Brian uncorked a bottle of California Cabernet and poured some into each glass. Jessie looked at the label on the bottle. “Stag’s Leap. 1984. Very nice wine.”
Brian lifted his glass. “For a very nice lady and her new life. To JJ.” His eyes locked with Jessie’s and, after a moment, she looked away.
This is silly, Jessie told herself. It feels like he’s flirting with me. It only goes to show that I’ve been celibate too long. He’s my best friend’s husband, for heaven’s sake. She shook it off and spent the rest of the evening chatting amiably with Steph and Brian.
The following day Jessie unwound. Between Brian’s job and Steph’s stint at the hospital, Jessie saw nothing of either of them. Content to be alone she sat beside the pool until her skin turned a luscious shade of soft apricot, read a romance novel, soaked in a bubble bath for an hour in the oversized jacuzzi-tub in her bathroom, and generally exorcised Rob from her consciousness.
She saw Steph briefly late that afternoon. Jessie had grabbed a container of yogurt from the fridge and was sitting at the table in the kitchen, eating with one hand and holding her book open with the other.
“Hi, Steph,” she said, looking up from her book. “What’s up? How was your day?”
“The day was great, but I now have a delightful idea. Brian got two tickets for a concert tonight from some client and we can easily get a third. Very last minute. It’s the Julliard String Quartet. Brian and I love them and we don’t get to hear them very often. How about us both joining him in the city? Dinner, the concert? It would do you a world of good.”
“I’m not a concert kind of person, Steph. All that music, particularly after a good dinner, just puts me to sleep. You go, and have a great time.”
“But we haven’t spent any time together. You’ve been alone all day.”
“And I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. Go and enjoy your concert. I want to get to bed early anyway. All this relaxing is making me tired.” To emphasize her drowsiness, she yawned. “I don’t want you to feel you have to entertain me. I do just fine on my own.”
“I feel so guilty. But we’re best friends and I’ll trust you to be honest. So if you’re sure you don’t mind I’d really like to see this. And the next two days, and Friday as well, are ours. Shopping. Bloomies maybe?”
“Done. See you in the morning.”
The next morning, dressed in jeans and a white tank top, Jessie sat in a long white lounge chair in her favorite room in the Carltons’ house. Jessie knew that, when Steph and Brian had bought the house a dozen years before, the room had been an open flagstone patio overlooking the pool, shaded at each end by a huge red maple. The couple had immediately seen its potential and had enclosed it with louvered windows and white wood. They had furnished it in white wicker and cluttered it with dozens of pillows in primary colors.
Once the room was constructed, Steph had worked with a florist, learning everything she could about houseplants. She decorated the room with carefully selected specimens, and then tended them with loving care. One end contained cactuses, many blooming with either flowers or colored globes. The other end was all greenery, with ivys, ferns, and a six-foot-high fig tree. In the center, where there was sun most of the day, Steph had put florals with several plants in bloom at all times—African violets in exotic shades, orchids and lilies, anything that caught her fancy. One section was her hospital. The owner of the florist shop frequently gave Steph plants that weren’t doing well, for her to nurse back to health. She spent time almost every day misting, watering, pruning, and removing dead blooms.
Jessie had gotten up early that morning and, although it was only eight-thirty, she was sitting and reading, a cup of fresh coffee at her elbow. As she read, she suddenly became aware of sounds from the pool. She shifted her position and peered through the leaves of a deep orange hibiscus. She couldn’t believe what she saw.
Not twenty feet away, beside the pool, Steph lay, stretched out on a lounge chair, dressed in only the top of a tiny black bikini. The bottom of the suit lay on the concrete beside her chair. Her legs straddled the cushions and a man lay between her thighs, his head buried in her pussy. “Ummm,” Jessie heard Steph mumble. “That’s wonderful.” As Jessie watched she became aware of a smooth, tanned back and a tight, tiny ass. She realized that the head that bobbed in Steph’s lap was blond. It was not Brian.
Jessie could hear slurping sounds and moans. Wanting to turn away yet fascinated, Jessie watched through the leaves and blossoms.
“Oh Tony,” Steph moaned. “Do that more.” Her legs trembled and her fists clenched and unclenched. “Yes, just like that.” She reached behind her back and untied the top of her bathing suit to free her breasts. As the young man lapped, she pinched her nipples and squirmed. Jessie saw Tony hold Steph’s hips still as his mouth worked its magic. Jessie’s body throbbed and she could almost feel Tony’s tongue as it brought Steph closer and closer to orgasm.
“Oh baby,” Steph yelled, “don’t stop!”
Jessie wiggled her hips to scratch the itch that grew between her legs. She clenched her vaginal muscles as Steph yelled, “Now, baby. Stick me now!”
Tony plunged two fingers into Steph’s body. His arm worked like a piston as Steph’s hips thrashed. “Yes,” she screamed. “Yes!” As she clutched the arms of the lounge chair and arched her back, the man could barely keep his face against her cunt and his fingers pistoning.
Jessie could almost feel her friend’s orgasm and, as she heard Steph’s heavy breathing slow, Jessie snuck back into the house and up to her room.
What the hell was that all about? she wondered as she closed the door to her room and dropped onto the bed. She took a few deep breaths to calm her excited body, then propped her head on the pillows. Steph had been a bit wild as a kid, she remembered. She had dated several boys before she met Brian and had told Jessie in great detail about one particular gymnast who finally convinced her to go ‘all the way’ in the backseat of his father’s Oldsmobile. “Boy,” Steph had told her, “his gymnastics aren’t limited to the gymnasium.
Jessie shook her head. I never thought she’d cheat on Brian like this, she thought, her eyes filling. What is it about sex that makes good people like Steph and Rob do such impossible things, lie and cheat? What is it about sex?
It was after ten when Jessie heard a light knock on her bedroom door. “You up?” a voice whispered.
Jessie wiped her eyes, composed her face and, trying not to look as upset as she felt, said, “Sure. Come on in.”
“Well, good morning sleepyhead,” Steph said. She had changed into a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a short-sleeved, navy-blue shirt.
“Good morning yourself,” Jessie answered, not totally successful at keeping the edge from her voice.
“What’s wrong, Jessie?” Steph said. “You sound upset.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jessie said. “Just a bit cranky this morning.”
“Don’t kid me, babe,” Steph said, plopping onto the edge of the bed. “Something’s up.” When Jessie was silent, Steph dropped the novel Jessie had been reading onto the bed beside her. “I found this in the plant room. Does this have anything to do with your mood this morning?”
Jessie picked up the book and put it on the bedside table. “I must have left it there last evening.”
“Don’t, babe. You never were a very good liar. You saw Tony and me earlier, didn’t you.”
Jessie blushed, but remained silent.
“You’re