Janet is an aspiring author in her late twenties. She received a bachelor's in English Literature with a desire to write fiction, but school loans made it necessary to get a job right out of college. Writing and working a day job is tough, so it took her six years to get her first draft even close to finished. Even then, it wasn't ready to submit to agents, let alone publish. My wife and Janet became fast friends online talking over feminism, writing, and politics. After my wife provided some writing guidance—what you can do online (and free)—Janet decided to sign up for an intensive writing course in our area. This was her pilgrimage to find herself, and the words she so desperately wanted to write. The idea was to take the course during the day and work with my wife in the evenings. She asked if she could stay at our place while she took the course. My wife, always eager to help a fellow writer, agreed. Three weeks later, Janet arrived at our apartment with the goal of polishing up her manuscript.
Her flight came in from Cleveland to LAX on Friday. We had the weekend to settle her into her room before classes on Monday. My wife thought the two might talk over her manuscript some ahead of time, but this was Janet's first trip to sunny Southern California, so the beach was more important.
We have a small two-bedroom apartment with one bathroom, about five minutes from the beach. The sleeping area consists of two bedrooms and the bathroom. It is behind the kitchen with a door separating the kitchen and living room from the back area. The bedroom to the right is smaller and doesn't have a door, but it's the one my wife and I chose when we setup the flat. We don't need the privacy, but when we have guests we thought they might enjoy having a door. My wife put up a curtain over our door way to give us some privacy, since we both sleep in the nude—no reason to cause our guests anxiety in catching an awkward glimpse. Since the second bedroom is larger and has a bigger closet, we store clothes we don't wear often (winter coats and evening wear) in that room, but mostly my wife uses it as an office when we don't have guests.
It was too late to go the beach on Friday. So, once Janet was settled in her room, we headed for the pool. Our apartment complex has a pool with a hot tub. It doesn't get overwhelmingly hot along the coast in Southern California, but hot enough that the pool is a welcome break from the day. It also serves to remove the kinks from four hours on a plane.
Janet is slender, not athletic, but definitely on the cuter side the curve. Her medium length dark hair is wavy, adding spunk to her bubbly personality. She wore a bright yellow bikini which make her pale skin seem to glow and her dark hair really stand out. Often, writers can be reclusive, but Janet seemed to be open and airy about everything. This was a big adventure for her and she intended to make the most of it.
Back at the apartment I told Janet, "We have a drying rack out on our deck for our suits so they're dry and ready for use the next day. You can change in the bathroom. Just bring out your suit to me when you're done."
Janet stepped into the bathroom and I stepped out onto the deck, dropped my swim trunks and wrapped a towel around me for decency. My wife stepped into our bedroom to change. Janet was first out wearing soft cotton pajamas in place of her bikini. The pajama hung on Janet's slender figure with plenty of comfort room. She held her swim suit in her hands, but hesitated for a moment seeing me wrapped in a towel. "Did you just change out here?" she asked as she handed me her bikini top and bottom.
"Yes, sorry, we are clothing optional most of the time. I don't mean to offend you, so if you're uncomfortable, I can always wait for the bathroom to change."
"No, it's ok," she said with an air of uncertainty. "I just, well, you do have neighbors."
"Yes, but we're on the third floor and the deck wall hides me pretty well."
She shrugged her shoulders and headed back to the living room to sit.
Once everyone was changed, we sat around talking about writing—or I should say Janet and my wife talked about writing. I sat there and listened. They didn't talk about Janet's manuscript; she still wasn't ready for that, but they did talk about what Janet hoped to get out of the course. Janet wants her writing to be more literary in focus, along the lines of Chaucer or Cervantes. Not being anything close to that level, I kept my mouth shut.
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The next day Janet and my wife went to the beach. I had some work to finish, so I let them enjoy the day together. As if the ocean wasn't enough water for them, as soon as they got home we headed for the pool. I ordered some Chinese food through Grub Hub because they deliver pool side. Afterwards, my wife wanted to take a shower when we got back to the flat to rinse the salt water out of hair. She offered the bathroom to Janet first. "Janet, go change. I'm going to take a shower, so I'm going to be a while. No need for you to sit around in your wet swim suit waiting for me."
"No, that's ok. Go ahead." Janet smiles back. "I'm in no hurry. Besides, taking a shower sounds like a good idea. I'll take one when you're done."
My wife steps into the bathroom and starts the shower running. Without thinking about it, I step out onto the deck and drop my trunks to hang them on the rack. I grab a towel and turn to wrap it around my waist when I see Janet standing at the door way, eyes staring at me in shock. I quickly cover myself and stammer, "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."
"Oh, no," she stammers. "You mentioned the clothing optional part yesterday, I just didn't. Sorry!" She turned around blushing from head to toe, both front and back. She disappeared into her room and came out moments later wrapped in a towel to hand me her suit.
She sat down on the sofa and I occupied a chair across from her. The conversation was our first chance to get to know each other. Since Janet and my wife knew each other online, all the conversations so far have been about writing. This was the first time Janet and I actual asked questions about each other.
Janet told me about her string of three boyfriends after graduating from university. None of them could see her as a writer. They weren't willing to support the occasional up in the middle of the night writing urges, or freakish writing ideas down on a napkin at a restaurant when the muse strikes. As a result, she hadn't found the right one, "but that's ok. I'm ok being a single writer for now."
My wife likes long hot showers, so our conversation lasted a while. Initially, Janet was slightly uncomfortable only wrapped in a towel, sitting talking with a stranger. She kept her knees together, feet on the floor and both arms wrapped around her. The more she talked, the more she relaxed, until she had one leg hitched up on the sofa and her arms casually around her waist. This kept her towel in place, but it did offer a good glimpse up the inside of one trim thigh.
When the bathroom was available, Janet took her shower and I joined my wife in the bedroom to put on pajamas. We don't sleep in them, but do have them around to stay covered up when guests are around.
Again, post Janet's show, my wife and Janet talked about writing. I did my best to stay awake and look interested.
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Sunday was a day of shopping. There are shops in Cleveland, but not like we have in Southern California. When the ladies returned it was back to the pool. This time I opted for the first shower upon our return. When I came out, Janet and my wife were talking in much the same manner Janet and I had the previous night, both women wrapped in towels. We keep the windows up pretty much year round. The cool breeze in the summer evenings is nice. The towels were just enough to keep them from getting cold. Still, it surprised us Janet was comfortable sitting around in just a towel.
When we retired for the evening my wife commented, "Janet isn't as shy as she appears online."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"When you stepped into the shower, she had no problems dropping her suit right there in front of me."
"Lucky you," I chided. "She has been more circumspect with me."
"I wondered about yesterday," she snorted as she climbed into bed. "She was only wearing a towel when I came out of the bathroom yesterday."
"She changed in her bedroom, just so you know."
"Ok." And we left it at that.
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The first week was a struggle for Janet. I would head off to work at seven. My wife would take her to the university for her classes around nine and then pick her up again at five. Janet spent all day working with a small group honing their manuscripts and discussing writing techniques. On Wednesday and Friday my wife has clients in the evening, so it fell to me to pick Janet up from class. Regardless of how we got home, most evenings we would have some dinner and then Janet would retire to her room to do homework. She moaned a couple of times about wanting to go to the pool, but way too much work to do.
Come Friday, I cooked dinner. Janet and I ate in relative silence. The class was already beginning to wear on her. Without my wife to maintain lively dialog, we just sat and ate. When I got up from the table to clear dishes, I expect Janet to go to her room. Instead, she turned and asked, "Could we go to the pool? I have homework, but I'm exhausted and could use the break."
"Sure," I said putting dishes in the dishwasher. "You're welcome to enjoy the pool anytime whether my wife and I join you or not."
"Thanks, but would you be up for a swim, or at least a soak in the hot tub? I don't want to go alone."
"Always. Go get your swimsuit on and we'll go."
Janet jumped out of her chair with more energy than I'd seen from her all week. She grabbed her suit off the drying rack on the deck, and disappeared into her room. I finished loading the dishwasher, then stepped out on the deck to get my suit.
I threw my clothes over a chair on the deck and grabbed my suit. I hadn't yet put it on when I turned around to see Janet standing there in the doorway to the deck. More wide eyes glaring at me. "Sorry, Janet, I'm just not used to having house guests."
She didn't turn around, but she did blush as she watched me put on my suit.
I wrote a quick note to my wife to let her know we were at the pool.
An hour later, just as Janet finished swimming laps, my wife showed up with a bottle of wine and three plastic glasses. We journeyed to the hot tub to finish the wine, then returned to the apartment.
