"I think she's cute," Suzy whispered as the three of us discreetly peeked through the blinds to watch the couple carrying the dresser from the van into the house across the street.
"Mmmm, I don't know," Linda mused. She wrinkled her nose and frowned a little, watching the middle aged redhead sit on the step to rest. "Look how she is dressed. Very conservatively. And how she is sitting. Legs together, crossed at the ankles, arms tight against her sides."
They both had good points; she WAS cute, what with her curly red hair, a smile that seemed to come easily, and a perky little spring in her step but what could potentially be quite a voluptuous figure was sadly hidden beneath loose and somewhat unflattering clothing that revealed little skin, even with the warm spring weather. And she did seem a little unsure of herself, fidgeting and pulling at her clothing, like someone uncomfortable in her own skin. I could feel the two women flanking me watching my face, waiting for my judgment.
"Well, perhaps this only means she needs us even more. I mean, think of how free she will feel once she is comfortable with her own sexuality and can see herself as not only a wife but as a sexual creature." We all turned our attention back to the people across the street, just in time to see her husband lean in to kiss her; she turned her face so that his lips touched her cheek. "Although, I definitely think we will need to move slowly on this one lest we scare her off."
There was a murmur of agreement on this issue and we silently watched them for a moment longer, our heads close together, lost in our own thoughts, each of us remembering when we were new to the neighbourhood and how grateful we were that someone had deemed us suitable for introduction into the secret little society that our husbands knew nothing about.
It had been a good eight or nine years earlier that I'd first moved onto Alder Street, married barely two years to a man who didn't want me to work and who could afford to keep me perfectly manicured in a house that was tended to by a maid. This had been so far removed from the single life I'd led as a self-sufficient working girl, cleaning my own cat litter and having a very active social life on Friday and Saturday nights. I remembered being torn between enjoying the pampering of such a wealthy lifestyle and being incredibly bored and restless. Within a month I'd been thoroughly welcomed into the community of housewives and had been introduced to the solution to the common plight of boredom, and had been delighted to find the common thread that drew us all together, despite individual differences. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter so much that our husbands worked such long hours or that the children were so busy with their activities that they barely noticed us unless they were wanting money or a ride somewhere. We had our own source of pleasure, a way to keep the excitement alive.
I had been the newcomer then, but now was the senior member of the group. Anna, Jo, Megan, Tera...all gone now, their husbands transferred or promoted out of country or relocated for the sake of being closer to family. It was with fondness I often thought of them, little flashes of good memories crossing my minds, tingling through my body, motivating my fingers to slide down my breasts and stomach, lingering between my legs. We had said we'd keep in touch as we exchanged teary goodbyes and hugs that were closer and lasted longer than ordinarily would be called for. Good intentions fade with time, as do friendships, and everything it had been was all summed up now in a yearly Christmas card in the mail.
