They were not even sure if they were going to allow me to live with them. My supposed best friend could not make the final decision on his own. He had to make sure it was clear with the “lady” of the house. I guess in some ways he could not be blamed, there was a sort of allure about her that could not be denied, the way she looked, her scent, yea I guess I could see why he did not want to upset her. He is gone a lot too, so I am sure that played into the decision. It would just be her and I together alone in the apartment most of the time, and I cannot put my finger on who that worried more her or him. What did he have to be worried about? I am loyal…We are best friends for God’s sake.
As the months went by I think we all became gradually more comfortable with the living situation. I suppose myself especially, I had the run of the place, and she began to warm up to me. My friend was always at work, so she and I began to spend a lot of time together. At first I would get the feeling she did not want me around, but as time went on she seemed to enjoy me there. I started to be there all the time, when she cooked, when she ate, I was there. When she watched her shows, I watched her. There was something about her that I could not take my eyes off. She had long thick black hair, well-endowed top and bottom. She always wore sweatpants pulled up just below the knee and a tank top that induced the imagination as you peered down the darkening recess between her breasts. Just the slightest amount of skin revealed itself between the sweatpants and the tank top displaying her delicate white skin, like the color of a pearl, and as a pearl is the most beautiful gem in the ocean, I began to see her as the most beautiful creature on land.
She started to do odd things that made me feel both an intense excitement and an overwhelming guilt. It was almost as if she was intentionally tempting me The first time she left the bedroom door open after showering I anchored myself on the couch. My will, and loyalty being my only defense against my nature my need to see her how I know she is right now. “is she inviting me” I thought to myself. Was she putting it on me to break the trust my friend obviously has for the both of us? My poor best friend thinks he found his Juliet, while I fear I have taken up residence with Madame Bovary.
When it happened again, when she got out of the shower and left the door open there was not enough will left in me not to see what has been consuming my thoughts for months. Like a sailor to a siren, I was hopelessly drawn to her. I watched as she dropped the towel to the ground. My eyes traveled from the tips of her toes, up to her legs. The transition of color from her legs to the parts of her body untouched by the sun caused my arousal. The tans to the soft white and into the dark recesses, the beauty was beyond words. She slowly dried her body. She bent down in front of me to dry her legs. She dried her breast and slowly got dressed. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I could have happily remained in that moment for a lifetime. Although our eyes never met we knew what was happening, we knew we had crossed a line. This exhibition fell just short of proposition, I did not know how to interpret it. I slowly walked away, grateful.
A couple of days had gone by and we were sitting on the couch watching a movie. Her feet rested on my leg so I genuinely could not tell you what movie, I could not recite a word of it if I tried. I was fixated on her touch on my leg. I sit there staring at the tv, as does she. I take the gentile press of her toes on me as a subtle sexual offering. I wonder to myself if I am reading the situation accurately, or have I become obsessed with her. One of her legs drop to the floor and she drags her pointed toe up and down a fallen blanket. My heart begins to beat faster. I think I understand this gesture as a sign that she is wanting me to act. Her body is speaking to me as she faces the tv. I think to myself if she makes one more incitement of intimacy then I have to take my opportunity. That is when her legs open slightly, her foot slides behind my back pushing up the sweatpants to reveal her thick welcoming thigh. She continues not to face me but as fast as my heart beats I can see her chest increase its breath I watch her full creamy breasts heave up and down, and it puts me into a trance. With animal magnetism I press myself against her. I drag my nose up the inside of her trembling thigh. She faces the tv, I breathe her in, I breathe her in, I breathe in the dark pale humidity between her legs. I do not dare look at her face in fear that guilt still has a chance against my desire. Instead, I look down at her hanging foot. I watch as the delicate white foot turns red with pressure as if she is about to be overcome with guilty resistance. I crawl further up her and watch as her foot releases to its submissive pure white, she has relented to her desire and that is when I close my eyes and drag my tongue.
A chaotic second later I am ripped from my moments of bliss as a rush of reality enters the room. I had lost track of time. She must have lost track of time. The door opened and there was my best friend. I felt immediate shame. He aggressively grabbed my collar and dragged me onto the pillow on the floor. He yelled to her that he had told her he did not want me on the furniture…some best friend he is.
Greg Charpentier is a Father, Veteran, Author, and Therapist. Find him on Instagram @greg5463.