We were just neighbors. We lived next door to each other in identical townhouses in sunny Arizona. Each townhouse had a small, ten-foot by ten-foot concrete pad at ground level behind the building. The developer called it a patio but it was barely large enough for a small table, two chairs, a propane gas grill and a single chaise lounge.
I was in my late twenties and single. I'd managed to scrape enough money together to buy the townhouse and qualify for the overly large mortgage. It left little disposable income for fun and games and that's why I spent so much time at home sitting on my patio reading novels almost as fast as James Patterson could publish them.
I worked primarily at home, driving once a week into the office in Prescott. The weather was almost perfect year-round and I spent time on my patio before work in the morning, during my lunch break and after work in the evening.
My neighbor was an attractive woman about the same age as I was. We moved in on the same weekend and we helped each other carry items during the weekend. We connected at the curb in front of the townhomes when we were both at our rented UHaul trucks at the same time.
"Hi, neighbor," I said as I approached her and held out my hand in greeting. "Gary," I added.
She turned to face me as I approached and broke into a wide smile. "Ashley," she responded and we shook hands. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers. Her hair was up in a loose knot on the top of her head with wisps escaping in every direction. She was also wearing a ring on her left hand but I didn't see another soul that could have been her partner.
"Nice to meet you," I said. "Looks like we're going to be neighbors."
"It certainly does," Ashley responded.
We worked together for the rest of the day and, using our towed cars, returned the rented trucks. Sunday,,we helped each other arrange our meager belongings throughout our new homes. Sunday evening, I was lounging on my patio, reading a Lee Child novel and drinking beer when Ashley came out on her patio with its lone lounge chair. She settled on her chaise on her back in the late day sun with her sunglasses over her eyes and her hair hanging loose.
"Tired?" I asked from about nine feet away.
"Exhausted," Ashley admitted. "The sun feels wonderful."
That was the pattern for the rest of the summer. In the late afternoons and early evenings, I would sit on my patio, reading and Ashley would lie sunning on her patio. We spoke frequently and, to my regret, we developed a pervasive friendship. I would have preferred a different kind of relationship but I felt fortunate to have her as a friend.
Our conversations covered a broad spectrum of topics including sex. We were quite open with each other about our infrequent partners and experiences. I took the opportunity to ask about the ring she was wearing on her left hand.
"Oh, this," she said, turning the ring with the fingers of her right hand. "What makes you ask?"
"Actually, I was wondering if you were married but I've never seen anyone who might be your partner," I confessed.
"I'm not married," Ashley confirmed. "I wear this ring for two reasons. First, I was almost married but he was killed in an accident three weeks before the wedding. Second, the ring provides me some protection when I'm approached by some men with that lecherous look in their eyes."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Don't be," Ashley said. "It was a long time ago. I've been thinking of taking off the ring for a while." She twisted the ring, slid it off her finger and placed it on the table between us. "There," she said.
"Are you sure you wanted me to know that?" I asked.
"That I'm not married?" she asked.
"You never know," I said. "I might be one of those men with that lecherous look in their eyes."
"I've looked into your eyes," Ashley said. "You're safe."
"That stung," I thought.
Throughout the heat of the summer, Ashley's sunbathing outfit morphed from tee shirt and shorts, through one piece bathing suits to two-piece bikinis. The cooler weather of late fall and winter limited our patio lounging but we began to share meals and spent many evenings watching movies.
Spring brought higher temperatures and more patio time. By that time, our friendship was solidly established. We had numerous conversations about personal likes and dislikes, pleasures and woes. We discussed topics rarely shared between friends of either sex and, sometimes even between married couples, without embarrassment or self-consciousness.
By early summer, the temperatures had risen to the point that Ashley was again wearing bikini suits while she basked in the sun. Within a week, she had begun to wear just a string bikini. Our friendship was such that her lack of clothing had no effect on my libido although, with any other woman, I'd have a visible and uncomfortable reaction.
A few days later, Ashley was lying on her stomach in yet another almost not there bikini when she, without looking at me, asked, "Gary, does my sunbathing bother you?"
"Not at all," I responded wondering where she was heading with this conversation. "You're probably my best friend and you know that whatever makes you happy makes me happy as well."
"You know that I love the sun and I'd really like to get a complete tan without any lines or pale spaces. Would you mind if I sunbathed in the nude?"
My heart fluttered and my penis came to attention, all responses inappropriate given the nature of our relationship. "Of course not," I told her. "If sunbathing naked is what you want then I'd be glad to go inside to preserve your modesty and reputation."
Ashley laughed. "Don't be silly," she said. "Our relationship is secure and a little nudity will not have an undesirable effect on it."
"Maybe not our relationship," I quipped.
Ashley laughed again. "I get it. You're a man and any naked woman, even me, is going to have a physical reaction. I think we can deal with it and, given time, the problem with take care of itself."
"You're probably right," I agreed.
"Okay, then. Would you mind coming over here and untying my suit?" Ashley asked.
With weakened legs, I moved over to her patio next to her chaise, bent over and untied the strings of her bikini top and laid the strings alongside her. "My bottoms too," Ashley instructed.
I untied the sides of her suit, placed the strings on the chaise and pulled the middle string from between her cheeks and let it fall between her legs.
"There's suntan lotion on the table next to me," said Ashley. "Could you rub some on me where the strings were?"
I rubbed lotion on her back and her hips where the strings were. "Don't forget the center string," reminded Ashley.
I used one finger to put lotion between her cheeks and returned unsteadily to my own patio and chaise.
"Thanks," said Ashley.
I arranged my chair so I could watch Ashley and wondered what my role might be when she turned over.
My curiosity was settled about a half hour later when Ashley turned over. She removed the rest of her suit and rubbed lotion on the pale places before she lay back on the chaise and closed her eyes.
Her breasts were incredible. They lay on her chest but without spreading out. They remained mounded on her body with her nipples pointing at the sky. She had a small patch of pubic hair that seemed more natural than manicured with dark, curly hair.
I focused on her body for about five minutes before I excused myself and went inside my home to relieve the intense pressure building in my loins.
That afternoon changed Ashley's clothing habits drastically. She began to live at home naked all the time. I got to admire her body most afternoons on the patio. We discussed her penchant to live "au naturel." She maintained that living nude was healthy both physically and emotionally and she encouraged me to try it. We discussed the pros and cons almost every time we were together until, one evening, when Ashley invited me to dinner at her place, she issued an ultimatum. Before we sat at the table, Ashley naked as usual, said, "Drop the duds."
"What?" I questioned.
"Drop the duds," she said. "Get naked or you don't eat."
"You're kidding, right?" I asked.
I'm serious," insisted Ashley. "As serious as an unexpected pregnancy. Get naked."
"Why?" I asked.
"You've seen me naked hundreds of times and you've never taken the hint. I'm tired of waiting, so, get naked and let me see what you've got."
A dozen thoughts went through my mind. Was Ashley's insistence in me getting naked prelude to something else? Maybe sex? On the other hand, me getting naked was guaranteed to produce a potentially embarrassing reaction. "Fuck it," I thought and began to take off my clothes.
I paused when I got to my tented boxer shorts. "I'm waiting," said Ashley.
"I'm concerned that you might misinterpret my intensions toward you," I confessed.
"You mean that your erection might convince me you'd like to fuck me," suggested Ashley.
"You know that's not what I want but my body is betraying me," I pleaded.
"You don't want to fuck me?" asked Ashley.
"That's not what I said," I countered.
"So, you do want to fuck me?" asked Ashley.
"Ashley," I pleaded. "Under any other circumstances the answer would be yes but I value our friendship too much."
"Ahhh," cooed Ashley. "That's so sweet. Now drop the shorts."
I did as she asked. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked.
I looked down at my genitals. "Actually, it's quite hard," I quipped.
Ashley laughed. "Sit down and let's eat," she ordered. "Give it time to normalize where I can't see it."
After dinner, I relaxed and we watched a movie in her living room. After the movie, Ashley gave me a tiny kiss on the cheek and I went home out the back and across both patios, naked and carrying my clothing.
As the summer waned and cooler air became common, life on the patios became uncomfortable and we moved our activities inside. Our relationship became more personal. We touched each other more often and more emotionally. We cuddled on the sofa while watching a movie and, one Saturday night, when the wind was whistling through the trees and the lights were blinking, Ashley curled up tight to me and put my arm around her and on her breast. Our relationship expanded again. Somehow, we were able to share our bodies without the sexual connotations that usually accompanied it.
With all the time we spent together, I never inquired how she earned her income. It just didn't seem important.
We dressed whenever we left our town homes. We went to dinner one or two times a week, fully dressed. On a Thursday in January, we were sharing an oversized Chinese dinner in our favorite Asian restaurant when a woman about Ashley's age approached. "Ash," she said. "I haven't seen you around lately. Where have you been?"
Ashley told her to sit down and introduced us. "Gary," she said. "Meet Lisa." We shook hands and Lisa sat.
For the next forty-five minutes I listened to Lisa and Ashley talk about a dozen topics I never knew Ashley was interested in. Several times, Lisa looked in my direction as if she wanted to include me in the conversation, or more. One comment from Lisa caught my attention. Lisa said, "I haven't caught you live lately."
Ashley quickly changed the subject but the comment stuck with me.
Later, Ashley and I were curled up on her sofa looking for a movie to watch. "Gary," she said. "You've never asked me how I earn money."
"I never thought it was important," I told her. "I just assumed it was something like an inheritance or a trust and I didn't want to pry."
"Well, it's neither of those," said Ashley.
