When we first moved into our apartment I wasn't sure if picking one that was directly overlooking the pool was a great idea. We were concerned about the noise, but it was all they had available and we were desperate to move from our old complex. So we took it. That was in February. For several months it was pretty quiet, then around June the pool opened.
As typical with most apartment complexes we had hardly met anyone aside from coming and going, and it was always a simple, "Hello, how are you doing?" Sort of obligatory conversations. We never met the people above, below or across from us. With the pool open we now had a place to possibly meet some of the neighbors. My wife and I are both in our 40s, no children and both work. We both make a long commute to get to Jenkinsville, the nearest major city, and don't get home till early evening. We were hoping to meet a similar couple.
I am in pretty good shape: one of those lucky people that can eat all they want and not gain a lot of weight; and my wife is not. She is on the verge of fat. A few months ago she was heavy, but now she is heading into that area where it is uncomfortable for her to wear shorts, a revealing bathing suit, and most lingerie. Needless to say our sex life has become almost nonexistent. I love her dearly, but her weight bothers me.
One Saturday we were both decided to try the pool. At first there were only young teen kids -- but then the mommies showed up.
There were mommies of all ages and all colors showing up with very small children. They'd plop them in the pool and then lie in the sun to work on their tans. Some of the mommies were gorgeous. Over the next few weekends we became semi chummy with a few of them. One in particular was Molly.
Molly had just gone through a divorce and had both children living with her. She was just a few years younger then us, but had the body of a much younger woman. She had a Michele Phieffer look about her. Not a knockout -- but incredibly sexy. My wife and Molly became quite good friends, and several times a week my wife would go down to the pool before dinner and hang out with her. Molly worked evenings, we found out later, and her days were spent at the pool with her children since she had little money to do anything else. I usually stayed in the apartment and wrote stories and articles: I was trying to land a writing position for a magazine. I had been writing for years and a friend got me an interview with the magazine. They wanted to see some examples of possible articles I could come up with. A month later I got the position, and my commute to the city ended.
Wanting me to truly enjoy my freedom and concentrate on my writing, my wife bought me a laptop. Soon I was working on my tan -- and getting paid for it. Molly was also at the pool and often times she would sit with me while I worked on articles.
"Let me finish this last bit and then I can give you my undivided attention," I said to her one Tuesday. I wasn't purposely flirting with Molly but what I said was definitely something she could either ignore or play up. She decided to play it up.
"I like the sound of that," I looked up from the screen. She was wearing a big straw hat and sipping on a can of iced tea through a skinny red straw, looking like one of those sexy girls in a commercial. She was wearing baggy shorts and a tight T-shirt, but she looked absolutely enticing. I tried not to stop typing so abruptly, or stare at her, but I couldn't help it. "It has been a long time since any man has given me any attention. Your wife is lucky"
I tried to cough, mainly to stall since I didn't know what to say. But choked. I then tried to recover, but didn't think enough what I was about to say -- or how it would sound. "I find that hard to believe -- you are stunning!" Seeing the expression or her face change I tried to stop talking, knowing it was getting a bit real with Molly. So naturally I blurted out, "She isn't so lucky -- I haven't been overly attentive to her for a while." What the hell did I just say!? I can't believe I am so stupid. She is going to think I'm hitting on her. I just --
"That is what I miss the most. Sex."
My first instinct was to close the laptop. But I started typing again. And tried to sound matter of fact. Just two adults having a conversation. "He probably misses it more than you do." Oh shit! I'm getting myself in trouble here. She is my wife's friend. Behave, John.
"Not really, he was having an affair with another man."
"Are you serious?" I asked, almost incredulously, "What is wrong with him? You are amazing!"
"Why thank you. I like you too." She sipped her tea and looked to make sure her kids were still upright in their blowup rings. Then she looked back at me. No one was anywhere within earshot. "If I wasn't so fond of your wife I'd invite you over." She quickly looked away. "I can't believe I said that."
"It is ok. If I wasn't so ... afraid ... I'd ... show up."
