She was an old friend of my wife, her best friend in high school, and she was in town visiting her parents when we met her, accompanied by her husband. She was much prettier than I remembered, having met her years previous, when she was all bundled up in a winter coat and hat. She had long dark hair, almost black, down below her shoulders, flashing eyes and a wicked come hither smile. Her husband was attractive in a general sort of way, but seemed years younger than she was.
And so when we met them at the local farmers market one Saturday morning, we were quick to invite them over than evening for drinks. It was the beginning of summertime, and the evening light filtering through the trees always made early evening the prettiest time of day. It was a casual invitation, no dressing up, just drinks and catching up on old times for the women, and so we put on soft clothes, clean shorts, and sat down at 5PM with a beer and a smile.
They arrived right on time, and we all sat out on the deck, Gayle wearing an interesting halter top print dress, her cleavage more than obvious, Tom like me wore a simple Lacoste and tan shorts, the uniform of the day. Over the first beers, they told us about their lives in Florida, she still running the cosmetics department of a major department store, he the beverage manager of a prominent club, emphasizing how happy they were down there, how they had a great time all the time, and how they loooved to party.
We love partying was the phrase used, and she looked me straight in the eye when she said it, just in case I had any doubts as to what she meant. My wife is a lovely person, kind, caring, trusting, and extremely naive, and so the repeated phrase and the interchange went right over her head. At about this time the first set of beers ran out, and I went into the kitchen to get more.
As I stood at the kitchen counter rummaging around for the opener, Gayle came up behind me silently, snaked her hand under my shirt and across my chest, quickly grabbing my nipple and squeezing hard. She leaned into me, pressing herself against me, her uncontained breasts pushing hard into my back. "Do I have your attention now?" she asked, barely whispering into my ear, her breath rushing along my earlobe. "What the hell are you doing?" I responded, as quietly as I could. "You know exactly what I'm doing," she replied. "We're not exactly novices at this, you know," she said, "and I've had this feeling about you guys ever since we saw you this morning." I hardly knew what to say, and said nothing, and so she pulled hard on my nipple yet again, as I stood there, obviously not moving away. "Tom's about to bring your lovely wife into the kitchen to help us out...what do you think she'll see?" And with that, I heard the screen door open and saw the two of them standing there, outlined in the open doorway.