It was a warm day in June. Gina walked the stone path to Sam's back yard, chilled bottle of wine in hand. She had told him she would stop by today for a few minutes, to help celebrate his first week without chemotherapy. The two worked together, but in different departments. They had become friends over many weeks of lunches in the company break room. She learned he had been winning a battle against cancer, but the treatments had been brutal. He'd been sick almost every day for six months.
Over the months Sam had shared with Gina that his wife had moved out around the time of his diagnosis. Each Friday he endured a treatment that left him violently ill, exhausted and emotionally drained all weekend. She was amazed at his determination in keeping that pace for months, and still showing up to work each Monday. Gina had shared with Sam that her own marriage was loveless, that she was just biding her time with her husband until the kids were a little older. But talking to Sam she realized that her problems were small; at least she had her health.
Last week Sam told Gina he had finished chemo, and taken the final treatment. She saw an unfamiliar sparkle in his eye. Sam said he could not wait to live his life again, to work in his backyard garden, to go out with friends, to feel desire for a woman and to please her. He confided in Gina that while he'd been going through the treatment he had no energy for sex, and now he was worried if his sex life would ever recover. Would his body even work the same? He said he wished he had someone to help him ease back into sex without expecting too much, to test his abilities because he was so nervous. Since he didn't know anyone willing to do that without a commitment, Sam said he would just focus on other things for a while and let the sex work itself out; he had missed so many little joys during his illness.
Sam's plans for the first weekend without treatment were to relax and spend time in his yard, something he said he had missed doing. Gina mentioned she would have a little free time between errands, so he invited her to come by and see his work.
As she entered the back yard gate she could see that he'd been working on the garden that morning. The stone path was neatly edged, the lawn was freshly cut, and the flowerbeds had new mulch. A wheelbarrow sat near the patio, where she saw Sam stretched out on a lounge chair asleep. He was wearing cut off jean shorts, and his baseball cap was tipped over his face for shade.
Gina contemplated placing the wine bottle on the patio table, and then sneaking away quietly so Sam could sleep. She stood looking at Sam for a long moment, admiring his shirtless chest. She had never seen him outside of his typical work khaki pants and collared shirt. Even after being sick for so long, his arms looked strong, and his stomach taut.
Gina sat the wine bottle on the table, but instead of sneaking away she walked toward the sleeping Sam. Standing over him, she slipped her shirt off revealing her lacy pink and black bra. For a woman in her 40's she knew she was still sexy and worked hard to keep her body in shape. Despite her workday look she always dressed in frilly underthings underneath, and today was no different. She reached down to rub her full breasts, dipping a finger into the sheer fabric to graze a nipple. She licked her lips thinking about what she was going to do next.
Gina bent over Sam, lightly running her hands over his chest. Deep in sleep, his chest rose and fell with each breath but her caress didn't cause him to move. She placed her shirt on the ground as a cushion, then sat on her knees by the side of the lounger. Slowly, she massaged his thighs, gradually reaching higher until her fingers were on his upper thighs underneath the edge of his shorts.
