along with lettuce, spinach, radishes, and carrots to make up a simple salad.

I washed off the garden harvest and started cutting up the veggies and chicken. I sautéed the chicken a large pan then added a bottle of alfredo sauce I found in the pantry. I let that simmer while I filled a pan with water to boil the pasta and started mixing the salad ingredients together in a big bowl. I stirred the sauce occasionally and added the broccoli. I held out the tomato and some fresh basil to add in just before serving.

I looked at the clock and realized that an hour and 10 minutes had passed. I thought to myself, "As excited as Rebecca seemed, I'm surprised she isn't here yet. Maybe she decided to finish weeding before she comes over."

Betting that she would arrive soon, I dropped the fettuccini into the pan of boiling water. "Well, she has 11 minutes", I said to myself.

I stirred the sauce one more time then pulled some dishes, silverware, and drink glasses from the cabinets. Just as I was starting to set plates on the bar height breakfast counter we have in the kitchen, I heard a soft knock on the front screen door. I had left the main door open for her and shouted, "Come on in! I'm in the kitchen!"