Summer of '83 +++++
Yet another hot and sticky day, it wasn't quite as oppressive as it had been in recent weeks. It may have been over three weeks since our part of the world started baking in the current heat wave; but only two weeks since things had really heated up at my younger brother's downtown apartment. The past two weeks spent with the baby offered little diversion from my 30-something hormones. So, when my estranged hubby picked the baby to spend an extended weekend with his relatives, I was quietly relieved. His snide question, "Getting any lately?" was surely meant to antagonize me. Fact was, I was alone again for the weekend -- alone and undeniably horny... again.
The last episode with my younger brother and his roommates had definitely charged my libido, but there was no way I could justify satisfying my revived appetite for sex with them; that was just too close to home. It would be best for me to redirect such thoughts. "Just forget it, Girl and move on," I reiterated, as I stood pensively gazing out our bedroom window.
As if caught in-between dreams, my unseeing eyes glossed over with vague memories of Bill and Sherry's house and backyard. The Ames' two-story house was almost directly across from our place. A six-foot tall privacy fence separated our lots. I recalled when they built it, only a month after they and their two kids moved in about four years ago. The vague memories become clearer now. The fence was not so much a privacy fence as it was necessary for the security of their new swimming pool. "Gosh, I'll bet we haven't spoken to them since their house warming party; that was over four years ago," I recalled, "What a disaster THAT was!"
Flashback: Summer of '79
Bill and Donny (my hubby), both involved in construction, were more than just casual acquaintances. In fact, it was Donny that turned Bill on to our neighborhood when they were house hunting.
Sherry was the complete opposite of what one might expect a construction supervisor's wife to be. The leggy, svelte woman worked as a freelance model for a local agency. It always amazed me she could find enough modeling work in our semi-rural locale. However, there was no doubting her appeal. The tall, slender blonde was a true trophy wife and endeavored to distinguish herself as such.
The only thing she seemed to have in common with her burly spouse was incredible good looks. Handsome Bill was built like a Mack truck, a totally rugged Field and Stream hunk that oozed testosterone from every pore. Seeing the two of them together was like watching some weird casting call for "Tweetybird Meets Godzilla"; which is how we affectionately referred to them.
We caught mere glimpses of Sherry and their two teenagers after they moved in, but Bill seemed to be always out in the yard, building this and that. Soon after settling in they installed a full size concrete pool in their backyard. Consequently we received an invitation to a combination housewarming/pool party.
I remember asking Donny what we should wear to such an event. "Hell, I don't know. The invitation says they'll be christening their new pool, so I suppose swimsuits are in order. I'm sure Bill has seen you tanning out back, so just wear your white bikini," he suggested with a twinkle.
"Yeah I'm sure Tweetybird, I mean Sherry, would like THAT," I rolled my eyes.
"Screw her. If she can't handle the competition, they shouldn't have mentioned it being a pool party," Donny concluded.
"What competition; like I could ever compete with a friggin' Cosmo model?"
"Hmm, let's see... a friggin' Cosmo model verses a voluptuous Playboy pinup... sounds like a competition to me," Donny chortled.
His comment was close enough to being an authentic compliment I accepted it. "Well thanks Darlin'; guess I WILL wear the bikini. Bill can see what it looks like up close."
"Up close... AND personal?"
I shrugged off the innuendo, squeezed my deep-tanned thighs and 36-d melons into my two-piece, white, string bikini. Pulling on a light pastel beach blouse for civility sake, I grabbed a bottle of wine, before we headed across the back lawn. Since there were only a few couples mingling on the patio, we opted to make a formal entry through the front door.
Sherry, the perfect hostess, greeted us at the door. Luckily she was dressed similarly in a short terrycloth -- designer label I'm sure -- robe. Most of the guests were dressed ready to take a dip on such a hot day. Expecting Sherry to be some stuck-up fashion queen, I was relieved to see how accommodating she was. After introducing us around to their friends, she grabbed hold of her flighty son's wrist. Fifteen-year-old Zach, intent on beating a path upstairs, stopped dead in his tracks long enough to catch his breath and cordially shake our hands with a smile.
"And this one's obsessed with photography; always snapping us when we least expect it," Sherry smiled through pursed lips.
"Pleased to meet you, Zach. Sounds like we need to keep an eye out for you," I joked, as the prematurely tall, handsome teen brushed back his too long blonde locks.
"Yeah, good to meet you folks. Just let me know if you ever need your pool cleaned. I'm the best!" The boy blurted out, without realizing we didn't have a pool.
His mother corrected the shy teenager. He loosened from her grasp and bolted upstairs, like some nervous, gangly antelope. "Kids will be... well, you know," Sherry shrugged and asked if we were planning on starting our own family.
I was in mid-answer when two big paws planted themselves heavily on my shoulders. "So who's this foxy little thing, Donny?" A gruff voice came from behind.
"Hey Bill, how's it going? You've met Barb, haven't you?" Donny smiled, as Godzilla easily twirled me around for a better look.
In the process of twirling, my blouse flew open to display my ample jugs swinging within the confines of my less-than-modest bikini top. "Well, it's Barb; guess you aren't as little as I'd imagined," Bill brashly remarked, as I cautiously smiled and recovered the evidence.
"Jesus Bill, can you BE any more of a Neanderthal?" Sherry scolded and quickly shifted her eyes to ensure none of the other guests were privy to her spouse's obnoxious behavior.
"Sorry Barb, I think Bill has been spiking the punch. He can be such an animal," Sherry apologized.
"Oh gosh Sherry, think nothing of it. I think he's kinda cute. I've been handled much, MUCH worse; trust me," I laughed and took hold of the Neanderthal's muscular forearm. "Come on Bill, you can buy me some punch," I smiled and ushered the 6-foot tall hunk outside to the patio.
