Covid was a killer... we didn't personally know anyone that died... but we suffered as it attacked our life. We didn't know it at the time, but Covid was directly responsible for killing our marriage, the lockdown destroyed our relationship; we became irritated with each other, distant, hardly talking anymore; yet we were trapped together.
Bruce had to take a pay cut to avoid company lay-offs. The business where Ashley worked couldn't produce and were forced to shut down, causing a huge blow to their income, and their lifestyle relied on two incomes. Her unemployment benefits expired, their savings were dwindling, and she hadn't found work in nearly a year.
Bruce's daily routine after working 7 hours in an office cubicle, became supper, sofa, TV, beer, mostly watching sports then bed.
Mine was, make meals, laundry, cleaning house, shopping, reading a paperback or social media, searching job market, and bed.
Covid didn't directly kill us, but we were dying a slow unwitting death because of it; we were withdrawn, sad, stuck inside without hope because of the pandemic restrictions. We both lost interest in doing things to keep our relationship important. Bruce gained at least 15 pounds, I didn't get fat, but I let myself become complacent; shuffling around in my sleepwear and slippers all day, not bothering to brush my hair, not really caring about anything, if I'd gone to a doctor, I'd likely be labeled 'depressed.'
We just finished yet another cheap pasta meal, Bruce sighed, pushed his empty plate ahead, and his chair back. "I was thinking maybe we should rent out the basement room, maybe to a student, there's a bathroom down there with a shower."
"There's no kitchen, no fridge or stove down there; you're asking me to cook and clean for a stranger?"
"Well, why not; just treat it as job, you'd be working from home, do you have another solution? We're consistently falling further and further behind in our bills, if something doesn't change we'll lose the house."
I was reluctant, but I had no basis for argument, so I agreed and cleared the table; Bruce got a beer and went to his evening resting place.
Over the next couple days, I prepared the basement for a paying guest. I put up an ad at the university, and the local barista billboard, also posted on social media.
A few days later at supper Bruce excitedly announced.
"I mentioned at work we had a room for rent, Trevor came to me, offered me $1300 cash a month; his wife filed for divorce; he was kicked out of his house and is currently staying in a seedy hotel."
The next night Trevor came home with Bruce.
Trevor was a year older than Bruce, making him 3 years older than me. He was ruggedly handsome, had thick, very dark near black hair with striking blue eyes, he had a bit of a dad bod, but not fat. Tall, broad shoulders, and large hands that made me think he likely could fix anything and a soft and comforting deep voice.
We had a pleasant meal, Trevor was polite, kind.
A few days later I realized I was behaving different, likely because we had a guest; I felt different, more alive, upbeat, no longer lounging around in my favorite old T-shirt and comfortable sweats. I dressed better, even put on a bit of make-up most days; I planned my days activities instead of going through the motions and doing only what was the basic necessities.
Trevor got up early and went for a run every day; I'd hear him leave and I'd get up and start breakfast and plan my day then.
Bruce invited Trevor to remain upstairs whenever he wanted; I was upset at first, a stranger invading our privacy; however, I soon didn't mind as Trevor was very thoughtful, a great conversationalist, smart, humorous, always finding ways to make me laugh.
Trevor changed the barely tolerable atmosphere in our dismal home, to somewhat uplifting.
I quickly grew to enjoy him being around.
Then something else began; it didn't happen quickly, it kind of morphed over several weeks; at first it was simple things like offering to help set the table, cutting veggies or tossing salad as I prepped for supper, drying dishes after.
Even when I brought laundry to the living room, he'd help me fold, often behaving goofy. Once wearing my panties like a balaclava; or pinching his nose and rolling his eyes after sniffing Bruce's boxers.
His being in the house, changed my outlook, I had optimism again, a purpose.
One of the first days helping me make supper; I was at the stove, he was chopping lettuce; he yelped, I turned to see blood on his hand, on the counter and on the lettuce, it appeared like he chopped a finger off.
I rushed to him, grabbed his wrist, and covered his fingers with a dish towel. I looked at him about to speak to comfort him, he was bright eyed, smiling, trying to refrain from giggling. I pulled off the towel, he'd pranked me good; it was ketchup, he'd simply folded his finger.
I punched his chest, but I smiled, it was funny.
Another time he was making a salad, he got my attention, made sure I was watching, he laid a cucumber in front of him, soft of petted it, he took 2 smallish tomatoes, placed them on either side at the end nearest him, with his palms on the tomato, he maintained eye contact with me, and with his forefingers slowly lifted the cuke to an upright position. I was smiling broadly, but then he went down on it, swirled his tongue around the tip and sucked it, gagged when attempting deep throating; I laughed out loud. I understood it was all in good fun.
That was one of his first sexual innuendos; but every few days he found something humorous to make me giggle, blush or laugh.
Trevor's friendly attentiveness to me and his genuine interest in my day made me feel special. Our conversations were easy and lighthearted.
Our dish duty became something I really looked forward to; a calm, pleasant exchange of our daily activities, maybe a joke or two, but it was so nice to just have several minutes to chat with someone; I'd forgotten that Bruce and I used to do that all the time earlier in our marriage.
Trevor's attention made me realize Bruce didn't look at me like he used to or touch me like before; I also became aware Bruce didn't seem to care what we were doing.
I wondered if he even noticed me anymore. I tried to recall when we changed when we became comfortable, predictable, stagnant. I think it possibly started before Covid, but during lock down Bruce had fallen victim to a nightly routine of settling into the couch, watching sports on TV, drinking a couple beer while I read, or I did something on my laptop, until bedtime; that's not a life, that's existing.
Trevor was always present, not just when we in the kitchen, but wherever I was; he saw me, he got me, and did things my husband no longer did. Simple thoughtful things like getting me a drink in the evening, or a coffee made just the way I like it. Commenting "You OK," when I'd put my book on my lap and was in a trance staring off into space. His simplest of comments made me feel noticed, he made me feel wanted in a way my marriage hadn't made me feel in very long time.
Trevor had lost weight, and became more conscious of his health, occasionally went for a run in the evenings now, and he'd return sweaty, with his shirt over his shoulder, or in his hand. I noticed his dad bod had disappeared; his stomach was flat his abs pronounced. I couldn't help but stare a bit too long, and Trevor noticed, and his smile made me think it was ok. I convinced myself there was no harm in looking, because of that, I changed favorite chairs in the living room, so I didn't have to look sideways when he returned hot and sweaty. I could watch him go to the kitchen for water, then gaze at him as he struts through the room smiling, as he went downstairs for a shower.
Trevor started a kind of game during our evening TV time. He'd wait for me to look over my reading glasses at him, he'd try touching his tongue to his nose while going cross-eyed; or screw up his face and stick his tongue out like a 3-year-old; anything to try and make me laugh; making me realize he thought I was more important than TV or reading.
Trevor had become more than our boarder; something had slowly shifted, he became closer to me than my husband and I fantasized my life with Trevor.
There were the subtle glances across the meal table, that nurtured silent thoughts. Accidental light grazes or lingering touches when working together in the kitchen or reaching for something at the meal table.
When I felt those grazes on my bare skin, it seemed to create a slow burn that permeated and deepened, not leaving a scar but leaving an indefinite impression, a memory; I found myself wanting more.
We had developed a strong friend bond, and recently I often imagined us together intimately. I knew Trevor had been pressing in that direction for some time now; his flirting became more sexual, his touches more intentional and lingered longer, his eyes were lust filled.
We were to a point where we could easily cross that invisible line and become amorous.
I struggled, but needed to remain vigilant, to resist, knew once I let my guard down and step across that threshold, there's never really a way back, it's done; and an affair would definitely destroy my marriage, my morals motivated me to enjoy the flirting, but stand firm and not cross than invisible line.
That didn't mean I couldn't fantasize.
One evening we were doing the dishes; I stopped, gazed into Trevor's sensuous blue eyes. "Trevor, you're so attentive, kind, helpful, and humorous; what did you do? Why on earth are you divorced?"
Trevor got a smirk I'd not seen, he stared at me; I thought he might be trying to think up some excuse, some lie, that didn't make him responsible.
His eyes actually twinkled; "I didn't hear Laura until it was too late." He picked up another plate and went about drying it as if he'd answered my question.
I heard his words but, it didn't satisfactorily answer my question, it actually sparked more curiosity. "Please explain Trevor, what were you doing, what was she telling you that you didn't hear?"
He put down the plate, took my hands from the sink, dried them with the dish towel, turned me so we were facing one another. Trevor held both my hands, he became singularly serious, his expression was almost scary as he peered into soul.
For a brief moment, time seemed to slow, although not intended to be erotic, his firm grip with warm hands sent shivers up my arms, his touch fanned embers, reignited fire raged feelings I hadn't realized were dormant.
I knew without looking I had goosebumps; the electric sensations went to my nipples, even made my pussy wet.
{No, don't go there Ashley, this is wrong, you must keep it platonic.}
