Even fifteen years after graduation, my old college roomy, Lisa, and I are still best of friends. We e-chat, go to school reunions, and sometimes make visits to each other's home. Mine is in Michigan; hers is near Tampa, Florida. Back in college, Lisa was the innovative, daring one, and I was more conservative and inhibited. However, over the course of four years, she persuaded me to get bolder and enjoy life, which made me mature into a more interesting woman. One of the fun things we shared was our habit of borrowing items from each other: clothes, class notes, books, music, even boyfriends. The borrowing, of course, is past history. That is, it was until last April.
My husband was sent on a ten-day business marketing trip to Germany, so I decided to chase away the late-winter blahs and go to a warm climate at the same time. I arranged a visit to Lisa's home, while my in-laws stayed with our two children. Unfortunately, on Thursday, one day after I arrived, Lisa received a telephone call informing her that her father, who had retired to Arizona, had suffered a heart attack. Lisa and Ron, her husband, decided to fly to Phoenix, to visit her father and comfort her mother. My Super-Saver airline tickets required that I lay over the weekend, so I was forced to stay at their house until the following Tuesday.
I was quite disappointed that the trip did not work out the way I had dreamed. Visiting Lisa had more meaning for me than a simple get-away from cold, blustery Michigan to the idyllic April warmth of Florida. I was thirty-eight, and part of me felt that my life had slid into the dullsville pit of the prototypical middle-class suburban wife with a no-challenge job. When I decided to visit Lisa, I was hoping that together we could somehow re-energize my inner batteries, so to speak. But that wish and our activity plans fell apart after Lisa's phone call.
"I'm sorry that I've spoiled your vacation, Gail," Lisa said tearfully. "But I really have got to see Dad and Mom."
"I understand," I replied, trying to comfort her in any way that I could. "Don't you worry about me; you take care of your family. I'll find plenty of things to do by myself."
"Thanks for being so understanding, Gail. You may as well use our master bedroom instead of the guest room. You'll be more comfortable. And feel free to use whatever is in the house." She smiled through her tears. "You know, like you borrowed from me when we roomed together."
I laughed at her little joke and gave her a reassuring hug.
"Don't you worry about me, Lisa. You go and take care of your dad and mom. I'm sure that I can find enough to do on my own to make my stay here pleasant enough."
Little did I realize at the time how true that statement would turn out to be. Lisa and Ron took a late flight to Phoenix on Thursday night, leaving me to fend for myself until they returned the following Monday. I pondered what I would do with my time. Driving around an unfamiliar spread-out city was too confusing, and I wasn't ready to do the night life scene on my own. Other ideas came to mind, but eventually I decided to simply relax in Lisa's and Ron's very nice house. I also determined to take Lisa up on her offer to borrow anything I wanted to make my stay pleasant.
Thursday night, I slept in Lisa's luxurious king-size bed in the master bedroom, wearing a filmy nightgown of hers that looked so sexy that I simply had to borrow it. On Friday morning, on another impulse, I borrowed a pair of her low-cut jeans and a midriff-baring tank top - something I have wanted to wear, but never had the nerve. With my borrowed sexy outfit, I courageously made a trip to a suburban mall, and showed off my belly button, ass, and boobs to shoppers while I purchased gifts to bring back to my two kids and Gram. I returned to Lisa's house after lunch, and the brilliant sunlight streaming on the secluded back yard pool inspired me to get a head start on my summer tan. That, however, required a swim suit and some book to read at the poolside -- two things I hadn't packed. Easy enough, I thought, I'll simply borrow one of Lisa's swim suits, and she and Brian had plenty of novels on their bookshelves that I hadn't yet read. After all, I kept telling myself, Lisa had said that I could borrow whatever I wanted.
I searched the built-in closet in the master bedroom, where I discovered Lisa's collection of swim suits in the third drawer on her side of the dresser case. I knew that Lisa prided herself by being on the leading edge of styles, and this was Florida, but somehow it's shockingly different to discover an assortment of very skimpy bikinis in your best friend's dresser. My curiosity and desire to do something totally out of character got the better of me, and I dared myself to wear the skimpiest bikini in the drawer. I think that all women have a secret desire to be an exhibitionist at times, and I was no different. After all, I argued with the inhibited side of me, who would even see me? I stripped off my clothes and slipped on a yellow thong bikini bottom with matching string tied top. It felt different, but kind of nice, I concluded, after I looked in the full-length mirror in Lisa's bedroom. I was satisfied that my caloric cutback and workouts at the fitness center left nothing to be embarrassed about. That is, if you don't feel embarrassed about having your ass cheeks totally bare, and the globes of your breasts covered with just two little triangles.
The sun felt warm and comfortable on my body, and the padded chaise lounge next to the pool was ideal for relaxing while catching my rays. I got comfortable with my tiny bikini in the privacy of the back yard, but the sun baking on my skin eventually had me hot and perspiring. I left my book and towel next to the chaise and waded down the built-in steps into the shallow end of the pool. The water was cool but refreshing, and I began to leisurely swim to the far side, practicing my crawl stroke and rotary breathing. After the first up-and-back, the physical workout felt good, and I continued swimming laps like I do at the Y back home. The routine is like repetitive yoga for me, and my mind went far away, dreaming idle thoughts. I was oblivious to my immediate surroundings, while my arms and legs propelled my body up and back in the pool.
Eventually, my workout energy was consumed, and I swam one final lap, heading for the shallow end of the pool. I stood up, gathered my wet hair behind my neck, and wiped the dripping water from my eyes. That was when I noticed a young man in swimming trunks was standing next to my chaise. He was in his early twenties, I judged, and had a swimmer's physique: slim, hard muscles, with little hair on his chest. The look on his face told me that he was just as astonished as I was to find someone else in the pool. I had no idea who he was, and demanded an explanation as to why he was there.
"I think that I should ask you that same question," the young man replied. "My name is Todd Dwyer. Brian, the owner of this house, is my father. And who might you be?"
I recalled that Lisa had told me that Brian is nine years older than she, and this was his second marriage.
"I'm Gail Tobias." I replied to Mr. Todd Dwyer. "Your step-mother and I were college roommates, and I'm visiting her. Or, rather, was. I presume that you know that Lisa's father had a heart attack, and she and Brian, er, that is your father, went to visit him."
This explanation must have satisfied him, and he relaxed from his tense, defensive posture. My concern abated as well, and I took in more of his features. He was just over six feet tall, with brown hair cut medium length, dark eyes that sparkled, and chiseled cheekbones and chin. A very handsome young man, I concluded, who obviously was cast from the southern Florida mold. I noticed that he was checking me out as well. I looked down my front, to see what interested my young acquaintance. I gasped with the realization it was me in that itsy bitsy bikini. I, too, saw plenty of cleavage on display between my breasts, and their nipples were somewhat enlarged. I attributed that condition to the pool water, at least partly. And the bottom half barely covered my pussy, which still was a lot more coverage than my backside. My towel was behind Todd, draped over the chaise lounge, so I didn't have much choice other than to brazen out the scene.