I can't believe that I'm celebrating the 20th anniversary of being Andrea's neighbor. It's not something typically celebrated. It is nice to have a neighbor for a long period of time, but since we've been such close neighbors, a celebration of 20 years of coffee together in the morning is so fitting and so precisely correct for us.
It was that long ago that Andrea moved next door to us with her husband Paul and their daughter. It was perfect since their daughter was the same age as our daughter and they would be going to school together. They would be in the same class and ride the same bus to school. Having next-door neighbors ride the bus was extra convenient since it guaranteed that the bus would stop at the end of our driveway, making the trip to the bus stop as short as possible. Gathering at the bus stop each morning provided the opportunity to get to know Andrea a few minutes at a time.
Since I am a real estate agent, my schedule is generally pretty flexible in the morning. I could leisurely hang out at the bus stop after getting the kids ready, taking a cup of coffee out to the curbside. Andrea has the same flexibility; she is a local attorney, working in the family office doing fairly easy work. Some property transactions, wills, simple contracts, etc. were her main business items. Very little is ever so pressing that it kept her from having a similarly leisurely morning. While time has passed and our children are grown, we've continued to have the ease of no time pressures on most days.
So, it was over those morning chats 20 years ago that we got to know each other. As the school year started, we would all gather on the curb. Our daughters talked and quickly becoming friends, Andrea and I sipping our coffee and similarly building a friendship. We talked about the other neighbors, cooking dinner, occasionally there would be a work topic and we would share complaints about some other real estate agent or attorney involved in property transactions. Nothing like a little professional gossip over morning coffee with the chance to complain about those crazies that we dealt with every day.
In the middle of the second week of school, all the parents received an invitation to an "end of summer, get to know the other parents" dance at school. While the school thought they were doing us all a favor by giving us an evening out from the kids, I actually believed the real purpose of the evening was to give all the high school kids a baby-sitting assignment. There were usually enough good babysitters to go around, but on the nights when everyone needed somebody, most had to go to their second or third choices if they didn't call quickly enough. The day after we received the invitation, I commented to Andrea that I'd need to find a dress for the evening but that I'd been quick enough to line up my favorite babysitter as soon as I saw the announcement.
As we were talking about the dance, our daughters asked if they could have a sleep-over sometime soon. Andrea and I immediately agreed to that idea, proposing the Saturday evening of the big dance. Andrea's concern about finding a babysitter on this side of town was immediately addressed. In return for sharing my babysitter, she offered to share one of her dresses. She told me that she had too many dresses for events like this and couldn't wear them all to this dance.
I'd never done more that take a quick glance at Andrea's body as the attractive women moving in next door. As she suggested sharing a dress, I took another look, thinking about imagining how our bodies compared to gauge if I could wear one of her dresses. As I looked at her body, I was suddenly struck by her breasts, something that had never happened as we had spoken on any previous day. She wasn't wearing a bra. I'd never noticed that she would be bra-less at our morning bus stop gatherings, but this day, I saw that. I didn't know if it was just that this was the first time I'd noticed or if she generally was dressed that way. As I thought about it, I just assumed that she had gotten dressed a little more quickly than usual in needing to get her daughter ready for school. I also wondered what kind of pervert I had become, noticing that another woman wasn't wearing a bra.
But, more importantly, it did give me a good look at her chest and upper body. Her body was similarly sized to mine, so borrowing a dress just might work. All I'd need to navigate was the potential that our taste in dresses was so different that I'd have to decline the offer and be embarrassed to tell her I didn't like any of her dresses.
I couldn't stop focusing on her bra-less chest. Once I had it in my mind, it was all I could think about as we talked. Did she do that on purpose? Why would she do that, I'd never looked at her chest before so why was she showing it off to me. Was she showing it off to me? I'd never been attracted to women. I had no such experience in my entire life and her I was, fixated on another woman's body.
Luckily, the bus came and loading up the kids changed my focus. No longer was I worried about Andrea, I was worried about my daughter leaving her lunch on the curb. They climbed aboard the bus. The driver gave his usual morning greetings to us as we reminded him to drive carefully, as if the thought had never occurred to him before that moment. As he did every morning, he assured us that he would be careful and wished us a good day. Amid the usual shouts of see you soon, the bus doors closed and the kids headed off to school, leaving Andrea and I standing along at the curb. With a smile, she turned to me and said that she would make a fresh pot of coffee for us to enjoy as I went dress shopping in her closet. I told her that I would be right over.
I went into my house for a moment to clear my head. I also hoped that she would use the time before I went over to put on a bra so that I wouldn't be tempted to embarrass myself by staring at her breasts. I couldn't imagine what I was doing, looking at her like a teenage boy who had never seen a woman's breasts before. I most certainly knew what my own looked like and I'd seen many women topless in the locker room at the fitness center. But, as I thought about going and sitting with Andrea having coffee and then looking at her dresses, I didn't need to look at her that way.
I walked over to her house and knocked on the outer screen door. I heard her yell for me to come in, that she was in the kitchen still working on making the coffee. I went in through the living room and into the kitchen. I had to suppress a gasp when I looked at Andrea. Not only had she not put on a bra under her shirt, she had taken off the warm-up suit jacket she had been wearing. Her bra-less look was now more pronounced. Her sleeveless t-shirt was not so thin that her breasts were fully visible, but the thin fabric showed off her chest quite well. The outlines of nipples showed somewhat as the nipple tips pressed against the fabric. I had felt like a young boy staring before and now I was wondering how I could keep from looking like a horny teenager getting his first eyeful.
Andrea was very nonchalant about how she was exposing herself to me. I tried not to look, but she was giving me an eyeful. I'd never felt that familiar stirring of arousal due to another woman before, but I was feeling a bit of a tinge that morning. As she finished making the coffee and turned to me again, she walked to me and put her hand on my arm. She thanked me for coming over and making her feel so welcome in the neighborhood. She told me how good it made her feel that I would consider borrowing a dress, just having a neighbor and friend come over was great. She told me that I didn't need to worry about liking the dresses, her feelings wouldn't be hurt if I didn't want to get into her clothes. All I could think of was that expression. For some reason, I was feeling something that I'd never felt. I wanted to get into the clothes she was wearing, not even considering what was in her closet. My mind was so confused. I was happily married. Happily satisfied with my sex life...a life filled by my husband. A man. Not a woman.
I thought to myself; focus on the coffee, the conversation, not her breasts. Of course, the more I thought of not looking at her breasts, the more I looked. She poured us both coffees. She told me that she liked her coffee creamy and asked how I liked mine. What a question. There wasn't an easy answer. All I could tell her was that yes that sounded good to me also.