though I knew I’d never have the guts to do anything about it.
***
Becky and I spent more and more time with Don and Anita. They added a big, beautiful deck onto their house, and when the next spring came, they added a full-sized, in-ground pool in their backyard. Their house became the de facto social center of the neighborhood, and it seemed like we spent most of the summer on their deck or around their pool, sipping mixed drinks (Don made a killer Margarita), and mingling with their friends who all seemed as sophisticated and interesting as they were.
As much fun as we were having, I realized I was getting more and more obsessed with Anita. It wasn't anything obvious and lurid, but rather I thought about her more often, and fantasized about her on a regular basis when I made love to Becky. I never said a word to anyone, of course. I liked Don too much to do anything to hurt him, and I loved Becky too much to risk losing her. But often, I'd just think about Anita. That long black hair, those almond-shaped, black-violet eyes, her long, lean body and legs.
In August, there was a fire in my building at work. The sprinklers had gone off, soaking the place, and they had to close the place down temporarily as they did damage assessment and cleaned up the mess. For two weeks I had nothing to do but lounge around the house. Becky and I thought about taking a vacation, but she was planning a big conference for the end of the month, and could not take any time off.
When we told Anita and Don about my situation, they told me to feel free to come over to their house during the day and use the pool. Anita didn't work full-time; she was an interior designer and only worked sporadically when an interesting client came along. I felt awkward about going to their house when they were not in, and even more awkward about being with Anita alone, so I thanked them for their offer while not planning to take them up on it.
My resolve lasted all of two days. We got hit by a vicious heat wave, and I was bored, bored, bored. One day, after I'd done all the household chores I could think of, I peered into their yard. Both of their cars were gone, the house was quiet, and their pool was beckoning me to take a swim. I gave in and went over.
The water was cool and clear, and I sort of lost track of time. One minute I was splashing around by myself, the next I heard their patio door slam and saw Anita walking toward me wearing a bikini and carrying two frozen margaritas. Her bikini was tiny and suggestive, but Anita had lived in Spain and France, and she could not imagine wearing a dowdy one-piece, or even a conservative two-piece. Indeed, she once told us that even wearing a top sometimes felt oppressive to her. I got out of the water and started to make excuses. But Anita just dismissed them and told me to make myself at home.
I felt like I should leave, but I didn't want to seem rude, and Anita and Don had both invited me to come over and use their pool whenever I wanted. I started to relax, and joined Anita on the deck for a drink.
We spent most of the afternoon together. I went back to my house to get a book, and then read on their deck with her. I don't know if it was the sun or the booze (we had another couple of margaritas each), but Anita was definitely flirtier than usual. She even asked me to put some sunscreen on her back, and as I did, she reached back and undid her bikini top so that she would not have a tan line on her back. Her body was very warm to the touch, and as I rubbed her, she squirmed ever so slightly. I could feel myself getting an erection, and I had the distinct feeling that if I made a pass at her, she'd have responded enthusiastically.
Frankly, the sexual tension scared me. After a couple of minutes, I made some sort of excuse and started to go back to my house.
As I got up, Anita sat up, an arm draped across her pert breasts, and she said, "Jeff, thanks for coming over. I
***
Becky and I spent more and more time with Don and Anita. They added a big, beautiful deck onto their house, and when the next spring came, they added a full-sized, in-ground pool in their backyard. Their house became the de facto social center of the neighborhood, and it seemed like we spent most of the summer on their deck or around their pool, sipping mixed drinks (Don made a killer Margarita), and mingling with their friends who all seemed as sophisticated and interesting as they were.
As much fun as we were having, I realized I was getting more and more obsessed with Anita. It wasn't anything obvious and lurid, but rather I thought about her more often, and fantasized about her on a regular basis when I made love to Becky. I never said a word to anyone, of course. I liked Don too much to do anything to hurt him, and I loved Becky too much to risk losing her. But often, I'd just think about Anita. That long black hair, those almond-shaped, black-violet eyes, her long, lean body and legs.
In August, there was a fire in my building at work. The sprinklers had gone off, soaking the place, and they had to close the place down temporarily as they did damage assessment and cleaned up the mess. For two weeks I had nothing to do but lounge around the house. Becky and I thought about taking a vacation, but she was planning a big conference for the end of the month, and could not take any time off.
When we told Anita and Don about my situation, they told me to feel free to come over to their house during the day and use the pool. Anita didn't work full-time; she was an interior designer and only worked sporadically when an interesting client came along. I felt awkward about going to their house when they were not in, and even more awkward about being with Anita alone, so I thanked them for their offer while not planning to take them up on it.
My resolve lasted all of two days. We got hit by a vicious heat wave, and I was bored, bored, bored. One day, after I'd done all the household chores I could think of, I peered into their yard. Both of their cars were gone, the house was quiet, and their pool was beckoning me to take a swim. I gave in and went over.
The water was cool and clear, and I sort of lost track of time. One minute I was splashing around by myself, the next I heard their patio door slam and saw Anita walking toward me wearing a bikini and carrying two frozen margaritas. Her bikini was tiny and suggestive, but Anita had lived in Spain and France, and she could not imagine wearing a dowdy one-piece, or even a conservative two-piece. Indeed, she once told us that even wearing a top sometimes felt oppressive to her. I got out of the water and started to make excuses. But Anita just dismissed them and told me to make myself at home.
I felt like I should leave, but I didn't want to seem rude, and Anita and Don had both invited me to come over and use their pool whenever I wanted. I started to relax, and joined Anita on the deck for a drink.
We spent most of the afternoon together. I went back to my house to get a book, and then read on their deck with her. I don't know if it was the sun or the booze (we had another couple of margaritas each), but Anita was definitely flirtier than usual. She even asked me to put some sunscreen on her back, and as I did, she reached back and undid her bikini top so that she would not have a tan line on her back. Her body was very warm to the touch, and as I rubbed her, she squirmed ever so slightly. I could feel myself getting an erection, and I had the distinct feeling that if I made a pass at her, she'd have responded enthusiastically.
Frankly, the sexual tension scared me. After a couple of minutes, I made some sort of excuse and started to go back to my house.
As I got up, Anita sat up, an arm draped across her pert breasts, and she said, "Jeff, thanks for coming over. I
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