Sometimes it Does - Chapter 1
[Authors Note: This will be a three chapter story.]
As I lay next to the woman of my dreams, our bodies entwined as they had been every night for all these years, I cannot help but think of the journey that got us here: how I came to love her; how I watched her from afar; how I finally go the courage to pursue her; how I finally won her heart and all the joy we have shared since then up to and including this very moment. At so many points along the way, a rational person would have told me I was crazy, that I had no chance or that I should not even try. But from the first moment I realized I was actually in love with her (not some silly crush, but totally completely, wanting to spend the rest of my life with her, in love with her) I knew I had to have the courage of my conviction and find a way to make the dream a reality. True, most of the time something that seemed so crazy at the time does not work out. But sometimes it does.
My name is Rosemary Hannigan. I have been friends with Cynthia Porter for as long as I can remember. I know we were in kindergarten together because I have the picture to prove it. I actually have two of those pictures but we'll get to that. I was one of seven children in my family. Both of my parents worked very hard and the house was always a bit chaotic. One less child was never really missed and I ended up spending most of my time at Cynthia's house.
I have a lot of memories of the times I was at that house as a child, although not all of the memories were good. Cynthia's parents fought a lot. My parents never fought, at least not that I ever saw or heard. I do not know if it was because they just loved each other more or maybe with their jobs and seven kids, they were just too tired to fight. Maybe if I had been there more, maybe I would have heard something. All I know is I never did.
At Cynthia's house I almost always heard it. It was not usually loud, but the parents were always sniping at each other. Cynthia always said it got louder when I was not there. In fact, she always wanted me to stay as much as I could because her parents seemed to take it down a notch if I was there. So, I was there a lot.
Sometime in the summer between fifth and sixth grade, everything changed. Cynthia's father left the house. Soon afterwards, Cynthia told me that her parents were getting divorced. Mrs. Porter (Elizabeth) had to go back to work. I do not know exactly what she did, but she always came back to her home dressed very professionally.
I watched over the years as she came home after working all day. Sometimes, depending on where I was sitting, I could see her get out of her car and walk to the front door. She would come up to her house looking as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders, dragging her down. But the minute she came through the door and saw Cynthia and I, her radiant smile was there. She was asking us about our day and always seemed happy and bright. I came to realize she was doing this for Cynthia's sake (and to some extent, mine). She did not want Cynthia to worry or to know how hard things were.
I know my mom had it hard as well. After all, she was coming home to seven children not one. But my mother also had my father and she had my older brothers and sisters. Everyone always pitched in to help with dinner and cleaning the house. It was less she had to worry about when she got home.
As we got older, I started talking Cynthia into helping out around her house. She and I would clean rooms or do laundry and when Elizabeth came home and saw that she did not have to do these things, she was very appreciative. I learned to tell the difference between the smile she put on for Cynthia's sake and the one when she was truly happy. I loved seeing the latter.
It was this strength of character and selflessness that she showed which led me to admire and respect her. I thought she was the strongest person I knew with the possible exception of my parents. But then came a different aspect of how I felt about her that I did not have for my parents.
In the summer before our junior year in high school, Cynthia really started to fill out. She was always very pretty. Five foot five inches tall with long blonde hair that was almost always in a ponytail. She had beautiful blue eyes set in a round and adorable face. Her breasts were a 34-C. I looked at her bra once while she was in her bathroom showering.
We had changed in front of each other, but it was just friends seeing each other naked. I never had any kind of lust or desire for her.
I was more the ugly duckling to her swan. Five foot six inches tall, I was skinny and had very little curve in my torso. My auburn hair was straight and went down past my shoulder blades. I always had it loose.
Although Cynthia had her suitors, she never had a boyfriend. I do not know if it was because of the issues with her dad, but she was just never interested in any of the boys in our school. Usually when a boy was making a play for her, his friend would come along trying to run interference on me and allow his friend a solo chance to hit on Cynthia. When they finally gave up on Cynthia, that ended anything I had going as well. Those never meant much to me and I was never upset when they ended. I figured I'd find a guy at some point just like my mom did.
Much of Cynthia's senior year was spent looking at colleges. All of Elizabeth's hard work had also meant that she had some money put aside so that Cynthia would be able to go to the school she wanted without having to think too much about cost. Elizabeth could not have afforded Brown or Harvard, but Cynthia was not going to get into those schools anyway.
Elizabeth and Cynthia went away for a weekend here and there to look at various campuses. Ultimately, she did get into the private college that had a great business program and very good academics all around. My grades were not bad, but tuition was a non-starter for any four-year school. I signed up for the local community college. It was just a fact of life that Cynthia and I were finally going to be separated.
During the summer after graduation, Cynthia and I (now 18) did the adult thing and got part-time jobs. Most of the days we worked, our shifts would be in the evening so we had all day just to hang out together. Knowing that Cynthia was leaving at the end of August made it more important for us to spend as much time as possible together.
Cynthia's house had a fenced-in back yard. One day Cynthia and I were out back sunning ourselves in our skimpiest bathing suits, trying to get as much of an all over tan as we dared. It was a Tuesday at around 2:30 and we did not have work that night so we had plenty of time to soak up the sun. We were very surprised when Elizabeth came home and said hello to us in the back yard. Apparently, there had been a bad accident near her office and it had knocked down a utility pole and cut power for several blocks in town. No computers and no air conditioning meant that the office closed down early and everyone just got the rest of the afternoon free.
After talking with us for a bit, she left saying she was going to change and bring out some lemonade. Cynthia and I continued talking until I eventually heard, "Who wants a drink?" I turned to look over and my world stopped.
Cynthia was a very attractive girl. And while I had noticed it, I never felt an attraction to her. I certainly had noticed that Cynthia looked a lot like her mother Elizabeth, but until that moment I had not thought much about that fact either. However, as much as they looked alike, Cynthia was still a young girl. Elizabeth was a woman.
Elizabeth's long blonde hair was loose and framed her equally adorable face. Her eyes were just as sparkling blue and her smile was so warm as it always was. However, I guess I had just expected her to change into a light blouse and skirt instead of her more formal work attire. However, deciding she would join us, Elizabeth was in a very skimpy bikini of her own. It was a shimmering silver color and it was a vision that I can still see clearly in my mind to this day.
Elizabeth is five foot seven, so just a little taller than me. But as I was laying on a chaise, she was towering over me carrying out a lemonade pitcher and some tumblers on a tray. Her breasts were much larger and much fuller than Cynthia's. If Cynthia was a 34-C, Elizbeth must be a 38-D (actually a 38-DD but I don't want to get too far ahead of myself). The bikini top was doing its best to hold them in, but I could see the tops of her breasts and a lot of cleavage as she leaned down to put the tray on a table. Plus, there was also a lot of underboob showing as the top of the bikini was small.
Elizabeth's stomach was just as flat as Cynthia's and mine, but she was thirty-eight not seventeen. Her bikini bottoms were covering her privates but not by much. It was held up by ties on either of her hips. Those hips flared out from her thin waist giving her amazing curves. Knowing how straight my body ran from shoulder to hip, seeing her curves was incredible. There was only one word for it, "arousing."
