Both being teachers, my husband Bob and I relished three months of summer vacation, which began in late May. My name is Julie. The tensions of teaching in abeyance, I hoped to turn over a new leaf by drinking less and exercising more. Bob was displeased that I slept too much and had gained weight, mostly from alcoholic drinks and not enough exercise. He is 48, 5'9" with light brown hair and at a healthy weight. To me, he's handsome, and he has a rich bass voice that resonates romantically with me. I am 47, 5', blonde with short hair, light blue eyes and a voluptuous figure, rather too much so around my middle. He had no complaint about my 36D breasts or my shapely legs, however.
We lived in a small, two-story house sided with asbestos slate and painted yellow that was built in the 1890s. Most houses in the neighborhood were built small then, but many were added on to later. The apparent addition to ours was only a two-season porch that had been moved from the front to the back, making the house look backward.
We got off to a healthy start each morning, walking our dogs, a West highland White terrier and a Yorkshire terrier. I did something daring for me by starting to attend a fitness center one afternoon a week. My goal was to reduce my waist by 2" and my upper thighs by an inch or so. As a beginner, I did not have a sports bra but substituted a halter, which left me self-conscious about my midriff. I wore light blue shorts mid-thigh in length. I did have walking shoes.
Since the center was only five or six blocks away, it didn't make much sense to drive there when my goal was exercise. With expert guidance, I chose exercise machines that were not too strenuous: a treadmill, an exercise bike, and weights on cables and pullies. The attendant would show me how to begin, set a time, and return when my time was up.
I noticed a dark-haired man, who looked trim and fit and thirty-something. Then, I noticed him noticing me. On the exercise bike, my shorts revealed about two-thirds of my white, bare thighs. I became self-conscious about my thighs and bare midriff. Almost every time I took a quick glance at him, however, he was looking at me and smiling, as if he liked what he saw!
That evening, I had one less drink. Once each spring and summer, Bob visited his parents 250 miles north, in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. There, he usually met his elder cousin, Pete, who pulled his boat and motor from Michigan to visit his parents, fish all day and drink all night. Bob usually joined his dad and his cousin in the corner bar first, and then on to the Moose Club.
Pete left his arthritic wife back in Michigan with her circle of women friends. He would sidle up to a single woman at the bar, and as she came under the influence, he would proposition her. Every year, I wondered if Bob would be corrupted by his older cousin's example.
Opening Day of fishing season was always the second weekend of May, so Pete, a professor of chemistry, and Bob would try to get there soon after the spring semester ended, about a week later, while the water was still cold and the fishing was hot.
For the first ten or so years of our marriage, I accompanied him. I didn't fish, so there wasn't much for me to do. His mother was shy and quiet. She had only an eighth-grade education. We both grew up on farms, though. We watched some movies on TV, went shopping, and gardened some. She was a meticulous housekeeper, spending much of her day on it. She read romance novels and I read mysteries. Bob's dad retired after 35 years in iron mining, at 58, so he had plenty of time to fish and too much time to drink.
I preferred to drink at home rather than sit at a bar getting tipsy and tipping off the stool. I went with Bob and we danced a few times in the Moose Club. I sat with him at the bar a few times, while he played pool with his dad. When I swiveled around to watch, my legs attracted some attention.
One time, one of his dad's drunken pals sidled up to me to ogle my legs in my mini-skirt and then my big breasts. He tried to chat me up, leaning close for me to hear him above the din. Even without slurring his words, he would have not been very articulate. He slipped, accidentally on purpose, to rest a clammy hand far up my bare thigh and his nose perilously close to my right breast. When Bob returned for a sip of his drink, the man slurred something about just visiting with the lovely and charming wife and shuffled away.
When we added a second dog, I took that as an excuse to stay here. As usual, we made love the night before he left. That would have to last him a week, unless, under Pete's influence, Bob pilfered some pussy.
My return to the center after Bob's departure on Friday again coincided with the man who had seemed to be admiring me during my first visit. After finishing my routines, I had some time left. I told an attendant that I would like to try some sit-ups to build some abdominal muscles. He laid a foam mat for me on the floor and left, assuming that I was able. I could not do one! My ostensible admirer came over to help.
"Hi, I'm Mark. It often takes a partner to do sit-ups. Let me help."
He had an easy-going, good-humored manner.
"I'm Julie. Thank you. It's embarrassing not to be able to do a sit-up!"
I lay back. Mark held my ankles down, but I could not sit up once. He had me bend my knees a little and placed his right forearm across my thighs just above my knees. When I tried to raise my torso, he put his left hand on my bare back and helped me to rise. We did that for ten repetitions. His attention encouraged me. Looking at and feeling my body gave him an erection, which I pretended not to notice.
"Thanks, Mark! You deserve a reward, a cold drink of something!"
When he learned that I had walked, he offered to drive me home for that cold drink. I had walked into that and was about to be driven further. He opened the passenger door for me. I feared that my ass was too big. When he sat behind the wheel, he took a long look at my legs. I tried to tug my shorts down, which was impossible and only drew more attention.
"I need to slim my thighs down!" I blurted out.
"You have beautiful legs with beautiful skin. Exercise will tone them."
"Thank you."
"I see by your wedding ring, a quite distinctive one, that you're married. Is your husband home or at work?"
"He's away for a week to visit relatives and go fishing."
"Why didn't you go along?"
"I don't fish. At night, he, his cousin and his dad end up in bars. Sometimes, one of their drunken bar buddies tries to get chummy with me. When I drink, I prefer to do it at home. Instead, I'm dog-sitting our two dogs. What's your thumbnail biography?"
"I must seem nosey. I'm 35, divorced, with a child who lives with her mother. I teach computer science at the university. A great thing about a college town is that, combined with K-12 teachers, and tech school teachers, we have lot of company, besides retirees, for our three months of leisure."
"It's nice that you have a few minutes to spare for me."
"Oh, I've over-sold that, overlooking the friends who are away, like your husband, visiting relatives or on family trips. Some people schedule their leisure so far that they haven't much time for spontaneity."
So, I led him into my home. I chose a diet coke, and Mark some cider. I sat in my recliner; Mark sat on the couch so that we were almost facing each other. I mentioned Pete's licentious behavior with his wife safely back in Michigan.
"You trust your husband not to be corrupted by his older cousin, then?"
"Pete's credo is 'nothing ventured, nothing gained.' Bob's is 'nothing ventured, nothing lost.' He does not want to be an adulterer, much less a rejected 'would-be' adulterer. Pete thinks that, if a woman rejects his advances, it's her loss."
"I hadn't thought of Bob's philosophy. What if a woman makes the first move and tempts your husband?"
"I try not to think about that."
"Obviously, he trusts you, despite the fact that women don't have to risk rejection, because men will make all the advances."
"I'm safe at home or going out with a married woman friend."
"I have an idea! The afternoon is young. Why don't we go swimming? I don't mean the lake, which is too cold yet, but a motel swimming pool. They charge a few bucks for an hour in their pool."
"I don't know how to swim!"
"I'll teach you!"
Going swimming was a good angle for a man to get most of a woman's clothes off, play with her in the water, and feel her up, I thought.
"I don't even have a swimsuit, except for an old black one I wore only for Bob to take pictures. I don't think it would fit me anymore."
"'Sexy pictures, I bet! Nothing ventured, nothing gained!' Try it on."
