Consolation

Death brings strange changes to people. My wife and I were very close friends to Danielle and Mike. We would do everything together as two couples. They lived just across the street a few houses over on our block.

Most of the time during the evenings, we would get together for dinnertime. Seemed to be more fun than eating alone and we would alternate cooking. We spent weekends apart, but sometimes did things together like short trips to the lake, or a night out dancing, movies, or whatever. Danielle was sweet and never seemed to have a harsh word for anyone, and Mike was so easygoing that I wondered at times if there was ever anything he said "no" to.

While they were super close friends of the family, nothing sexual of any kind had ever happened and I don't think any of us ever considered anything sexual. I say that because many people might nod and wink and assume that we flirted or teased or whatever, but it just wasn't so. These were friends, almost family-like.

With a suddenness that shocked the entire town, Danielle was struck down by ovarian cancer. As we learned, most cases are diagnosed at advanced stages due to the lack of symptoms. Danielle was diagnosed too late. It is amazing how attached you become to someone and having them suddenly taken from you illustrates the depth of the loss. We felt that things just could never be the same without her around.

Mike took it hard. Who doesn't, when a spouse is lost? I thought I could help him through it by keeping him occupied. People kept saying it was a matter of time. How long was a "matter of time?" For a while, Mike stayed locked up in his house. I don't know how he did it, but I've never lost a spouse before. Wouldn't he want to get out? Get fresh air? Cry in the sun? I asked him all these things, but he just wanted to curl up and die. I felt the same, in a way, her passing was a great loss to both Candi and me.

I tried every trick in the book to get him back out of his house over the ensuing months, but it wasn't until I had given up that he started coming out of his seclusion. I would check on him every couple days, even after I had given up trying to lure him out, and one of those days he finally talked about coming over. It was the start, I guess, of his recovery. Almost two years had passed. I had been worried; Mike owned several firearms, as I did, and I was concerned he might try to follow Danielle.

Fortunately, Mike began coming around again. His easy-going nature was there, just very subdued. His smiles were thoughtful, and sad. But the smiles started coming easier as the months passed. It seemed to take so long, but he finally became part of the family again and could be found at our house all the time. I spent a lot of time with him, and talked to him constantly about life.

One of those days, I came home from work, and my entry into the house was greeted with sobs. I could hear Mike in the kitchen. The grief that poured from his voice was so sharp, even after all this time. I poked my head around the corner and saw him standing there. My wife Candi was hugging him, consoling him, and the tears were streaming down her face, as well. I wasn't sure I should butt in; it looked like she was doing what needed to be done. Mike wouldn't cry around me, much, and he probably needed a shoulder to unload on. I tiptoed away. This day was particularly hard because it was Danielle's birthday.

Over the next few days, though, Mike's spirits appeared to be markedly better. Candi's shoulder and hug had been what he needed. I mentioned that to my wife and she agreed that he was obviously in better spirits. I was a little unsure how to proceed, because although I had given this a lot of thought, I wasn't sure how it would be received. When I considered the improvement in our friend, I decided that the topic was worth talking about even if the idea was rejected.

"Candi, how important is Mike's well-being to you?"

"Very, why?" Her simple answer was typical, but the mind behind it complex. She already knew I had something in mind about helping Mike.

"Your attention the other day and the hug really lifted his spirits." I mentioned the obvious.

She nodded, listening.

"If you were to be even more attentive, he might return to some semblance of normality."

She shrugged. "I'm as attentive as ever. How could I be more? I'm just as concerned as you are about him."

"But you're a woman. He hasn't had the attentions of a woman for a couple of years now. If you were to show him some extra attention, some womanly allure and affection, we would be doing him a service he can't get anywhere else."

"You want me to have sex with him?" she asked incredulously. "Is that it?"

"Well, no..." I shook my head. I hadn't meant that, exactly.

"Then what?" She tilted her head at me.

"I was thinking that you could take him out, alone. Like on dates, you know." I shrugged, sort of at a loss as to how to explain what I was wanting to get across. I wasn't doing a good job of it.

"Dates?" I saw her mind working. I think she was sorting through what I said and trying to find what I meant. Candi was good at that. "Ah..."

"If you were to take him out dancing once a week, or go to a movie, or do a dinner without me, maybe he can let go of wanting to bring back Danielle."

"Yes, I think I see what you mean. You don't want me to romance him..."

"No..." I said. Was I that bad at saying what I meant?

"You want me to show him that he can still enjoy being around other women," she finished.

"Yes." I smiled.

"Good idea," she nodded. "And you'd be alright with us alone at a movie?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "It's Mike. What good are we as friends if we aren't willing to help him? I can see whatever movie you two see some other time."

Candi nodded, deep in thought. "I think that's probably a good idea. As long as you aren't asking me to have sex with him, I think it could work."

Mike came over on Friday a few days after my proposal to Candi. Candi was wearing her little dance dress and greeted him at the door. I pulled Mike aside and claimed I was feeling a little ill, but asked him if he would mind taking Candi dancing.

"Oh, well yeah," he stammered. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

I nodded. "I just have a nasty headache and don't want to make it worse with all the dance music, you know."

He nodded.

"But Candi wants to get out of the house," I motioned to Candi, who was waiting outside. "Take her, would you? And keep her out of trouble for me?"

"Sure thing, bud." He gripped my shoulder and looked me in the eye with concern.

He didn't realize he was the one being helped, but that was how Mike worked. If he didn't think he was helping me out, he would probably have gone back home.

That was how the dating started. Candi did her part without complaint and Mike really began to perk up. We were really doing our part to help him and it felt good. I begged off a few more times and then "admitted" to Mike that I didn't really like to dance and that I would be grateful if he continued to take her.

Candi would tell me everything they did and talked about, so I knew all that they would do. She told me how he hadn't wanted to dance with her the first couple times they went dancing, but she finally told him that there were some creeps who would want to dance with her if Mike didn't and that she would rather dance with him than have to suffer. He fell for that one without argument. Their dance nights became more fun as she began to relate to him and enjoy his company. At first it was something of a chore, but after she got him to respond, it became something she looked forward to. She began talking to him like she had talked to Danielle - naturally. She said that they were becoming as comfortable as they had once been when we were all still together.

My time with her wasn't cut short any, I would take her out on a different night, so I kept Candi happy. Finally, happiness began to return to the two households. After three months of their dating, even Candi started to look happier.

Everyone faces the question of how far one goes to help a friend. We had always lived by the "do unto others" creed. We were willing to go to almost any lengths to help a friend, short of injury to self or finances, in return for the hopes that such a friend would do the same for us. If Mike couldn't count on us as friends, what good were we? And what could we expect from others if we weren't willing to help others? But where does the line get drawn on help? Exactly where?

What I mean is that when you begin to notice something different, what qualifies as too far?

I asked her once before all the little signs if I thought flirting might help or hurt. She seemed very receptive and asked if she should. I told her I didn't see any problem with some minor flirting. Talk is only talk and flirting would boost any guy's ego.

Over the months, I noticed several things by themselves that were really nothing, but together made me uneasy. For instance, Candi and Mike began hugging, friendly-like. She would get cheek-pecks from Mike when he came over during the weekdays. Candi would put her arm through Mike's as they left or returned. They would sit next to each other on the couch when we were at home. She started buying him little gifts for special occasions. He started wearing cologne. Candi bought new clothes to dance in.

These little things began to tally up in my mind, but Candi assured me that everything was still fine. Our sex life was normal, she paid attention to me, we didn't bicker, and she held me at night like she always had. So I was suspicious on one hand, but mollified on the other. I was confused. If she had developed something too far with Mike, I should have been seeing it on my end with bickering, cold shoulders, and her facing away from me at night. None of that happened. By all psychological accounts, she loved me as deeply as ever.

I guess I had assumed that things had to be black or white. My mind works that way. I wasn't allowing that there was a middle ground. How wrong I was got illustrated to me one dance night when I caught her dressing without her knowledge. She was naked and I love watching her dress, so I kept quiet. She sprayed perfume down around her knees and picked up her dress from the chair. It was one of the slinky ones she had been wearing the last several weeks. Without anything else, she slipped the dress over her head and arranged it over her sexy hips. I waited a moment but she picked up a brush and ran it through her hair.

No panties.

I waited still, thinking she would slip them on, but she came out of the bathroom and ran into me.

"Oh, hi," she smiled and kissed me on the lips. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a nice hug.

"No underwear?" I'm sort of blunt, if I can get the words out right.

She looked startled, but looked me in the eye. "No, they're uncomfortable on the dancefloor."

I eyed the hemline of her dress. If she sat down and crossed her legs, the only guy that might miss her lack of panties would be some blind guy in Tibet. "Does Mike know you go without panties?"

She nodded but said nothing.

"Is that wise?" I felt like I was losing control.

"You asked if I would be flirty with him when this all started," she reminded me. "He really likes it when he knows I'm not wearing underwear. It makes him feel special."

"Hmm." I didn't know how to answer that.

She resumed hugging me in that special way. "You don't need to worry, you're not losing me."

She felt what I was thinking. But I was still bothered. Should I have felt less or more bothered? If the idea of his dance partner going without panties perked his spirits, was that so bad? No, I'm sure, but if that dance partner was my wife, did that suddenly make it bad? Yes, I think. That meant he was thinking of her in a sexual way, and that she was going along. But we had talked about flirting, and we had agreed that some minor flirting would be good for him.

What the hell was minor and when did it stop being minor? Was flirting minor when you didn't really mean it? Did it stop being minor when you meant it? Was going pantyless something you meant, or not? I couldn't decide.

Mike picked up Candi a few minutes later and they left for the bar, arm in arm. I watched her slender figure sway under that short black dress knowing she wasn't wearing panties. Supposedly, Mike knew it, too.

I paced for several minutes but found I wasn't going to be satisfied being in the dark. I got in the truck and drove to the bar. Mike's car was there, so they were inside. Chuck's is a big place with a long bar area, a dance floor, live entertainment, and even an old bull machine the owner kept operating. Lights were always kept low enough to hide the spilled beer and dinged-up tables.

I went through the back door and passed several people waiting for the restrooms. I took a spot at the bar and looked out over the dancefloor. They weren't on it; they were just sitting down from the last dance. I drank a beer while I watched them. If they bothered to take a good look in the dim lights, I'm sure they would have seen me, but they didn't have any reason to look. I drank through two beers with nothing more exciting or disturbing than them getting up to dance.

Sure, Candi's dress showed too much leg, but nothing flashed and they danced like normal people. Even the slow dance was nothing I could pick on. Mike held her like he would have if Danielle had been standing there watching. I guess I didn't have anything to worry about. I was going to go over to them, but the bartender interrupted. I ordered a third beer and watched drinks get delivered to their table.

Eh, I'd watch through another beer.

They drank like they'd already had a few rounds. I paid more attention when Mike patted his lap and Candi moved from her chair to sit across his legs. He held her around the waist and gripped his drink in the other hand, which he rested on three miles of bare leg.

Hmm. Is sitting on someone's lap crossing the line? In a crowded public place like this, probably not. Hell, Danielle had sat on my lap a couple times and nothing had ever occurred to me about it. There had been zero sexual thoughts when she had, but I wondered now if Mike had wondered? Was I just trying to find an excuse to end things? Was I trying to unload a friend out of suspiscion? How good a friend was I if I was wrong? What about my obligation as a husband? Why couldn't I get a definite answer to what was on my mind?

Candi scooted around on his lap, and my view was blocked by her back. She leaned her head down to his and they stayed like that for a while. Nothing to see. Nothing to complain about.

They got up for another dance as Candi led him by the hand. They danced close, and his hands wandered down to her hips. She put her arms around his neck and he bent down to kiss her. The kiss was a full-blown tongue kiss and his hands wandered over her back and ass.

If I was seeing this right, this was too far. I think I would have to say the line was drawn, and crossed.

When he ran his hand around her hem and up under it to her hip, I had seen enough. But Candi batted him away with a smile on her face.

Hmm.

They left, though, and that was odd. They usually were out dancing for at least four hours. I followed them a few seconds later and watched them kiss in the parking lot. His hand was up under her skirt, but she batted him away, again.

So was my wife a good girl or not? I was getting agitated.

I followed them back home, but Mike didn't stop in front of our house. He went to his.

Uh oh.

They went inside his house and I watched the lights go on from room to room. When the bedroom light went on, I knew I was in trouble.

I went home and paced. I ranted silently in the air. I wondered if I was mistaken. I tried to remember the love in my wife's hug just two hours ago, and the look of sincerity on her face.

Hell.

Candi came home at the regular time. I had made up my mind to approach this like I knew nothing.

"Hi, hon." I smiled.

"Mmm, hello." She wrapped me in one of those hugs.

I kissed her deeply and she responded immediately back. She sure wasn't acting like she was in trouble, or like any typical cheater. She didn't shy away or beg off for a quick shower.

"I think I should help you out of that dress." I leered at her like a lustful drunk.

She giggled.

I led her to the bedroom and unbuttoned her dress. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and I had to know. I slipped her dress off and ran my hands over her naked body.

"Mmm, did you let Mike touch you?" I rubbed her shoulders and breasts. I'm sure my dropped-bomb question couldn't have been any more shocking.

It took her a while to answer, but she said, "yes."

To say that red flags flew in my mind would be an understatement, but I didn't let it show. Why would she be honest with me? Was I missing something?

She unbuttoned my pants and helped me out of them.

"Did he get to see your pussy?" I rubbed her there gently. She was very wet.

Again, it took her a while to answer. "Yes."

"Did you let him touch it?" I dipped a finger in and she clutched me. Her body shuddered.

"Yes."

"Did you touch him? Stroke him?"

"Yes!" Candi convulsed on my fingers and she pulled me to the bed. I didn't get to ask any more questions until later.

Candi admitted that Mike liked to take her to his house and use a video camera on her. She was vague about how, but it was something he used to do with Danielle.

I wasn't sure how to take some manual play. I knew my line was crossed, but was hers? She had proved beyond any doubt to me that she loved me passionately. Her lust last night was unmistakable. When she had come, she called my name, not his.

"Maybe it's time to stop boosting his ego," I began.

"Oh, Jim, we can't do that to him! He's our friend!"

"I think it's getting a little too sexual to be appropriate." I raised my eyebrows at her.

"But he's a friend. We've supported him through a really tough time. We can't pull the rug from under him now." She looked shocked that I was suggesting hurting him.

"Don't you think fondling is a bit too far?"

"What has it hurt?"

"Huh?" I missed the point there, I guess.

"What has this dating thing hurt? He's back to normal, happy as he used to be and he's still our friend. He hasn't screwed up anything between you and me. Where is the injury? He's your friend, too!"

"Where's the injury? He's been feeling you up. His hand doesn't belong down there, that's where the injury is!"

"Fine, his hand doesn't belong there. How has this hurt our love? I've had a hundred hands down my pants before we married, how do those hands matter?"

"Because they didn't come during our marriage." She was out-arguing me, but I had her on this one point.

"How do you know he's been the only one? How do you know that I haven't had another hundred hands down my pants since we've been married. How has that possibility hurt anything? Doesn't my love for you matter?"

How do women twist this crap?

She continued. "If I wasn't a great friend to him and him to us, I wouldn't have done this dating thing to begin with. I sacrificed my own obligations to go along with your idea, and now you fault me for being successful? What kind of friend would I be if I told him it was all over the first time he kissed me? What's a kiss between friends?"

"But he was kissing you and you're married to me!"

"You were willing to allow him to date me for his sanity and well-being. You even brought up flirting. When you had your first kiss as a kid, did you determine right then that you were getting married forever, or was the kiss just fun? Do you really believe a kiss just blows everything to hell?"

"Well..."