She sat across from me. She on the couch, I in the rocker. She was nervously
giddy, ensconced in more eye makeup than she normally wore, and slightly tipsy from the late night of bowling. I was surprised she even dropped in that late as I don’t live anywhere near anything, am absolutely out of everyone’s way, so my friends never drop in on me. I myself was excited and my mind was racing as to what this unexpected surprise could mean.
Sheila and I had been having intense and unusual conversations lately, more unusual than normal for us, which is saying something as my chosen career of midwifery lent itself quite often to avante garde subjects. We had been talking on the phone for hours every day, me pacing around outside with the baby in the backpack trying to squeeze in another five minutes before the little one really lost it and started wailing. I just never tired of talking to her. She was friend, confidante, kindred spirit, and soon-to-be lover. But I didn’t know this yet. Not quite yet anyway.
I had been feeling the tension in the air for a couple of weeks now. Especially when we were in her subaru together. In close proximity alone. The feeling was foreign to me, but I could have cut it with a knife. I noticed the tension—it was unavoidable—but I knew not what it meant and it had me baffled. I wasn’t intimidated by her, so that couldn’t be it. I wasn’t uncomfortable around her. I had fun with her. I thought maybe this tension meant that she didn’t like me or was uncomfortable with me in some way, and that I was feeling that; or, the tiny inkling thought made its way into my brain: Maybe she’s attracted to me and I’ll have to break it to her that I’m totally straight.
Then one night I had the dream. The foursome dream that she, her husband, me, and my husband all went camping together and ended up having a sexual romp in their truck camper. It was a crazy, unfamiliar dream, but when I woke up I was still feeling titillated by it and told my husband about it. He was immediately turned on about it, and we started talking about what if? What if we really did have a foursome? Did he like my friend? Was he attracted to her? Did I like her husband? Could I be with him? Could I be with her? All of these questions hovered in the air as they are when you first begin exploring the concept of open marriage.
That day, during our typical phone conversation I told Sheila about my dream.
She giggled and responded like my husband had responded; excited and curious about the possibility. Then the real awkward subject was broached. Giggle, giggle, would she and I be together in this foursome, giggle, giggle. Then we moved on to safer territory. But the more I pondered my dream and the resulting questions over the next couple of days, the more I realized that it was my friend that I was subconsciously wanting to be with, not her husband.
So here we were about a week later, quietly sitting in my cozy living room looking at each other but sorta speechless with nervous smiles on our faces. Well, I’m shy sometimes, but I can’t take that kind of tense pressure very long. So I said, after some small talk, “You know it wasn’t Charlie I wanted to be with in my dream.” And she said, “Oh? Really?” And sat quietly and waited for me to finish. And I said, “I want to be with you.” There. Out. Said. Oh my god! I can’t believe I just said that. She responded in a positive way, slightly laughingly, not really surprised by what I had said, but nervous nonetheless.
I can’t remember every detail after that. It was 11 years ago. But we ended up making out on the couch. I had never made out with a woman before and I was struck that each of us was waiting for the other to lean in and be the ‘giver’ of the kiss, while we both sorta were passively waiting to receive. And just to kiss someone different than my husband was weird. Little lips. Taste. Smell. Response.
I couldn’t wait to get in her pants. Really. I can’t believe how badly I wanted her. But I wanted her. I didn’t give much thought to my husband sacked out in the bedroom, dead out from drinking too much with his golfing buddies. He did cross my mind, but I knew what I wanted and nothing was stopping me. Plus he and I had talked about the dream and the possibilities that could be created in a foursome scenario. So on the edges of my consciousness, I told myself he would be okay with it. It wasn’t like I was sleeping with a man, after all. She was my best friend.
My hand plunged down and she was so wet it turned me on immensely. It wasn’t long until I had her pants down and was exploring her with my tongue. Again, like the kiss, I was in foreign territory, had never come close to doing anything like this before. I was fumbling and awkward. I opened her lips with my hand and just started licking all around, no rhyme or reason to what I was doing. She tasted musky, like my pussy smelled. She was taken slightly aback at my ferocity. But we were both feverish and moaning and on some sexual roller coaster ride that wasn’t stopping until it was over.
We enjoyed each other immensely that night, pleasing each other in an awkward and new, naive sort of way. I was surprised at how intensely my body responded to her that night, yet there was so much trust and safety between us already, that I felt comfortable being vulnerable, and a whole new way of being Woman was opened up for me. It was over after about an hour. There really hadn’t been much foreplay, unless you consider the fantasizing and tension and sexual innuendoes of the previous two weeks foreplay.
I moved away and got ready for bed.
She followed my lead and left pretty quickly. I wasn’t embarrassed about what we had done, but I was ready to move on and not hang out. My feeling of “being done” sorta caught me off guard because all I had wanted that week had been her. I snuggled in to bed with my hubby and prepared what I was going to say to him in the morning, because we didn’t keep secrets from each other. I thought.
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