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Awake

By: BenLong



I awoke.

It wasn't as if an alarm clock had gone off, I just gradually became aware that something needed my attention. In my groggy state I reached over, sliding my hand over to touch and caress my wife, but the cruelly frigid satin of empty sheets on a hot summer's night reminded me that she was not there, that she would never again be there. The realization that I was alone drove the fuzziness from my sleep deprived brain. 

I opened my eyes. The oppressive blackness that heavy curtains on a moonless night create only made me feel blind. It was a self-imposed blackness; a blackness that enveloped and smothered in an attempt to deny the reality of the world; an oppressive blackness from the very same curtains that I had installed just days earlier in an effort to sleep better. 

The curtains didn't help. 

In fact, what was unusual about awakening to the cruel, soulless, darkness was not that it was pitch black; what was unusual was that I had been asleep at all. Samson whimpered once again, nearly in my ear; the sound providing an anchor to my self-imposed state of disorientation. Rolling over, my outstretched hand was immediately bumped against by a wet nose. 

"Ok, Boy. Let's go."

I arose, walking naked through the house, kicking one of the shoes that I'd taken off and just dropped in the middle of the floor. The thought that I never would have left a shoe in the middle of the floor when she was alive passed through my mind. There were a lot of things I wouldn't have done just a few short months before. 

I opened the door to a different inky blackness. The moon, just beginning to peak over the hill, made sections of the yard appear as bright as day while simultaneously hiding even better whatever lurked in the darkness of the shadows. I wasn't worried about anyone seeing me even though normally in a city, even in the semi-rural areas, it seems that someone is always around. It doesn't matter the time of day or night, someone is always up; a car going by, a neighbor arriving or just leaving. But on my hill - I was unworried. The dog brushed past me, headed for the stairs to do his business. 

I followed him to the wooden balcony which swept around the downhill side of the house. Looking over the top of the citrus and avocado trees I could barely see my nearest neighbor's house; the front door and an upstairs window the only portions where people could have been that wasn't hidden by the trees of the orchard. From here, I would have been visible during the day, but not now. Standing in the moon shadow of the house I was hidden, but there was no one awake at the neighbors anyway. Looking over the top of their house the valley unfolded below me with rows and rows of sparkling lights punctuated by changing red and green stoplights at intersections - a million dollar view that we had never tired of. In the distance a flash caught my eye, followed seconds later by another. By the third I realized it was the airport beacon, identifying its location to me as if I were a pilot on approach. I would have traded it all to have my lover, my wife, my Debs, back in my arms.

The dog bounded back up the stairs and stopped momentarily waiting for me. I retreated from the balcony to the upper yard where the view of any neighbors totally disappeared. Pine and eucalyptus trees loomed above the house hiding the fact that I was nearly on top of the world. Two boulders as big as a normal house, a detached garage, the small amount of hill remaining above our house which was otherwise situated nearly on top of the hill - all conspired to create our own private oasis from reality where the outside world disappeared. A swimming pool was the dominant feature of the yard; that - and the native boulders. The pool wasn't built into the ground as much as it was builtonto the ground. The granite boulders had dictated where the pool would be as much as the original owner had. I stepped close enough to reach out and check the water temperature with my hand. Comfortably cool -- comfortably warm.

She'd named it the "McDonald's House" when she first saw it. The realtor almost hadn't shown it to us, it was well out of what we thought to be our price range. Debs, my wife, had been looking at houses and the realtor just mentioned that she'd heard about this particular house that was coming on the market and wondered if she'd like to see it while they were "almost" in the neighborhood. After a couple of weeks of looking and not finding what we really wanted, Debs was open to anything. We really couldn't afford it at first, but that didn't prevent us from falling in love with it. 

It was early evening when I first saw it; my first impression being the spectacular view of the valley some seven hundred feet below. A valley full of lights was gradually taking over from the sun of the day; rows of concrete, wood and grass, becoming rows and rows of glistening lights. By the time we left an hour later, the view was mesmerizing with the city lights twinkling through the dissipating heat of the day.

We thought it was out of our price range and, the reality is, it was. Our previous home had finally sold, for less than we thought it should, but at least that gave us the money to begin looking in our new city. Somehow, our taste and our budget just never seemed to match; but from that time on, everything else we saw we compared to the "McDonald's House." 

Our economic reality changed a mere two weeks later. Late on a Friday I was told the CEO wanted to see me. Dread immediately came to mind - he was seldom there on a Friday, let alone in the afternoon. Puzzled as to why I would be summoned, my brain raced over everything I'd touched, looking for the screw-up that could only be the cause for such a momentous occasion. I became even more uneasy when I found the other four top executives already there and waiting. 

We were a comparatively small, but very dynamic and fast paced company. The job, when I was hired had been totally new to me, but my skills were just as applicable to the needs of my new job as they had been to where I had been. I'd answered a call from a headhunter (a "recommendation" from some unmentioned "friend") that thought I was a good fit. I'd turned them down at first, not even really tempted to change. I had a good contract with my consulting business that seemed a sure thing. I'd been happy doing what I was doing, apparently secure for years to come. 

It's funny how seemingly unrelated events can come together, totally unexpectedly, and the future can become quite clear. It was really a minor thing that started it, followed by an increasing cascade of "little things." A single contract, among a multitude of contracts with problems, but the only one that I was directly affiliated with; a single contractor that didn't perform to expectations; a single unexpected call from a headhunter; a single isolated case of a seemingly well done job that fell apart at the end, and suddenly I began to pick up on other tidbits here and there - little inklings that all was not well. What had seemed to me to be a long term "sure thing" just a few weeks before was suddenly seeming very shaky. 

Opportunity seldom knocks twice, but when the headhunter called again a month later, I agreed to an interview just to hedge my bets. The job opportunity didn't seem like a match made in heaven, but a week later they asked me for a second interview where they offered me nearly as much as I had been making as base pay -- but with non-guaranteed performance incentives and bonuses, amounts of which remained unnamed. Other benefits, such as not commuting, tilted the balance in favor of changing although I had misgivings about "bonuses."

I didn't burn my bridges, even though technically I didn't have to worry as a subcontractor, and gave two weeks' notice that I would be leaving. A paltry four weeks after I left, due to the multitude of seemingly minor problems that I'd been noting my last couple of weeks there, my previous employer unexpectedly cancelled all remaining personal services contracts. If I hadn't left when I did, I'd have been unemployed. It turned out that I made the move at just the right time.

I don't know if I would have believed them even if they had told me the possible bonuses. Several times over the years I'd been involved with different companies that promised performance bonuses and incentives. Somehow, whenever it came time to discuss actual bonus numbers, the "company" hadn't done well that year, the "division" was down that year, or the "economy" was down that year. Always the same, "Gee, you've done an outstanding job, but...." I'd learned that bonuses were more talk than substance. Although it's common perception that "exempt" employees are exempt because they're higher paid, it's not uncommon for workers getting paid for their overtime hours to make more per year than exempt employees.

To say that I was floored, just a few minutes after I entered my unscheduled meeting with the CEO and his Top Dogs, would have been an understatement. We discussed the latest project I'd been working on - how successful several changes that I'd implemented had been; how they'd made the company millions of dollars, how thankful they were they'd hired me, and that great things required great rewards. And when they stood up one by one to shake my hand, ending with the CEO who handed me a six figure bonus check (of which the first digit was bigger than a 1) and called it a token of their appreciation - I was, for lack of a better description, floored. 

We were on cloud nine when the following day our offer, with more cash money down than we'd ever thought possible, for our "McDonald's House" was accepted. To say that we were amazed when they accepted what we thought was a low ball offer would have been an understatement. For a while there we seemed to have that Midas touch - everything we touched turned to gold.

I'm not sure exactly when she started calling it the McDonald's house. Somewhere between when she first saw it and I first saw it she referred to it by that name. I thought the owners must have been named McDonald -- but something she said another time led me to think otherwise.

"Why do you keep calling it the McDonald's House?" I asked.

She looked at me, an enigmatic smile on her face, "Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun?" She spouted if off flawlessly, repeating the jingle heard so often on the radio.

I'm sure my puzzled expression told her I didn't comprehend her humor. 

She grinned and explained further, "You know --"The McDonald's House," like the hamburger, it has everything?"

I followed the dog back toward the door and was about to go inside when I heard a voice. I stopped, listening, and heard a female voice say what I thought was, "Like this?" In the pitch dark of the night, with voices reflected and projected off houses and rocks, the source of the voice was imprecise, the words not totally comprehensible. I stepped off the porch toward the driveway, stopping every few yards, listening for more. Gradually I walked toward the front of the house, stopping and listening, waiting for the enigmatic voices to again reach my ears. I reached the edge of the driveway where I could look across the small side road below to where I could see more neighbors' homes. Beyond that, over the tops of the neighbor's trees I could see towards the top of the next, yet higher, hill which rose another several hundred feet above us. Across the street and below me in the small valley, one complete house was visible - a two story Spanish, and parts of two otherwise nondescript California ranch homes. Above these, high on the hill, I could see the windows and outlines of a few other houses, but everything was still and dark at this time of the morning. 

The closest house belonged to our neighbors and acquaintances Janet and her husband Rob. I'd met Janet a couple of times, but had never seen Rob. Janet was quite pretty and "girl next door" sexy -- the very definition of a "MILF", a Mother I'd Love to Fuck, except that they had no kids. I'd seen her in her yard a few times, I'd offered a friendly wave as I saw her pulling out of their drive, but really had never had a conversation with her. Theirs was the two story Spanish style home; I could see the complete front and one side as well as part of the large patio and grassed yard behind from the driveway where I was slowly walking. 

The moon that was peeking over the hill was creating shadows from the trees between me and the street. Even on this, the moonlit side of my house, I was still in the dark, still unafraid of being seen. I stopped again, seeing nothing, then heard a male voice say "Oh yeah, Baby."

My ears told me it originated at the next neighbors over, just slightly downhill from Janet and Rob. A brick wall and the drop off created privacy from their Spanish style on the uphill side, and the next house on the downhill side from there was quite a way down the street -- but their back yard had only an illusion of privacy. Every other neighbor's view of that backyard was obstructed by the hill, the fence, or the house, but from the one spot - on my driveway where I was standing now - I could look down into that yard. This was a portion of my yard where no one would normally be, and except when standing exactly where I was, one wouldn't normally even know that it was possible to see -- or be seen - from either yard. It was a spot we passed through daily as we drove up or down the driveway, but looking across the edge of the hill wasn't what the driver was ever doing. I'm sure neither of the two in the backyard expected anyone to be standing where I was at that time of the night. 

The moonlight, reflecting off the swimming pool, made the back yard nearly as bright as day; two people were silhouetted against the glistening water. Seated on the side of the pool was a male, and standing close up in front of him, waist deep or more in the pool, was the neighbor's 18 year old daughter, Sara. From this distance it was virtually impossible to actually tell in the silhouetted view that I had, but I was instantly certain that either Sara was topless, or naked.

I'd spoken to Sara a few times, waved a few times, but otherwise didn't really know her. She always seemed to have shorts on which accentuated her long tanned legs. I noticed the spot where her parent's toy trailer was kept was empty; I surmised they must have taken their jet skis to the river for the weekend as they commonly did this time of year.

I heard a gagging sound, saw Sara pull back from between the legs of someone, hearing the voice that had caught my attention just moments before. "Not so deep, you don't have to gag yourself," he said. She leaned back forward, his cock, held in her hand, had appeared when she pulled back, once again disappearing as she moved forward and fellated him some more. 

I watched, seeing her head move up and down, his hand stroking her hair, occasionally moving down to where I knew he must be fondling her teenage breasts, but really I couldn't see as it was in the shadow of their own bodies. I thought how just a few months previously that Debs would have enjoyed seeing and hearing with me what I was seeing and listening to now. I would have gone in, woken Debs and told her to come quietly -- to see and listen to our young neighbor and her boyfriend. We'd have listened and watched, fondled each other -- maybe even done exactly what we were witnessing, and then retired to our bedroom and done it ourselves. Aroused by the unexpected sex display below us, we would have gone back to our bedroom and had wonderful, hot, adventuresome sex of our own. 

But not tonight; tonight - it didn't arouse me at all.

"Oh yeah, Baby. That's so good, so good," I heard. Something about the wall above them and the hillside behind created an amplifier effect. Although they were virtually whispering to each other, I wouldn't have heard them any better if I'd been standing next to them. As she moved and the light split their united shadowy figure into two, I could see the young man's hands were on her obviously naked breasts; his fingers playing with her nipples and breasts while she sucked his cock. 

I looked down at myself, my cock as limp as it had been every day for the previous few months. Despite my own lack of arousal from the voyeuristic scene being played out before me, I continued to stand, watching and listening to the neighbor girl and her boyfriend.

"Oh yeah, Baby. Suck it. Yeah, that's so good." 

He continued with telling her how good she was, his voice rising, the whispers getting louder and more frequent as he neared an orgasm. I saw his hands move from her breasts to her head, holding it, pumping it up and down on his cock. His sudden "Ungh" accentuated his climax. Sara turned, I heard her spit.

"You jerk! You said you'd tell me before you came."

"I know, baby -- I mean... It just happened, I just couldn't control it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cum in your mouth. I know how you said you hate that." I turned and walked away.

Back inside, I climbed into bed. Samson circled once, twice, finally settling onto his pillow with a loud "humph." I lay in the dark on my back, knowing that sleep was once again gone for the night. I finally rolled over and checked the clock; 2:45 am. 

My mind went back to Sara and her boyfriend, remembering what it was like to be young and as full of lust as they were - remembering the times that Debs had awoken me in the middle of the night by sucking my cock to hardness so we could play. Debs' sleep pattern was such that she'd always go into a sound sleep to begin with, if I didn't get to bed before her she'd often be deep asleep before I climbed into bed. But after several hours her deep sleep would ease so that seemingly minor things might awaken her, or maybe that's when she was just horniest. Regardless, two, sometimes three nights a week, she'd awaken me and we'd make love in the middle of the night. 

Sometimes rather than waken me, she'd masturbate; long, slow, sensuous self-stimulation until she came. Sometimes her self pleasuring would awaken me, and when it did I'd take over for her, fingering her until she came. She always appreciated that, my giving her what she needed with nothing asked in return. Sometimes when she'd wake me she'd ask me to use my tongue on her, but often she liked to get me hard and then climb on top where she had better control than when I was on top. With her on top we'd both cum, when I was on top often I'd cum too fast and I'd have to pay extra attention to her to get her off. 

We'd had our hard spots through the years, as every couple does, however sex was never an issue for us. She loved sex as much as I did, wasn't hesitant to ask for what she wanted, and never hesitated to participate in what I wanted. Outwardly the perfect conservative Mom when the kids had been around -- but she'd been a hot mama when they weren't. We were married when she was just 17, a week after her graduation. She'd have been 37 if she'd lived until her upcoming birthday. 

The last year before she died, with the kids in college, it had been almost like we were on a honeymoon again. We'd made love in every room of the house. We'd done it on the deck at midnight, overlooking the valley. We'd done it in the pool, in fact now that I thought about it, I remembered just the week before she died she'd stood between my legs in our pool, similarly to what I'd just seen Sara doing, sucking me hard so we could do it again. 

She'd gone out bowling that evening. Along with the 3 other friends they had a regular Wednesday night women's bowling league. Usually they got back about 10:30 so I really wasn't worried at all. But then, unexplainably, a sense of dread came over me; a feeling I couldn't explain, a feeling I couldn't understand. When the house phone rang about 11:30 I knew my Debs wasn't coming home even before I answered. 


Awake



The runaway semi-truck reached the intersection just as they did, the bumper coming through the window, breaking her neck instantly, catching the door post and spinning the car nearly in a complete circle so it ended up against the curb on the wrong side of the street as if it had been parked there. From the driver's side, the car looked normal. From the passenger side -- the car was totaled. The truck, the truck driver, as well as her girlfriend who had been driving the car, were totally unhurt - at least physically. Emotionally she was a wreck of course, but physically Debs girlfriend had not even so much as a scratch.

I rolled onto my side in bed, once again sliding my hand into the cold abyss that was her side, but she still wasn't there. I sighed, knowing that my Debs would never again be there -- but it didn't keep me from wishing. As my hand reached for her spot, my nose came against the pillow case and it dawned on me that I hadn't washed the sheets since she died; just another thing that Debs always took care of. There were a lot of things that Debs took care of that I'd been ignoring for weeks.

Sleep was gone; there was no sense in fighting it. I got up, stripped the bed, and put the sheets in the washer. It was practically the first normal thing I'd done since it happened. The kids had come home from college for the funeral, but had to go back soon as for some reason school and life didn't stop. At least they had their school to immerse themselves in; all I had was a painfully empty McDonald's house. Some McDonald's house,  I thought to myself, it's got everything but its heart and soul. Now it's more like "Wendy's -- Where's the beef?" 

I walked back into the bedroom from putting the sheets in the laundry, stepping into the master bathroom and stopped to look at myself. I looked terrible, being charitable in the appraisement. I hadn't had a haircut in over three months. I wasn't bald yet, but there was definitely a shine on top. I hadn't shaved in nearly three weeks -- why bother? A few wisps of silver were showing on the hairs on my chest, matching the ever increasing amount on the sides of my head. 

I thought back to the morning of the day she died. I'd gotten up at my normal time to get ready for work. I'd taken my shower and was standing naked, as I was now, in front of the sink and mirror getting ready to shave. She'd woken and had come up behind me, also naked. Slipping her arms around me, she'd just hugged against me while I shaved and we talked.

"I love hugging you." She said, her hands playing with the hair on my chest. I knew immediately she was feeling amorous, but I ignored her as I continued to shave. Eventually her hands began to stray, finding my nipples and tweaking them.

"That's not exactly hugging," I chided her. "Are you trying to start something?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not really. But if you keep this up, I'll be late for work." One of the benefits of my new position was that I didn't really have to be there at a fixed time, I wouldn't really be late. The matching drawback was that unlike any previous job -- I didn't necessarily get off at a fixed time either.

"Do you mind?" she repeated. 

"Do I ever?" I answered.

Her hands slid down to my already half hard cock, caressing it with her hands as her breasts rubbed against my back. "That's not exactly hugging either," I told her, finishing up my shave, removing the last bit of stubble from my chin. She ignored me.

"I think I should shave your back for you. It tickles." 

"I think you need to pull those nipples back in so they don't get tickled," I teased back. 

I turned around, pulling her to me, kissing her hard while spinning us both around so her back was to the bathroom counter. I lifted slightly until she was sitting on the counter. I pulled away from our kiss, running my mouth down her chest, suckling each breast momentarily before continuing down between her legs. 

"I always end up with your hair between my teeth," I told her as I stretched my tongue out flicking her clit with it, "How about you shave your pussy for me?" Her feet braced on the drawers, her legs spread wide, I knelt on the floor between them and proceeded to feast on her pussy and juices until she'd cum, then I rose and slipped into her.

"Oh God, Jim, you feel so good." Her feet came off the board, her legs wrapping around me, trying to pull me into her. The harder she pulled with her legs, the harder I tried to stay out of her, teasing, just the head of my now rock hard cock in the mouth of her pussy.

"Do me," she begged. "Please?" 

"Or what?" 

"Or I'll go crazy."

"Too late. You're already crazy."

"I'm crazy for you." With that I relented and slipped to the hilt, pumping slowly several times. I stopped, buried deeply in her and thumbed her clit.

"How do you know just exactly what to do?" she asked and moaned a little "Umm" of pleasure, her eyes closed. I stopped, and her eyes opened. 

"You're teasing." I grinned, and acted like I was going to pull out and walk away. 

"Gotta go, I'm late for work." Her ankles crossed behind my back, forcing me to stay.

"Be late. I want you." I resumed my movements in and out of her dripping pussy.

I sighed. "Oh I suppose, if I must. My lady needs servicing; all she ever wants me for is my cock." I grinned, but she didn't see, her eyes had closed again. 

I stopped again, and her eyes reopened. "Well?" I questioned. "How about it, will you shave for me?" She'd shaved once for a few weeks, years before it was the popular thing to do, but she claimed it was too itchy as her pubes began to grow back. She didn't say anything, so I sweetened the pot. "Oral sex, any time, day or night -- all you have to do is ask".

"But you'll give me that anyway." She answered. I began to pull out again, and again her legs tightened around me. "Why should I?" she continued, doing her best to hold me inside her.

"Because you know I'd like it." 

"Because you'd like what?"

"Licking you, eating you, making you cum with my tongue," and after a short pause, "and because I asked?"

She stuck her tongue out and grinned. "Ok, but if I do you do. The only way you'll ever eat a naked pussy again is if you do."

"Do what?" I asked, again sliding into her.

"Shave."

I pulled away from the counter taking Debs with me, still impaled on my cock, and walked her to the bed where I unhooked her legs from around me, doubling her over and put her legs over my shoulders. Leaning against the underside of her legs, I began to pump in and out.

"Shave...what?" I managed to grunt out.

"Every... thing. Your chest... your back... Oh... legs... Ahhh, God... your arms," she said, her hands gripping my arms to urge me deeper and harder into her as we both approached orgasm; "your cock." 

"It's...a....deal," I answered. She arched her back, forcing her clit into my motions, and moments later we came together. 

~

I ran a bowl of hot water, lathered up and grabbed my razor. Not even thinking about the fact that it hadn't been used in weeks, I started with my neck, and immediately took a huge nick. Blood mixed with the soap, turning red, running down my neck. I splashed water on my face to remove the soap, but the blood returned immediately. Looking in the mirror, blood running down my neck, onto my chest, I thought "Why bother?" and suddenly found myself with tears running from my eyes. The more I tried to control myself, the harder I cried. Sinking to the floor, my head in my hands, I sobbed uncontrollably over the loss of my beloved wife.

I'd held myself together for weeks. Our neighbors and friends, at first, bringing dinner by, stopping in, asking about me, had given me something concrete to hold onto. But of course that inevitably slacked off. Now all I got was an occasional phone call asking how I was doing, the sum total of all the interaction I was having with the non-working world in those phone calls. I really wasn't getting along fine of course; the real answer was "Miserable." But I always answered with an "Oh Fine; it's taken some getting used to, but I'm getting along." 

I was, however, merely surviving.

I don't know how long I sat there feeling sorry for myself, mixing tears and blood on my chest; feeling alone in the world after over twenty years of sharing everything with someone, someone special. Suddenly Samson licked me in the face, neck, and chest; cleaning the bloody hair on my chest with his tongue. I pushed him away at first, just as I'd been pushing everything away for the last few months. Finally relenting, I pulled him to me, sobbing now on his neck while holding my arms tightly around him. That's the good thing about a dog, no matter how upset you are, they still love you.

When I finally controlled my sobbing I felt totally spent, and surprisingly relaxed and clear headed for the first time in weeks. I took a wash cloth and cleaned the now mostly dried blood from my face, replaced the old razor blade with a new one and proceeded to shave my face. Afterwards my chin, with the exception of a rather large piece of toilet paper affixed to a nick that still oozed, was clean. Above it an unkempt mop still taunted me. 

I opened what had been her drawer, and found her electric razor. I plugged it in and turned it on, standing and looking for just a moment deciding whether I really wanted to do this or not, then just began shaving. I started at the front of my head, shaved myself bald and continued right on down. My chest, my arms, my cock and balls and right on down my legs. Everything I could reach I shaved clean. Afterward, I took my regular razor and did myself again until I was totally hairless and smooth everywhere except my back, my armpits and my eyebrows. 

Standing in front of the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I looked years younger. No more wisps of grey taunting me to remind me that 50 was just around the corner. Once again I had the same hairless chest that I'd had as a young teen. The cock and balls that also hadn't been hairless since before I was a teen -- now looked somehow larger, even in a flaccid state. As I moved, the air seemed to caress my naked scalp, my skin, my cock. It was as if I'd opened myself to the world, and the world caressed me in return. Remembering the warm pool water, I suddenly had the urge to go swimming. 

I slipped into the silent pool, the waterfall having automatically turned off for the night several hours before. The bright moon, now directly overhead, lit the pool; I could see a few leaves and a dirty bottom from where I'd been ignoring regular maintenance activities. They weren't going to hurt me tonight -- I let them be, slipping underwater and pushing off from the wall.

The rush of water across my naked head was a sensual explosion. Water rushed past my ears, along my belly and legs, across my cock and balls. I felt tingly everywhere, the water, unfiltered by hair, seeming to wrap around me like a glove. I reveled in the sensation, rolled over into a back float and closed my eyes. Arms raised high to the sides to keep my leaden feet from dragging my body upright in the water, I drifted until my head, almost imperceptibly, touched the side. Opening my eyes, I found the sky vaguely lightening, the moon still bright but not so much the celestial spot light as before. Realizing I'd almost fallen asleep - or perhaps I had -- I went back into the bedroom and crawled onto the naked bed, pulling just the blanket over me and for the first time in weeks fell sound asleep. 

It was after noon when I awoke again, this time because I'd become too hot and sweaty under the covers with the increasing temperature of the day. Something about my now mostly hairless body, sweating from the heat of the day, and the smell of blanket that should have been changed weeks before pushed me into action. I took the blanket and put it into the washer, moving the now wet sheets and pillow cases into the dryer. Opening the door to the pool area, I ignored my nakedness in the totally private yard and stepped outside.

Walking up to the pool, I realized it was in much worse condition than I'd been able to ascertain in the pale moonlight at 3 am. The automatic pool sweeper was clogged with leaves, algae was beginning to appear on the pool sides. I pulled out the test kit and checked the chemistry, added acid as needed to bring the PH back into balance, and cleaned the skimmer. I added algaecide and turned the chlorinator on high. Starting the filter pump, I could tell from the pressure that the filter also needed cleaning so I began backwashing the filter. Finally I got the steel brush out and began working my way around the pool, scrubbing the sides, returning the pool to its normally pristine state. With the pool now clean and appealing in the sunlight and me now even hotter from the active work I'd done, I put the tools down and climbed into the pool myself to cool down before putting everything away and heading back indoors. 

Pushing off underwater, I swam from one end to the other before surfacing and swimming back, doing a surface crawl. I climbed out using the stairs at the far end, sweeping the excess water from my skin with my hands before turning around and immediately coming to a standstill -- shocked at finding my neighbor Janet standing in the walkway between me and the house, watching me.

She had a pitcher of iced tea in one hand, two glasses in the other, a bag draped over her arm. Now standing facing her, nude, without so much as a towel to cover myself -- there was nothing that I could do, except to ignore the fact that I was nude, which is exactly what I did.

"Hello Janet. Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone," I said, in so doing acknowledging that my nudity was perhaps a bit unusual. 

"It's my fault, I should have called."

"It's ok; I'm not bothered if you're not." I saw her eyes dip to my crotch, my now hairless crotch, as I approached. 

"Debs told me that you guys liked to swim naked; if I'd thought about it I'd have just called first." She held up the pitcher and glasses a bit higher, "I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing. Would you like some iced tea?"

"Sure, that sounds nice," I said stepping onto the concrete patio beside her, "I'd better grab some pants."

"Oh that's ok, it doesn't bother me any... I mean...," I glanced over at her, and saw her eyes rising again from my crotch to my face, a blush coloring her cheeks. So that's what a woman feels like having a man looking at her breasts rather than her face,  popped into my mind. I almost ignored her statement, feeling it was more of a nicety than a statement that she meant, but something about the moment made me pause. My eyes caught hers, she knew I'd caught her sizing me up, and she flushed. 

"Ok, as long as you don't mind."

The patio table was just in the sun, I moved it into the shade, pulled a chair over for Janet, and then stepped into the laundry room for a towel. Stepping back out, I pulled another chair into the shade near Janet, spread the towel on the chair and sat down myself. "This is nice," I said, taking a glass and lifting it in a toast. "To what do I attribute this act of kindness?"

"Just being friendly, I made some tea up and thought you might like sharing a glass, and thought maybe I could bribe you into letting me borrow the pool for a swim?"

"Well, I don't think you can borrow it, your bag's just a little too small to carry it -- but you're more than welcome to go for a swim." I grinned, and she poured a glass of tea for both of us.

"I haven't seen you in quite a while."

I nodded and took a sip of my tea. "I haven't felt like going out much the last couple of months." She nodded; we didn't say anything for a few moments."

"So how are you doing?" 

It's the same first question that I'd heard from everyone for weeks. For the person that I'm greeting for the first time in ages it's an attempt to find out my mental state and what is happening to me. For me, the person living through the nightmare, it's just another rerun on the skipping record that had been my life for several months. I started answering as I always did, I told her all about the insurance hassles, having taken a leave of absence from work, and how it seemed like everyone in the world had been by the first few weeks.

"Yes, of course, but how are you doing? 

I just sat for a minute, and then it all began spilling out. How I'd had so many visitors that I hadn't had time to really accept what had happened, that it was just the last few days that I'd finally begun to really understand what it meant to be alone; how I'd finally had time to think about the future together that would never happen, how our future grandkids would never get to know their grandmother. Unspoken was that I'd finally begun to grieve.

She just let me talk. When the glass ran dry she poured us another glass while I went in and brought out some more ice. I watched her eyes flick down my body, up to my head and then back to my eyes as I approached.

"You look good bald," she said as I sat back into my chair. "How long has that been?"

"Not long," I answered, looking at my watch. "9 or 10 hours."

"Since, uh, early this morning?" She paused, doing the math in her head. "What was it, like 3 am?" I nodded.

"You got up at 3 am and shaved your head? What in the world caused you to do that?'

I just looked at her for a moment. Did I just make up some story -- or tell her the truth? I decided that the truth was easier. "Debs asked me to."

"Huh? I don't understand."

It actually wasn't hard telling her about it. I told the whole thing; how it was the morning that she died, making love, teasing and yet complaining at the same time that I often ended up with a pubic hair in my mouth, how the one period that she'd shaved had been so nice for oral sex, how she'd said she would if I would. "The dog woke me up and had to go out and I just couldn't go back to sleep. I saw myself in the mirror, hadn't shaved in weeks, and once I started, I just kept going."

"It looks good, you look good without hair," she said, and then stopped -- realizing what she'd said and blushed. 

I nodded, acknowledging both her compliment and her embarrassment. "It's amazing swimming, I felt the water where I've never noticed it before. It's like the water caresses you everywhere, whereas before, there was hair everywhere filtering the experience." I emptied the glass of tea, glanced across at Janet's, finding it almost empty also. "Time for a swim, or more tea?"

"I'd really like a swim. I was doing some gardening this morning, and it got so hot, I thought a swim sounded really good."

"The water's perfect," I said, standing up and reaching down for my towel. "Let's go."

I turned and stepped up the walkway towards the shallow end of the pool, Janet following behind. "You needed help with your back, didn't you?" She said as I reached the bench to put my towel down. "If you've got a razor I can clean that up for you."

"What's that?" I asked, futilely attempting to turn my head over my shoulder to look at my own back.

"Right here," she answered, stepping up behind and drawing a circle with her finger, touching the very center of my back, where I hadn't been able to shave the hair off. 

"Ok, thanks. We'll get it later," I answered stepping into the pool. I turned into a back float, watching Janet as she peeled her top and shorts off, revealing a flowered bikini. Dropping her clothes on the bench, she turned and stepped down into the pool. 

"What, not going skinny dipping with me?" She glanced up and smiled wryly at me in response.

"Maybe some afternoon when you're not here," she answered.

"What's the fun in that?" I teased. She ignored me.

We swam around for several minutes, gradually working back to the steps where we ended up sitting neck deep while we sat and talked. It wasn't long before I found myself reiterating everything that had happened, and everything that hadn't, since the accident. When she started standing up and said she really needed to get back, her nursing assistant needed a break, I couldn't help but ask, "What do you need a nursing assistant for?" 




Awake



She looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression before answering, "She helps with Rob, of course."

"Oh, has he been sick?" I asked, "I don't think I've ever met him." I knew Debs had talked several times with Janet, every week or two, but she'd never mentioned, never said anything, about Rob being sick. It flashed through my mind that it had been several months now that I'd been out of communication with the real world, but had never seen any indication that someone in their household was ill.

"You don't know?" Her face gave her away, there was something that I should have known, but didn't.

"Know what?"

"Rob is a quadriplegic. He broke his neck at work 3 years ago and has been confined to a bed ever since."

I'm sure my mouth fell open.

"Janet, I'm so sorry -- I had no idea." Any thoughts of how bad my life was, the hardships of living a life without my beloved Debs suddenly paled at the thought of what it must be for Janet, living a life with someone that can't ever do anything for himself again. 

With her few words, my self-pitying suddenly disappeared. No matter how bad it felt, I was still alive. I still had a life to live, kids and grandkids and old age still to look forward to. Suddenly I realized the malaise that had been ruling my life for weeks was all self-imposed. No matter how bad I thought I had it, others - others that lived physically quite close to me - had it worse.

We continued talking, this time with her telling me how she'd lived with, and learned to cope with, a major loss. When she again said she needed to go, I stood first and led the way.

"If you've got that razor, I really will clean your back up for you." 

I dried off and then wrapped my towel around myself before leading Janet into the house. I hadn't expected guests and mentally appraised the back of the house as I led her down the hall. Not up to Debs' standards, but at least with the bed stripped, it looked like I was making an effort to take care of it and myself. Maybe I should consider hiring a housekeeper, I thought to myself observing a layer of dust on the book cabinets. 

"It's got a new blade," I said, handing her the razor from beside the sink where I'd left it hours earlier.

"Shaving cream?" 

"Oh yeah, right here." I reached under the sink, bringing out the container and handing it to her. Turning my back to her, I watched in the mirror as she put a dab on her fingers, and then spread it onto my back. Finding it too dry, I moved aside slightly and she wet her fingers, applying water to my back as well. 

I watched in the mirror as she methodically shaved my back, starting at my shoulders and working downward. I'd gotten near the edges, but apparently not evenly as she did my entire back. Every couple of strokes she stopped and rinsed the razor under running water. 

The towel that I'd wrapped around me had started tight, but with moving into the house and now standing, I'd felt it loosening up, slipping further down. I hitched it up at one point, not realizing I was getting it up into the lather that she'd spread on my back. As she reached my lower back she pushed the top of the towel down an inch or so, and that's all it took to break the last of its hold on my body, dropping to the floor and leaving me once again naked in front of my neighbor. 

"Sorry," I said, making no effort to retrieve the errant towel. Watching Janet's face in the mirror, I saw her eyes flash momentarily to the reflection of my body in the mirror, and then revert to my back. A slight blush appeared on her face again.

"It's alright," she responded, her eyes staying away from the mirror for the moment. She'd reached the top of my butt with the razor and apparently having reached the end of her mission, stooped and retrieved the towel. Taking a corner of the towel and wiping my back, she started at my shoulders moving down. When she reached my butt, she didn't stop above it, but wiped down onto the upper curve. Pulling the towel away with her right hand, she reached out and gently swatted my naked butt with her left. "Here you go, all done."

It was a needless swat, really just a pat. But -- that swat, the first woman's hand on my body in months, the cute little blushes when I'd seen her looking at me; looking at my naked junk -- and suddenly I felt a tingling where I hadn't found any sexual feelings in months. Once she was done, that one swat on the tush, and Janet held out the towel for me to take and said, "I've gotta go, I shouldn't have been gone this long." I walked her to the door, told her thanks for the iced tea and company and to stop over and go swimming any time.

With my self-pitying and malaise suddenly put on hold, if not totally gone, I began to see my surroundings as they were; in pretty miserable condition. I spent the rest of the afternoon housecleaning -- something that literally hadn't been done in months. I buried myself in cleaning the house. 

The following day, the house back in order, I opened my laptop for the first time in weeks. I figured I'd spend a few minutes getting organized before going back to work, but had no idea how many e-mails awaited me. It felt good to be doing something and I realized it was time to go back to work. My hurt wasn't gone -- it would never be gone -- but it was time to move on with my life.

Immersing myself in the myriad problems that had been awaiting me at work took some of the sting away. Staying at work long hours also took the misery of going home to an empty house away. Within days I was back in a routine -- rising early, doing my workout, starting with my laptop at home while waiting for the rush hour traffic to ease up, and then off to work until late in the evening. Returning home, I'd feed the dog, box his ears, and go to bed to do it again the next day. 

It was days later before I heard from Janet again. She called my cell phone, asked if it was OK for her to come over and go swimming. I told her I was at work, but she was welcome to go over and use the pool whenever she wanted. She thanked me, and when I got home that night I found a note on the door, "Water was great! Thanks, J"

It turned out to be the first of many notes from Janet; once or twice a week I'd come home and find a note on the door indicating she'd been there. On weekends and evenings, I'd get a call, but it was actually several weeks later before I was actually at home when she called. I told her to come on over, and then went and put on a swimsuit.

"I thought you always went skinny dipping?" she asked when I came out to join her beside the pool.

"I know, I didn't have to," I answered, stepping down into the pool. "Debs and I just always made it a rule to do what our guests were up for. If they liked skinny dipping, we liked skinny dipping. If they liked clothes, so did we."

"You, um... didn't need to wear a swimsuit on my account," she said as we headed up the steps to the pool. Something about the way she said it told me she was actually disappointed.

"And you're not going naked either," I countered, realizing as I did that once again my body was responding to my neighbor, feeling a sexual awakening that had been missing for several months. No sooner had the thought passed through my head than I forced it away. Debs and I had played, but we'd never been unfaithful with each other. I recognized that I was attracted to my neighbor, but there was no way I wanted an affair with her -- no way I wanted her to be unfaithful with her husband.

"So if I decided to go skinny dipping, you would too?"

"Yes." I didn't put any accent on it, just answered simply.

"Oh." She dropped her shirt on the bench along with her bag and we moved into the pool. 

"It's not that I'm against swimming naked," she started hesitantly a few moments later while treading water in the deeper end, "It's just that I'm not sure about being naked with another man. I've not been naked with anyone but my husband since we got married."

"Have you ever been skinny dipping?"

"Just as a kid." I dropped the subject. I'd said all I needed to.

~

It was a Wednesday morning when the call came in. After a while, you just know, you have that feeling, that someone is in real trouble and it's going to take a field service engineer to troubleshoot the equipment. I'd been back to work several weeks, mostly getting caught up on what had been left for me while I was gone.

The trouble with really reliable equipment is the Maytag Repairman Syndrome. The people that own it and are supposed to be able to fix it, can't -- because it never breaks down enough for them to be proficient on the repairs. Really unreliable equipment is almost always fixed easily and rapidly by the locals -- because they have to do it all the time. Really reliable equipment is our hallmark, consequently when a real trouble comes along that can't be fixed locally or over the phone, I have to pack up and hit the road. It took about two hours for everyone to agree that it needed to happen, so it was just after noon when I arrived at the house to get ready. Pulling up into the driveway, I sat in the car with the air conditioner running while I finished a conference call. Five minutes later, I shut the engine off and walked down to the gate and entered the yard -- surprised Samson wasn't at the gate to great me.

I stepped down the walkway to where I could look over the pool, and stopped. 

Samson was stretched out next to the pool, totally oblivious to my arrival. Normally he'd have been down near the front door where he'd have heard me arrive, but he really is a people dog -- he wants to be where the people are -- and in this case, he was lying at the head of one very naked woman sunning herself on a towel spread on the sidewalk next to the pool. It was the same location that Debs used to layout when she sunned herself, but this wasn't Debs.

From where I stopped, I couldn't at first tell who this naked creature was. With a five step difference in elevation, her body was about as high as my chest. Lying face down, her legs spread comfortably, I had a perfect view between her legs; dark colored labia accenting her pale skin, a perfect curve of a bottom. Her arms were crossed under her head, her elbows and the top of her head visible beyond the curve of her bottom. Caught by surprise, I didn't at first even think about who this was -- but almost immediately realized it had to be Janet.

No sooner did I take a step onto the stairs than Samson heard me and jumped up, running over to greet me. Janet didn't move when he jumped up, but when I dropped to one knee to scratch his ears and Samson whined, she sat up to look back at where Samson was and find out why he whined, only to find me on one knee, scratching Samson but looking at her. 

A sharp startled intake of breath and Janet rolled over, pulling the towel with her, and trying to cover herself from my admiring view. She wasn't immediately successful, the towel being under her meant that essentially she had to first totally expose herself before she could cover herself from my view. She had to get completely off the towel, and in doing so she rolled onto her bottom and the concrete, then back to her knees facing away from me before she finally got the towel free. A large beach towel, she easily wrapped it around herself, once again all the fun bits covered from my eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, but I wasn't expecting company." 

"I didn't know you were going to come home. I think I fell asleep."

"You did, your back and bottom are pink," I observed, even though she was now facing me. "You need to get some aloe on that so you don't peel. Have you got some?" 

"I don't think so," she answered. 

"That's ok, I'm sure we do, I'll look." I glanced at the pool, and back to her. "I normally take a swim when I get home -- mind if I join you before I do?" 

She glanced at the bench near the steps of the pool, my eyes followed, seeing her clothes where she'd taken them off. "Jim, I, um..." she started, painful embarrassment evident in her voice.

"You don't have a swimsuit. Yeah -- I figured that," I finished for her as I walked by, stopping at the bench to lean on it and began pulling my shoes off. "I wondered if you'd been skinny dipping over here when I wasn't around. 

"There was never anyone home...," she weakly protested.

"Of course not, I was at work." I glanced up at her as I pulled my polo shirt over my head, "It's alright Janet -- you already know I go naked most of the time."

"I know, but I didn't intend to be naked while you were here." 

I slipped my pants off, turning to face the bench when I did, and turned back seconds later, now naked. She really tried to keep her eyes on my face, but they flicked down for one quick second at my now naked body as she checked me out. She knew that I saw her check me out -- a quick flush of pink appeared on her cheeks. I didn't hesitate, just turned and stepped into the water, "coming?"

She was standing looking at me, the extra-large beach towel now wrapped around her torso hiding her body from my view. I didn't stare, just did a crawl to the far end and returned. "I think I better not," she stated half-heartedly.

"Why?"

She shook her head slowly back and forth, seemingly to convince herself that she shouldn't, but yet her body language said otherwise. "I haven't... been naked... around a man other than my husband..."

I shrugged my shoulders and wiped the water from my face. "Suit yourself." I turned and began to walk up the stairs. "Let me get that aloe for you or you're really going to regret it later." 

"You don't need to," she answered, "I think I'll be alright...."

I stepped up to my clothes and picked them up, holding them out from my body so as to not get them wet. Reaching into my pants pocket I pulled out the house key, walking right by her. "You will regret it, believe me. You're more than just a little pink -- how long were you here, anyway?" I didn't stop walking, just continued to the laundry room door and opened it.

"I think about 45 minutes, I didn't intend to fall asleep, it's just that Rob was sick all night so I was up with him and I didn't get any sleep at all. I took a dip and lay down for just a minute..."

Setting my clothes down, I grabbed a towel and swished it over my body, turning back to answer her through the open door. "And 45 minutes later you're well on the way to being a lobster. I'll be right back." Turning back into the house I searched for the aloe, eventually finding it under what had always in my mind been "Debs sink" in the master bathroom. 

Returning through the open laundry room door, I found that Janet was now neck deep in the pool. "You're right, the cool water feels really good on my back."

"Told you so," I responded as I walked up beside the pool. Looking down into the pool as I was the water did little to hide her naked body from my view but I don't think she realized it. Putting the aloe bottle and my towel where my clothes had previously been, I stepped around her towel that sat in a heap beside the steps and reentered the water myself. 

"See -- I told you. Go skinny dipping once and you never want to wear a swimsuit again."

She giggled and blushed, "Yeah. When I realized you'd gone back to work, I've been skinny dipping every time I've been here on weekdays. I just never expected you to come home during the week."

I explained that it was unusual; that I had an early evening flight to catch so had come home to pack and get ready. We floated and talked for about 15 minutes before she asked what time it was. With a look of regret she stated that she had to go, the nurse assistant was scheduled to be off in just a few minutes. "I need to get packed and ready to go, too," I answered, nodding my head in agreement. Turning, I moved to the pool steps, climbing out and heading to my towel. Picking it up, I wiped my face and turned, finding Janet still neck deep in the water. "Coming?"

She didn't answer immediately as she moved closer to the steps and into shallower water. "Will you turn your back please?" 

"Of course," I responded, turning my back to her and the pool, wiping the rest of my body. With no body hair, my skin almost instantly dried with just a little wiping. Dropping the now wet towel into a pile on the seat I picked up the aloe bottle and opened the top. 

"Ok, you can turn around." Bottle in hand, I turned toward her and the pool, finding she'd once again totally wrapped the towel around her torso. 

"Turn around," I ordered, and she did, reaching up and pulling the hair off the back of her neck and dropping her head. I began to spread the aloe on her shoulders which elicited a sharp "ouch" and shiver from her.

"I guess I did get burned." I smoothed the aloe as far as the top of the towel, getting her shoulders and backs of her arms before I reminded her I needed to see her backside, that I couldn't put it on through the towel. She hesitated a moment, and then released one end of the towel, pulling it up in front of herself as the other end fell and unwrapped, leaving her backside totally naked before me.

I said nothing, not wanting to embarrass her any further, just continued to rub the aloe into her back, moving lower until I reached her bottom. I didn't hesitate when I got to her bottom, just rubbed the aloe across her buns. She works out, I thought, admiring the tight firmness of her bottom. Dropping to one knee, I put a large blob of aloe into one hand and set the bottle onto the ground before rubbing my hands together and started working down her legs. Finished, I stood up, and remembering the swat she'd given my bottom when she'd shaved my back, I reached down and gave her bottom one gentle pat. "All done."

She didn't say anything, and sensing her reluctance to be totally nude around me, I just stepped over and took my towel and the aloe bottle and headed for the laundry room entrance once again. Stepping inside, I found a pair of my running shorts and pulled them on. When I stepped back out, Janet was facing away from me with her shirt already on, and was just finishing buttoning up her shorts. She grabbed her towel and bag; I stepped forward and met her at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped one step up leaving us essentially face to face. 

She looked me in the eyes momentarily before saying, "Thanks for the aloe, Jim. I've really got to go." She leaned forward a bit, planted a light kiss on my cheek and continued moving toward the gate. I told Samson to stay, closing the gate behind her and watched for a moment as she headed for the driveway. She hesitated momentarily at the corner, and acted as if she was going to turn and say something, but continued and stepped out of sight.

Traveling was an old routine for me, although a routine unused for several months, it took me no time at all to get my "away pack" reset. Shaver and deodorant loaded along with a couple of changes of shirts and I was ready to go. I still had lots of time, but when traveling by air I'd always rather be there an hour early than an hour late. Moving my laptop and carry-on bag to the car, I returned to lock up when it dawned on me -- this was my first trip away without Debs at home to care for Samson. 

"Samson!" I called to the dog who obediently came running to get his ears scratched. "What am I going to do with you?" I thought of calling my sister, but she lived just far enough away and didn't have a secure yard -- it wouldn't work to take him there. I thought about trying to find a kennel at the last minute, but realized that if I did, I'd probably be that hour late to the airport that I so detest. With no other viable options, I rubbed Samson's ears once more. "Do you think Janet might feed you for a few days?"

Janet answered the door, and I posed my question of imposition. She didn't take it that way, saying she'd love to feed and water him. I gave her my spare house key, and instructions. I was about to leave when she said, "Have you got time to meet Rob?"  




Awake



I glanced at my watch, and with Samson now taken care of, I was again ahead of schedule. Janet took me into his room, introduced me and stepped away to do something else.

Rob turned out to be an amazing man. Sitting upright in a bed, constraints in place to keep his body from falling out, he almost seemed normal as I entered. It was all I could do to not stick out my hand and say "Pleased to meet you." Instead, he grinned and said "Forgive me if I don't rise and greet you, I'm feeling a bit out of sorts these days, but if you'd like to lean over we can always butt heads."

I laughed, and said something, to which he told me outright, "Gallows humor -- I now understand it fully. Nothing you can do, so you may as well make fun of yourself."

It turned out that after the accident Rob had been set up by his company with a fully automated electronic work station that he was more than willing to show me. With voice activated software, head controls for everything else, he was still a valuable asset -- just one that couldn't attend meetings in person. With a teleconference screen and phone set-up, it was only for personal necessities that he needed Janet or the nurse assistant for help. He'd never be able to be alone again in his life. Janet was there nights, a full time nurse assisted every day.

"Janet says she's been using your pool -- she's starting to get a pretty good tan, don't you think?" I was immediately wary -- she was beginning to get a nice light brown tone, but was there something hidden in this question? I didn't know, so answered truthfully.

"Yeah, I understand she's been up using the pool while I'm at work. I've found notes a couple of times."

His voice dropped a bit as he continued. "She seems to enjoy it; gives her someplace to go to for a while to get out of here. Even with a nurse assistant, she's my real caretaker, 24 hours a day. It's got to be very frustrating, giving up the rest of your life to take care of me. Do you know what the difference between me and a vegetable is?"

His fluid move into gallows humor caught me by surprise, and I gave the standard, "No, what?"

"I've got a mouth." I didn't think it all that funny -- but grinned anyway.

"Looks to me like you've found a way to be very productive," I said, waving my hand at the large computer screens and paraphernalia.

"I'm glad I got my education before this all happened, doing homework would have been a bitch," he laughed. 

I laughed with him. Glancing at my watch, it was time to go. Janet stepped back just as I said I had to leave, and I noticed she'd changed clothes. The blouse she was wearing dropped down between her boobs, displaying large amounts of tanned flesh. "Look at that tan!" Rob exclaimed, "Looking good, isn't she?"

"Oh stop it," Janet interjected -- I wisely didn't comment, instead saying again that I had to go. Janet showed me out, I told her to call if she needed anything. 

~

The beauty of caller ID is that it shows us what programmed into the memory of the phone we have. Sometimes what we think we know is misleading.

"Janet?" That's what showed on the screen, why should I think it was anyone else?

"No, it's Rob." Despite that except for two pats on the butt, and an underlying sexual tension that said that something could happen, it hadn't. But why did my heart do a flip-flop as if I had, we had, been doing something wrong? 

I suspected that perhaps Janet was interested in a little more than a neighborly relationship; I definitely found her attractive. It had been months since Debs was taken from me, for the longest time I hadn't even been interested in sex -- or at least I thought I wasn't. And then one night I'd awoken unexpectedly, having experienced something that hadn't happened since I was 14. The memory was as vivid as the puddle of semen on my belly, and it wasn't my deceased wife I was dreaming of sucking my cock. All of this passed through my mind in the split second between when he started talking, I recognized his voice, and I responded.

"Hey Rob, what's up?"

"Can you come over and see me? I'd like to talk for a bit."

I expected Janet to answer the door; instead it was the nurse assistant. She said that Janet was out, but led me into Rob's room. He asked her to close the door on the way out.

"What's up Rob?"

He didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed out the picture window that gave him his only real view on the outside world. "Sometimes when I look out there... and realize that I'm probably never going to see another view, another real view of anything else in my life...." The pause went from collecting thoughts to being a pregnant pause.

"Did you love your wife?"

"Are you kidding?" I couldn't believe the question at first and then realized it was serious. "Of course. She was my alter ego; she was the yin to my yang. Why?"

"What if she hadn't been killed outright? What if she'd been a quadriplegic like me? Would you still love her?"

"Of course." 

"Would you have given up everything to take care of her? Would you have given up your life, your future, to take care of her?" I realized there was deep import to his line of thought.

"I'd have gladly traded places with her," I said quietly, returning the intensity of his questions with an equally intense answer. "You can't think how many times I've cried, and begged God to wake me up from this nightmare, to make me realize that she's alive and I'm dead in her place."

He nodded. "Of course you would. You'd gladly give up your life for her to be alive, but that's not what I asked. If she'd been a quadriplegic, if she'd been stuck in a bed, never able to move again. If she'd been relegated to a life of never being able to move again without help, could you have done that? Could you have given up your life, your dreams, your hopes, to spend your days wiping her butt when she pooped? Helping a nursing assistant give her a sponge bath? Holding a bed pan under her chin when she's sick all night and throwing up?"

I thought about it before answering. Could I? Would I? There was no doubt. "Yes."

"Do you really realize what that means?"

I thought I did, I didn't even answer -- I just imagined the everyday, wake up and do it again routine. Could I do that? Yes, I was sure that I could but he interrupted my thoughts.

"You travel for work. When was the last time you ate at a restaurant? When was the last time that you saw something different? When was the last time you were able to sit down and have a conversation with someone -- and have it not be about your paraplegic wife? 

And what about the other things -- Janet says you go running nearly every morning -- you couldn't do that before someone was there to relieve you. What would you do for work? You'd need to continue to pay the bills, but how would you be able to do the traveling that your work requires if you had to be home every night? And what about other physical needs? When was the last time you had sex?"

His pause made me realize this wasn't the hypothetical questions of the last few minutes, this was a real question -- he asked a question and wanted an answer.

"The morning that Debs died." He nodded. 

"It was two days before the accident." I realized he was talking about himself, and by default, Janet.

"I don't get any reaction anymore. My tongue still works, although that's a bit of an adventure." He grinned wryly and continued, "But nothing works down below. I can't feel anything, I can't do anything. I know -- we tried." He paused a second, letting me think about what he'd said. "So what would you do? Debs is a quadriplegic, but your sex drive still works. Would you ask her to blow you? Position her in some awkward position so you could shove it in her mouth and get your rocks off? Would you try and fuck her anyway -- maybe use some KY jelly and tell her you still love her but just use her body for what it no longer does? Would you start going to prostitutes, or find a girlfriend that had needs too and you might fall for her and eventually leave Debs? And how would Debs feel; you being relegated to masturbating or sneaking out to get what she can't ever do for you again?"

I was taken aback. Obviously I hadn't thought of all the ramifications of what it meant to be stuck in a bed for the rest of your life. I hadn't thought of all the nuances of becoming a total care giver for another person. I sat and thought a bit, my mind gradually extrapolating to a conclusion.

"Where are you going with this, Rob?"

His look was all it took, it told me the conclusion that I'd already reached.

"I want you to fuck my wife."

"I can't do that, Rob. My response was instantaneous and just like before, not totally thought through. Playing together with others was one thing, having a committed relationship and sharing I could understand, but cheating with another man's wife, causing another man's wife to cheat? To me -- that was different. But yet, despite my instantaneous response, my mind began to churn. Who was it that I'd had a wet dream about? Was asking me to have sex with his wife any different than asking me to do anything else for her, or rather, for them? If he'd asked me to change the oil in his car, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. If he'd asked me to paint the house, I'd have done it -- or have helped to make the arrangements if I didn't have time, and even helped to pay for it if need be. If he'd asked me to come over and cook dinner for her because she was sick in bed -- I'd have been there. I didn't say anything, and neither did he, for several moments. He just let me churn through my thoughts.

"Why me?" Again he didn't respond instantly, but when he did -- it was well reasoned, well thought out.

"Why not?" He let me think but continued before I could respond. "You're currently single. You're close by, but yet you're not here all the time. You're apparently quite a dish -- at least according to Janet."

"She said that?"

"She did."

"When did she say that?" 

"When she told me that she'd found you skinny dipping and you'd stayed naked. She told me again when you found her sunbathing naked, and that you put aloe on her." 

"Really? She just told you that?"

"When I asked her what got her so horny that she'd broken out her vibrator and taken care of herself in mid-day, she told me that if you'd made a pass at her she would have been really tempted." Neither of us said anything, I just nodded.

"Look, Jim. I love my wife; she means the world to me. She's my heart and soul, but she's also too young to be a nun. I can't help her out in the sex department, but you can. I don't want you to fall in love with her and being, what, maybe 15 years older than her that's less of a risk than someone her own age. 

I know she's been going over to your house more and more often. I suspect that the day you caught her sunbathing wasn't quite as accidental as it seemed. Ever since she caught you skinny dipping, I know she's been going over, probably to try and catch you again. Whether you knew it or not, you've become her fantasy. 

You know, it took her probably 6 months after the accident before she started masturbating. She thought she was being discrete, but one of the things about not being able to move is that it makes you more aware of everything going on around you. I can hear it when she uses her vibrator, I hear a lot of things I never did before. She likes you, I like you as far as that goes."

I just looked at him, nodding in thought. This was totally foreign to anything I'd ever thought of before... Or was it? Hadn't Debs and I years before decided to help out friends, sexually help out friends -- that were in need of help? How was this any different? The thought popped in my head, and then another, more important.

"What about Janet? Doesn't she get a say in this? What if she doesn't want it?"

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "You're a good man, Jim. I know enough about my wife, all she needs is permission, and she's ready. We had a talk quite a few months ago, I told her that I couldn't be happy, knowing I was making her a nun. I told her I love her, and don't want to lose her, but if the opportunity comes along for having a bit more fulfilling life, she should go for it. I'm sure she will. Set it up, ask her to dinner and a movie and I'll make sure I'm covered here for the night." He paused momentarily and then said, "Just one more thing."

"What's that, Rob?"

"Don't take her from me?" His voice broke as he said it, and glancing closer I saw glistening in his eyes. "I love my wife."

"I know you do."

~

I felt like a kid in a candy store; I hadn't had a "first date" in years. I actually bought a new pair of slacks and a shirt (well -- not without help. I told the girl in the clothes store that I had a first date and wanted to look hot and she helped. I am an Engineer after all.) I made the reservations, checked it out with Rob that he knew we had a date (he did, and said Janet had actually made arrangements for the evening shift to be covered, but not to worry he wasn't expecting her back before morning.)

Janet looked fabulous. She wore a great looking dress that dipped down between her breasts, leaving ample flesh showing and me wondering whether she had a bra on underneath. She'd dressed to kill, looking every bit the Hot Wife -- it's just that she wasn't mine. I'd told her we were going to a nice place which turned out to be Mr. A's, a restaurant overlooking the harbor and downtown San Diego. 

Dinner was great; we took long enough that we missed the movie and just headed back home. We talked about Debs, we talked about Rob; we talked about how our lives were so much alike. When we pulled into the driveway and I offered her a nightcap; we both knew what I was really asking. 

Opening the front door I took her hand and led her to the living room. I'd left the lights on for when we got home, now I turned all the lights off except one so we could have the view from the living room but still see each other. We sat on the couch overlooking the valley, but I don't think we ever looked. When I bent my face to hers, she didn't hesitate, our first kiss was mutual. For the first time my hand slid up onto her breast, her hand went around my neck in response. When I slid my hand from her exposed cleavage under the top of the dress to fondle her bare breast, she moaned in approval, her nipple rising to my touch. Her hands were all over me, mine were roaming hers at the same time. When I slipped my hand onto her backside, feeling her bottom and her panties, she suddenly sat up. "Give me a minute, I'll be right back, but I have got to go to the bathroom." I realized that I did too; she went into the front bathroom while I went further back, but I still got back to the living room before she did.

When she returned, she slid onto the couch and back into my arms. Our kiss resumed, our hands stroking each other's bodies, seemingly increasing the temperature in the room but it was only in our bodies. This time when my hand slid onto her bottom, I recognized there were no longer any panties underneath. If there had been any doubt about how far this was going, she'd removed that doubt along with her panties. When my hand found her bottom, she pulled away from the kiss long enough to whisper, "don't you think you should undress me now?" I didn't need any further urging. 

Our clothes and our bodies ended up on the floor together. Although we were both raring for sex, we took time exploring further before we actually did it. 

When we were finally naked on the floor together, I pulled back on one elbow to examine the body that I'd just seen slightly in profile and through the water of the pool before. Janet's breasts were slightly larger than Debs had been, but although they were larger, they were still firm, without sag, explaining why I'd not been able to tell originally whether she was wearing a bra or not. Her stomach was hard, she obviously worked out regularly, and her pussy was shaved, but not totally. Her pussy lips, as I'd seen that day by the pool, were fairly large but hairless, while a small landing strip accented her belly above her pussy. When I slid a hand to her crotch, her legs spread, welcoming my fingers. Taking my time, I stroked and suckled her body, her hand slowly stroking my cock, until she whispered, "I'm ready."

Despite the length of time that it had been since I'd had sex, despite that this living doll underneath me was hot and wet and horny, I was able to hold off and not just come like a first time teenager. When I slipped inside, her hand guiding me into place, her legs rose and wrapped around mine. I began moving inside her, missionary, but sensed she wanted something harder. Putting my arms down I snagged her legs, and moving back a bit pulled them up over my shoulders. This time as I leaned back in, my cock didn't just slither into her wetness, it skewered her. "Oh God, Yes!" she moaned, almost doubled underneath me. The position, the friction, was good for me too, although I started coming before she did, I managed to keep it up long enough that she came before I collapsed, still inside her.

Our first time was just a start. We were both experienced lovers, and although she moved differently than my wife Debs had, the results were the same. It took just minor instructions for each of us to know what the other liked. I hadn't expected to get hard again as fast as I did, but seemingly just moments after our first, I found myself getting hard again to her touch. When she rolled over and presented me her ass, pulling up onto her knees, I slid into her from behind to do it doggie. Pulling up close, I reached around to finger her clit, only to find her hand already there. Instead I straightened up, grabbed her hips, slamming her bottom back against my belly again and again. When we collapsed back onto our sides, we did it sideways, later she rolled me over and climbed on, getting herself off again, but still we continued. Flipping her sideways, me on my knees, one of her legs extended between my own and holding her other leg upright against my chest, I levered myself in and out. She came a third time, and this time I came right behind her.

We never did get a drink of anything except each other. She never even questioned how when she said she needed to go home to relieve the assistant and I said to not worry, it was covered. Instead she took my hand and led me into my own bedroom. She didn't need to tell me what to do from there.

The sky was already light when I awoke. Sliding my hand towards Debs side of the bed in the way I had for years, instead of finding the normally cool sheets of the last few months, my hand instead encountered the smooth warm flesh of a woman. Befuddled at first, somehow in my partially awake state I knew that the bed was not supposed to be warm any longer. My mind rapidly transitioned over the intervening months, realizing that although this wasn't the love of my life, it was my lover, and we'd just shared a special night together. 

Janet stretched luxuriously, her arms raised above her head, and turned onto her back toward me. I slid my hand up onto her belly and onto her breast, her body lifting into my touch like a cat in response. She grabbed my arm with hers, holding it to her chest and rolled toward me. "Thank you."

I bent my face to hers and kissed her lips -- a chaste good morning kiss. I was sure my morning mouth must be offensive

She sighed. "I really needed that."

"I could tell." She rolled completely over, offering her backside to me in a spoon, holding my arm between her breasts. We just lay there waking up for quite a while, our thoughts running silently through our heads, knowing it was time for her to return to her world. "Do you want to take a shower before you go home?" I asked when it was obvious we'd both totally woken up.




Awake



"Hmmm. Tempting," she responded, turning once more onto her back, "will you wash my back?"

"Of course. I'll wash your entire body if you want."

"That would be nice." With an enigmatic smile on her face she continued, "I don't think I'd mind skinny dipping with you now, what do you say we do that first?"