"Coming over tonight?", Pauline's voice asked when I answered my cell after I had landed from my recent business trip.
"Yeah, I think I will," I answered as I threw my carry-on bag into the back of my car, parked, as usual, a million miles from the exit of the long-term parking lot at the airport.
"Wife's working tonight?" Pauline asked/stated.
"Closing," I replied as I wended my way to the exit of the parking lot.
"Lily's spending the night with her friend," Pauline interjected, "so we'll be able to behave as adults," chuckling a bit after she said it.
Interesting, I thought quickly, before replying, "Well, that'll be fun."
"I hope so; see ya' later," Pauline responded, then, disconnecting the call.
Interesting, I thought again...
Pauline and Barb (my wife) worked at the same steak house as servers. The restaurant had a western theme, including live music at night, a large dance floor in the middle of the downstairs dining area and an upstairs dining area with it's own bar that they opened on the weekends. I had started working the upstairs bar on weekends, more to relieve boredom than for the money; but, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed bartending, having done it in college. But, the long and short of it is that is where I (we) first met Pauline.
Pauline and I had hit it off quickly. She had the same sardonic, irreverant sense of humor as I did, nothing too sacred for a barbed comment. She was primarily an artist who supplemented her income by waitressing and as a substitute teacher for one of the school districts in the city. She was divorced and had a daughter from her only marriage. She really never talked about her ex, good or bad, almost as if he was a means to an end, the end being, her daughter. I don't know this for a fact but that was my impression, anyway.
Over the months that we worked together, we both found comfortability with each other, becoming close friends fast. Not unusual for me in that I had more female friends than males, always did for whatever reasons. After a while, she came to know of Barb and I's periodic dalliances with the Swinger's Lifestyle, never being judgemental or critical of that facet of our lives. She had heard both Barb and I talk rather openly with her about a recent encounter that we might have had, either as a couple, or on our own. Pauline and Barb went out for after-work drinks sometimes, so she got to hear of Barb's solo fucks or sucks, whatever the case might have been. In short, Pauline was a close to a true Bohemian as I have ever known. Did her thing, let others do theirs, and never judgemental about either.
Over the months as our friendship grew, I would sometimes stop by as I made my sales calls when I was working in town, if she was home, for a quick shared toke with her, or to take her to lunch. As I've said, we became close friends.
This particular evening, Pauline and I had already planned to get together at her place though, at the time, she didn't know if Lily was going to be home or not. Now, keep in mind, that Pauline and I's relationship was not sexual, but I would have jumped her bones in a New York minute; she was 5'6'ish, toned and fit, nice ass and spectacular breasts, firm, large (C-cup), well shaped. I knew this only because she had asked me to take some nude shots of her that she would use later, to paint a series, using her body as a model. Never thought twice about it, me or her, never thought twice about me seeing her naked.
Like I said, a real Bohemian.
"Well, don't you look grand," I said when she opened her door to my knock, revealing as she did so, her attire of a flowing frock, the material light and 'airish', and showing off her boobs with a deep cleavage, hugging her ass in a good way.
"Well, thank you kind sir," she smilingly replied, complete with a curtsy worthy of the days of Knights and Ladies and Dragons.
"Want to share some wine with me?" she asked as she tossed her stash box to me, clearly indicating that my job was to start rolling some weed. She liked doobies but couldn't roll worth a shit. I could.
"Yeah, whatever you're having is fine with me," I replied as I made myself comfortable on her couch, her house almost as familiar to me as my own. I noticed, for the first time, that she had the small fireplace lit (it was the middle of Winter), some candles flickering from different spots in the small living room and Blues playing soft and low on her stereo. Our mutual love of real Blues music was a major factor in our bonding when we first discovered it about each other.
"Make that first joint a really fat bastard, will ya'?" She called from the kitchen as she poured our wine.
"Oh, I promise you, it'll be all of that; I've had a bitch of a week on the road and I plan on getting really fucked up," I warned her in reply.
"Great! Me too; let's get seriously fucked, tonight," her double-entendre reply, not lost on me.
Hmmph! I thought as my fingers did their magic with the herb and paper, should I read any more in that reply? Or was that a manifestation of my subconscious desire to fuck Pauline?
Truthfully? I never really pursued a plan to get Pauline into bed. I've never had problems in getting pussy, especially with our swinging and all; no, I just really didn't want to risk our friendship over a thing like pussy.
