Passion in James County XII
The Widow
By D.C. Roi
Chapter two
Joanne lay in bed and, instead of falling asleep, kept thinking about the erotic tale Fran had told her. And the more she recalled her friend's graphic description of her affair with her handsome neighbor, the more it aroused her. "If I keep this up," she thought, more than a little upset with herself, "I'll never get to sleep." She wondered if taking a bath might help relax her, so she got up, put on a robe, and went to the bathroom. Instead of a shower she decided to enjoy a long hot soak in the tub. She found some bubble bath solution in the bathroom cabinet, poured some into the tub, and ran hot water on top of it. After the sudsy water was deep enough, she lowered herself into the tub, submerging her body in the warm, rich sudsy water. She laid back and closed her eyes as warmth began filling her.
Joanne quickly discovered that the bubble bath wasn't having the effect she'd hoped it would. Even as she lay in the warm water, she couldn't get Fran's story out of her thoughts. A picture of Fran and Greg making love formed in her mind. She could see Greg's hands moving over Fran's body. Actually, she could almost feel the way it felt when he touched her friend. She visualized his erection, poised and ready to spear into her friend's petite body and felt her heart rate increasing, not calming.
Her wild daydream continued. Now she could see Fran, writhing in passion, while Greg drove his erection into her. Shaken by the train of thought she couldn't shake, she tried to make the lewd images stop, but try as she would, she couldn't. And even more frustrating was the fact that the voyeuristic thoughts were turning her on!
"I don't believe this!" she thought, "Of all times to get turned on!"
At last, afraid she'd wrinkle from being submerged in the water too long, Joanne climbed out of the tub and dried herself off. She went back to her bedroom, donned a pair of plaid cotton flannel pajamas, and slipped back into bed and tried to go to sleep, but she couldn't. She was even more turned on than she'd been before she took her bath. Every time she closed her eyes, the images of Greg and Fran making love returned.
She turned on the light, sat up, and took a magazine off the table next to the bed and tried to read but she couldn't concentrate. Instead of the story she was trying to read, that darn movie projector in her mind continued to run pictures of Greg and Fran making passionate love. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, images of her making love with her late husband began to play, too. Until he'd gotten sick, they'd enjoyed a very active and varied love life, and she missed the satisfaction he gave her terribly. She'd had a number of opportunities for sex after Ernie died, but she couldn't bring herself to go to bed with anyone else. Not yet, anyhow.
There was a soft knock at the door and Joanne jumped.
"Joanne, are you still up?" Fran's asked, her voice soft.
Joanne sat up and said, "Ah...yes, I am."
Fran opened the door and walked across the room. She was wearing a long, sheer, pale blue robe. "I couldn't sleep either," she said.
As she watched Fran approach her bed, Joanne once again realized how strikingly beautiful her friend was. Fran's hair, earlier styled perfectly, was mussed, meaning, Joanne thought, that Fran must have been tossing and turning and unable to sleep, too.
"I wonder if telling me that story about her night with Greg caused her the same problems it caused me?" Joanne mused. "It would serve her right if it did."
"Are you OK, Joanne?" Fran asked softly. "You look, I don't know, upset."
"I...I guess so," Joanne said, "I...I'm just having a hard time getting to sleep tonight. I..." For reasons she didn't quite understand, her eyes began to fill with tears.
"I hope what I told you about Greg and me earlier hasn't upset you," Fran said. She sat down on the bed. "I know how much you've been through and how much you miss Ernie." Her voice was so loving, so full of concern that Joanne burst into sobs.
"Hey, now..." Fran whispered. She put her arms around her crying friend.
Joanne moved into her friend's comforting embrace, and sobbed out her sorrow on Fran's shoulder.
"Go ahead, honey, let it out," Fran said softly. "If anyone has the right to a good cry, you do." She began to rub her friend's back.
Joanne found Fran's touch calming, but at the same time she also found it faintly disquieting. The sexual tension that, in part, had caused her tears, felt is if it was growing. Could she be so desperate for loving that her friend's touch, the touch of another woman, was arousing her?
Joanne moved a little and, when she did, she brushed her elbow against Fran's breast. Her movement caused her to feel her friend's erect nipple, tingles raced up her arm, and she felt goose bumps beginning to rise on her skin. She was confused by what she was feeling. Were Fran's nipples hard? Was her friend turned on, too? If so, what...? Bewilderment and apprehension began to overwhelm her. "Ah...Fran..." she murmured. She leaned back in her friend's arms and looked at her.
"What?" Fran asked, looking directly at her.
"I...ah...I...I don't know what to say," Joanne stammered. "Something...there's..." She couldn't continue.
"Let me make a guess," Fran said softly, "I'll bet you were lying in here, thinking about that story I told you about Greg and me making love, weren't you?"
Joanne nodded, avoiding eye contact with her friend.
"And you probably got turned on a little, didn't you?" Fran continued.
Joanne nodded again. "More...more than a little, really," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "It...it made me...ah...remember what...what it was like when...when Ernie was alive...and..."
