Susan Grayson is my wife's best friend. They have known each other since college, and although markedly different in temperament, somehow, they formed a solid bond. The easiest way to describe Susan is a modern-day hippie, and with her approach to life, she would have fit in quite well in the 60s. Although she uses very little cosmetics and eschews the primping most women crave, she is still quite attractive as her natural beauty and outgoing personality more than makes up for it. She is a slender 5'8" with shoulder-length sandy hair, long legs, a fair complexion, smallish breasts, and a quirky but enticing smile.
Contrary to her friend, my wife Cary puts great effort into her appearance and always tries to look stylish. Also, she loves pampering and has a routine that includes a strict schedule around visits to her hairstylist and the nail salon. She is an inch shorter than Susan but is equally slender with raven hair that she wears just past her shoulders. Her complexion is darker and she has C-cup breasts that sit high on her chest crowned with tiny nipples.
One of the things I find interesting is that, although they differ in appearance, the similarity in their frames and the easy-going way they act around each other often lead people to believe they are sisters. Fortunately, after college, they ended up in the same city where Susan teaches elementary education while my wife works in real estate. They see each other at least once a week even if it's just for a coffee, but often it will include wine followed by a visit to our place, so I get to see her quite a bit, too.
Cary and I have been married for two years after dating for just fourteen months. We met shortly after she moved to the city and fell in love quickly. At twenty-six, I'm a year older than her and I think part of what attracted her to me was the frequent social gatherings I attended as a requirement of my job in the financial industry. Often, she would accompany me, and since she is ambitious, she liked the society scene.
Susan likes the outdoors and seems to always be hiking, biking, or camping. Constantly, she presses my wife to get more active and join her, but Cary prefers the predictability and comfort of the air-conditioned gym over time out in the elements.
"Come on girl, go biking with us," she begged while she was over one day.
"I don't have a bike," Cary countered, trying to decline indirectly.
"I'll get you a bike," her friend responded, undeterred.
"Don't those seats hurt your butt if you're not used to it?" I asked innocently.
"I don't want a sore butt," my wife jumped in, which brought an annoyed look towards me from Susan.
"Cary, you need to join me...do things with me sometimes," her friend whined, realizing she had lost the round.
Indeed, my wife did feel guilty about always saying no. She thought she was letting her friend down even though Susan had plenty of other people that joined her in her activities. Like multiple times before, the conversation finally ended with Cary agreeing that soon they would do something together.
Unlike Cary, Susan rarely showed any reluctance to join us when we were going out on the town, especially when it was a high-end function. Despite her limited interest in her appearance, she attracted men easily, and it was quite common for her to have several well-dressed young professional men clustered around. However, even though she dated often, a relationship never seemed to take. Cary was certainly proud of her friend, but I sensed from time to time a bit of jealousy around the attention she garnered with so little effort. Regardless, it was a subject I stayed well clear of.
I arrived home late one Friday and found Susan drinking wine with my wife in the backyard of our bungalow enjoying the early days of spring. Immediately, I could tell that they had a good start, and leaving them for the moment I changed and piddled around before returning a half-hour later. An empty bottle of Chardonnay sat on the table and a second, partially empty one, stood beside it.
"Please..." I heard Susan whine just as I stepped outside, and I guessed she was once again trying to convince my wife to accompany her on one of her activities.
"It sounds bizarre," Cary replied just as I sat.
"It's not. It's a native tradition," she responded, which piqued my interest.
"Susan wants me to go with her to some overnight Indian ceremony thing," my wife explained while looking at me with a silly, drunken grin.
"You can go, too," her friend quickly added.
"What is it?" I asked, confused but curious.
"A sweat lodge. It's a ceremony intended to bring out one's spirituality," Susan answered with surprising coherence.
After I gave her a look that indicated my lack of knowledge, she went on to explain that the ceremony occurred inside a small purpose-built structure intended to hold in the heat generated from stones recently removed from a nearby fire. The leader of the ceremony poured water over them creating steam that, to me, sounded an awful lot like a simple sauna. There were various rounds conducted with chanting and meditation utilized to allow one to open spiritually. Although I looked on expressionless, my mind reeled with the thought of participating in such a thing with what was undoubtedly going to be some awfully strange people. It seemed a bit out there, even for Susan, but I knew my wife wouldn't want me to brusquely decline, so I worked hard to think of a neutral response.
"Sounds unique," I said, thinking I had picked my words cleverly.
"So, you'll go?" she shot back, grasping at any non-negative opening.
