Those White Jeans Ch. 01

Back when we were in the early months of dating, my wife, Lisa, acknowledged that she can be flirtatious. She also said that one of the things she liked about me is that I don't get jealous, which allows her to be herself around other men. She was right, but on the other hand, she had never crossed any lines that I knew of, and I did not doubt her fidelity, so I had no reason to exhibit any jealousy in the first place.

I was attending law school at the time Lisa and I were dating. While law school entails a lot of studying, the truth is that law students do find time to go out and party together. So, over many months of occasional meet-ups at bars and several house parties, I had plenty of opportunities to get to know how Lisa interacts with new people. She would talk to anyone, always seeking a fun conversation and some laughs. Her ability to make friends so easily helped me a lot, as I have always tended toward being shy and quiet. Lisa was usually there by my side to fill in what would otherwise be uncomfortable silences that I caused because I didn't know what to say. And she had a knack for steering a conversation into topics that we all could talk about. If not for Lisa, I probably would have had far fewer friends in those law school years.

Inevitably, sometimes men who didn't know she and I were together would hit on her. I didn't fault them for that, because Lisa is very attractive. It's not just her friendliness which invites attention, but her good looks, as well. In a word, she is petite. Some might say she is too thin, but I think "athletic" is a more apt description, as she has enviable muscle tone from years of morning jogs and weekly games of tennis with her brother, Dale. She loves being out in the sunshine when she can, so she naturally keeps an even tan, which complements her long, blond hair and sets off her light blue eyes. One of the things I love about her, though, is that she doesn't usually wear clothes that show off her body. The way she describes it, she likes to simply "dress comfortably," which generally translates to something like loose-fitting jeans, a sweatshirt, and a baseball cap to keep her hair out of her face. Her appearance is that of being very approachable, and to me, very huggable, she's just so cute.

As I sit here thinking about how cute she is, I am reminded of what exemplifies that most, which is this: When she's wearing that baseball cap, she keeps the arched bill pulled down low over her face, and the bill is curved such that her eyes seem to be visible only to whomever she is facing. Since I am significantly taller than her, she has to look upward in an exaggerated way to see me from underneath the cap. I find it both ridiculous and adorable, but I keep that a secret, because I don't want her to become conscious of it and possibly change her habits as a result.

There were several occasions over those months of dating Lisa in which I could see her interacting with people without me by her side. Oftentimes I would pause for a moment just to admire her from across the room and question how I could be so lucky to have her. But I must also admit that sometimes I would pause just to see how she and another man interacted while I wasn't around, particularly when I suspected he would hit on her or when I thought she might find him to be attractive.

After several months I came to realize that Lisa's flirtations with other men were expressed exclusively through smiles, laughs, and words. Even when she drank a few alcoholic beverages, which tend to lower inhibitions, she never reached out and touched a man while talking with him, like so many women do when they're flirting, and the men never tried to touch her, either. It's as if those men knew subconsciously that they didn't have a chance with her. All the gathered evidence indicated to me that Lisa's flirtations - if they even rose to meet that definition - were innocent, and I had no reason to mistrust her. Furthermore, if the subject would naturally come up, Lisa would quite matter-of-factly tell me if she thought another man was good-looking, and the conversation about another man's looks never made her nervous or our conversation uncomfortable. This showed me both that she was honest and that she trusted our relationship. Eventually I knew beyond any doubt that, no matter how attractive another man might appear to be, the flirtations were meaningless, and I was the only man for Lisa.

Now it has been just over two years since Lisa and I married. Until last night, I thought that these three or four years together have been great. But here I sit, reevaluating everything I thought I knew, looking for clues that I might have missed, and trying to figure out what our future together will look like.

You see, we are here visiting the city just to enjoy a weekend together walking around and seeing the sights in this mild summer weather. Yesterday's weather in particular was perfect. It was sunny, and the temperature was at the point where I could choose to wear shorts and a T-shirt, or long pants and a long shirt, and either way I'd feel comfortable. I ended up wearing khakis and a T-shirt. And strange as it is to say this, I already know that I will never forget what Lisa wore yesterday, as unremarkable as it may seem: a navy blue T-shirt, white jeans, her tennis shoes, and her faded dark gray baseball cap. I'll remember the white jeans specifically because I have always found white jeans to be sexy, and Lisa's white jeans are not fitted as loosely as her other jeans. They aren't fitted too tightly, either. No, Lisa's white jeans are only tight enough to show that she is thin and muscular, but not so tight as to readily reveal additional details. Of course, as sexy as Lisa looked to me, we were both dressed only for comfort, as we knew we'd be out walking all day.

Since I'm thinking about what we wore yesterday, it comes to mind that I noticed sometime in the late afternoon that Lisa wasn't wearing a bra. We were entering a building, and as a matter of habit I placed my hand on her back to signal her to go through the door before me. Ladies first, right? I didn't feel her bra underneath my hand, but instead only the cool dampness of a light sweat brought about by all the walking. The way she tells it, she doesn't have much need for a bra, and therefore often doesn't wear one. So I didn't think anything of it. I simply noticed its absence, is all.

It is true that Lisa has small breasts which, to my mind, befit her slim figure and flat belly. Lisa, on the other hand, sometimes has referred to herself as "flat-chested." I think that's an overstatement, if only because she makes that description sound like a criticism. I like her small breasts. I love it that she often doesn't wear a bra. Sometimes when she bends over her shirt hangs down and I get a surprise peek at her nipples, and sometimes when we are hugging or kissing I'm able to quickly slip a hand under her shirt to touch her bare back or bare chest, which can be a huge turn-on for both of us.

It was late in the evening before we had dinner. We had been walking back toward our hotel and were nearly there when we came across a pub with its food menu displayed prominently on the exterior wall next to the door. The food choices looked delicious and well-priced, so we entered. Inside and seated, the waiter approached, introduced himself as Chris, and let us know the kitchen would be closing soon. I don't remember the exact words exchanged, but it was something like this:

"Oh, did we arrive too late?" asked Lisa.

"No, you still have about 15 or 20 minutes until it closes," responded Chris. "And the bar stays open until midnight, at least, so no worries."

"Well, as long as we don't piss off the cooks by coming too late, we're good," I added.

"Yeah, you're fine. Could I start you off with a couple of drinks?" Chris asked. "These house specialty cocktails are really good. Personally I would recommend the Blue Devil. It's sweet, but not too sweet, if you know what I mean."

Lisa looked over the description of the Blue Devil. I read it, too. I remember it had rum, blended berries, some energy drink, and some other things that I can't recall now.

Lisa said, "Yeah, that does sound good. I'll have one of those."

"IPA for me, please," I said.

Chris nodded and smiled at me, then nodded and smiled at Lisa as he left to get our drinks. I noticed that Chris smiled a little bit bigger and a little longer at Lisa than he did at me, and when Lisa smiled back at him, her eyes were hidden from me by the arched bill of her baseball cap as her head was turned to face him directly. It may sound like I'm making something out of nothing, but what I saw was nuanced, and most people would probably not even see it: The effort that Lisa put forth to turn her head and smile at Chris was just slightly more effort than someone would normally put forth in those circumstances.

After Chris departed, Lisa leaned toward me as if to tell me something confidential and said, "Did you see his eyes?"

"No, I didn't notice anything. What is it?"

"They've got to be the greenest green eyes I've ever seen!"

"Oh, no, I didn't see that. It's a little dark here, though. I'll take a look when he comes back."

We returned to the menus and discussed what to order. We were so hungry from walking all day, we agreed to share an appetizer in addition to our entrees. After a few minutes Chris returned with our drinks and asked to take our food orders. While he took Lisa's order, Lisa smiled and looked directly into his eyes. Of course, as already mentioned, she was admiring their greenness. Since I couldn't see his eyes just then, I took notice of the rest of his appearance. He had short, dark hair that was slightly longer on top. His facial hair was clipped rather than shaved, giving him a somewhat scruffy appearance that contrasted sharply to his smooth, tanned skin. He was also muscular, but not to the magnitude of a bodybuilder. The polo shirt he wore as part of his work uniform draped off his chest, which told me that he probably had a 6-pack under there. When Chris turned to me to take my order, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Lisa continued to look at him as her smile faded, replaced by a somewhat thoughtful expression. As Chris departed, he and Lisa exchanged smiles again.

"You're right," I said.

"About what?"

"His eyes."

"Yeah, right? They're so green, aren't they?"

"They certainly are."

We smiled at each other as we finished that topic of conversation. Talk turned to other topics while we enjoyed our beverages. I tried some of Lisa's Blue Devil, and it was indeed good, but just a little too sweet for my liking. Or maybe it seemed that way because I was drinking my IPA.

After a while, Chris returned to our table to apologize for the delay on our appetizer, which should be along in another few minutes. He noticed we had finished our first round of drinks.

"Another round for you guys?" Chris looked at me first as he asked, and I looked to Lisa for confirmation. He then turned to Lisa, who looked up at him from under that baseball cap and smiled broadly. "Same thing, then?" he asked.

"Yes," Lisa responded. "It's delicious, just as you said it would be."

Again they both smiled at each other slightly longer than a waiter and a customer normally would. When Chris departed I smiled at Lisa, but didn't say anything.

"What?" she asked, smiling.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Whatever. He's gorgeous. You know it."

She was right; I did know it. I'm not often able to distinguish when a guy is good looking or not, but this time I could recognize it not only in the way that Lisa was acting toward him, but also by my own eyes.

Through dinner Lisa and Chris exchanged a couple more smiles when he came to our table, but nothing was too remarkable about it. Before we finished our meals, some workers commenced clearing away the tables and chairs from the floor.

The next time Chris came by, I asked him, "Why are they taking the tables and chairs away?"

"Oh, when the restaurant side of the business winds down, the dining area becomes a dance floor. You guys should stick around. It gets packed, and it's a lot of fun!"

"We're not really the clubbing type," said Lisa.

"Perfect!" responded Chris. "The people that come here are really chill. They're not the clubbing type either. That's why it's so much fun."

Lisa looked at me, shrugged, and smiled, as if to say, "Eh, maybe, we'll see."

Not misunderstanding the meaning of Lisa's gesture, Chris said, "Well, if you don't have any plans otherwise, I recommend it. I'll be out there. I hope to see you both on the dance floor, too, letting loose and having a good time." Seeing that we were nearly finished with our food, Chris added, "Are you all set here? Another round of drinks before I bring your check?"

Before I could answer, Lisa responded, "Yes, please!" We were only about halfway done with our second round of drinks, but OK. By now I was feeling pretty good from the alcohol, and in this slightly inebriated state I always welcome another round.

Eventually our table was cleared from the main dining area, but Chris arranged for us to have another at the edge of what had become the dance floor. It was the same sort of table as the last, but the lighting was dimmer there, so it felt more intimate. Instead of sitting across from one another, we sat next to each other, Lisa to my left, both of us facing the dance floor. Chris was correct that it would get packed. Before we had finished the third round of drinks, it seemed the place had mostly filled up, in some places already elbow to elbow.

Lisa and I are indeed not the dancing type, as she said. We danced at our wedding and at a friend's wedding, but I can't recall another time where that was something we did. On the other hand, we never actually talked about the general lack of dancing in our lives, so I don't know that it's something we try to avoid. It simply doesn't happen, for whatever reason. But there, seated next to me at our table and looking out at the crowded dance floor, Lisa was moving to the rhythm in her chair, wiggling side to side as she sipped through a straw the last of her Blue Devil.

As her attention was elsewhere, I took the opportunity to admire her appearance, probably because the alcohol was making me horny. Odd as it may seem, I noticed for the thousandth time the shape of her upper arm as she held her drink. The sleeve of her T-shirt was short enough to reveal the firm muscles of her biceps and triceps and those trim inches that sloped into her shoulder. I thought I could see the soft, tiny blond "peach fuzz" that decorated her smooth, tanned skin, or maybe that was my memory playing tricks on me. My eyes drifted downward, and I was reminded again of the youthfulness of her breasts. They are small and firm, each fitting into the palms of my hands, excluding my fingers. Since I had discovered earlier that she was not wearing a bra, I knew that if I caught her movement at the right time, I might be able to see the outline of one or both of her nipples as the T-shirt stretched across them. My gaze continued downward, until I observed that her T-shirt did not quite cover her lower back. It wasn't tucked in at all, and the way she was seated, the slack in the waist of those white jeans gathered there and fell away from her body, allowing me to see not only her lower spine and the two deep dimples in those muscles on either side of it, but also downward to the waistband of her white cotton panties. Even in the dim lighting I could make out the tiny powder blue and pink flowers that decorated it. And then there were those white jeans. In a seated position, those jeans stretched to fit more snugly around Lisa's slender legs. When she wears jeans, she tends not to sit with her legs crossed, and right now her legs were spread so that her knees hugged the outer edges of her chair. I suppose it helped her to dance to the music while seated, as she was currently doing.

Watching her legs and torso as she rocked back and forth on her chair, it didn't take long before I began to feel an increased flow of blood to my groin. It had been at least a week since we last had sex. Not that Lisa necessarily intended it, but the white jeans were a signal to me that her menstruation had cleared, so maybe I'd be enjoying more of her rocking back and forth later. I realized I was staring at her a little too hard, so I ended my admiration of her body, and took another sip of my beer.

I decided then that Lisa's dancing in her chair was a hint that she would like to be dancing on her feet. Having just finished our drinks, I figured the timing was right to ask her to the floor. But as I turned to her, I spotted Chris nearby, dancing as he deliberately made his way to us, which paused my question to Lisa. She noticed him a moment later and welcomed his approach with a big smile. Chris danced in front of us while we spoke.

"How are you guys doing?"

"Great!" answered Lisa.

"Why aren't you dancing?"

"Oh, we just haven't gotten to it yet!" she replied. The energy in Lisa's chair-dancing increased, and she started following Chris's lead from across the table. They continued this for a few seconds more until Chris leaned toward me.

"Do you mind if she dances with me?" he asked.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the bill of Lisa's baseball cap turn so that she was facing me directly. I think that she wanted to see my reaction as much as she wanted to hear my answer. It crossed my mind that, as long as I knew her, she had never danced with anyone besides me, except for her father at our wedding reception. This meant that we were entering into new territory. Regardless of the thought, I felt no apprehension, because I trusted Lisa.

I waved them both on, saying, "Sure, go ahead, if you'd like." We all treated Chris's question as posed to both Lisa and me, so my answer was addressed to both Lisa and Chris.

Chris extended a hand toward Lisa. She promptly took it and stood. The two of them found their place on the dance floor to be right there in front of our table. I observed that Chris had changed out of his work uniform and into his own clothes. He wore dark, baggy jeans and a black T-shirt that fit tightly to his form. It didn't take long before I could see that his shirt did indeed hide a 6-pack. His pants were held up by a light brown canvas belt that also served to keep his shirt neatly tucked in.

Chris's movements gave me the impression that he's a pretty good dancer. Lisa - not as much, but she can keep with the rhythm of the music well, so she doesn't look awkward. Besides, the movement of that slim, toned body is a beautiful sight to behold, no matter what it's doing.

At first Lisa appeared to concentrate on becoming comfortable with her own movements, so she looked down at the floor for a little while, then at some other dancers, and then back at me. She gave me a big smile as she looked at me, and I smiled back. It was nice to see her having a good time. Then Chris leaned down and asked her something, and she looked up at him, nodding and smiling. The music was loud enough that I couldn't hear what he asked, even though they were just on the other side of the table.

They kept dancing into the next song, and I was feeling a little out of place without a beer in front of me, so I got up and asked Lisa and Chris if they wanted a drink, as I was on my way to the bar.

"No, I think I've had enough Blue Devils for now!" Lisa joked. To Chris she added, "They're really strong, aren't they?"

"No, they're not that strong. But they are good, right?" To me, Chris added, "I'm good for now, but thanks!"

"OK," I said. "Hey, can you keep an eye on the table while I'm up at the bar? I don't want us to lose it."