At thirty-six years old I was a blonde haired, brown eyed, married mother of two children with a 36D-24-38 figure and five foot seven inches tall. My husband and I had agreed to an open relationship with the understanding that we would discuss our outside encounters with each other in detail. I willingly broke this rule, and have until now, never spoken of it or shared it with anyone.
During this time a couple who were friends of ours were going through an extremely difficult journey. My friend Kelly was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor, she and her husband Clff, along with their children were devastated as were their families and friends.
Kelly passed away only a few months after her diagnosis, leaving Cliff and her children in shock from losing her. Family and friends gathered and did our best for the children, my husband stayed close by Cliff as did his family and other friends.
One afternoon I had fixed dinner for Cliff and the children and took it to the house, but wasn't aware that the children were spending a few days with their grandparents so that Cliff could try and get some much needed rest and a little time for himself.
When I knocked on the door, Cliff answered inviting me in and helping with the food I brought, telling me about the children and that he'd put up the meal for when they returned home. He had been sitting at the table with a bottle of bourbon and a stack of papers he was trying to get in order, insurance policies, bills, and other things that needed to be taken care of, but explained that he just couldn't concentrate on what he was doing, hoping a drink or two would calm him down.
Cliff is a nice looking man with dark curly hair, brown eyes, about my height, but a little heavy, his smile and personality is what draws people to him, and in all the years we've known each other, I've never seen him close to tipsy, let alone drunk. On this day he was tipsy and well on his way to being drunk.