I hardly recognized the passage of time until Brett offered to cook supper for me. I declined but made sure he knew how much I enjoyed myself that day and that I looked forward to more visits. We exchanged cellphone numbers at his suggestion to have direct communication should we need it.
* * * * *
When I left Brett’s house, I didn’t relish changing in the pool house so I walked home still wearing my swimsuit. I had brought my knee-length, terry cloth bathrobe in case I needed a cover-up but I didn’t expect to walk in public with it. Besides imagining I appeared out of place, I felt overheated by the heavy material until I let the front open.
I walked head down, deep in thought about touching his penis and contemplating what he or I might do the next time we met. Walking through Mr. Rogers’ yard, I was jolted out of my reverie by his voice and Greta jerking the leash I had just reattached.
“Good evening, Miss Annie.” Eying my swimsuit through the open lapels, he asked, “Have you been swimming?”
Because he was kneeling by some shrubs a few feet off to the side, I hadn’t noticed him until he spoke.
“I’m sorry, Andy. I didn’t see you there. Yes, I was invited to use a pool a couple blocks around the berm.”
Using his yard to come and go, I didn’t want developments with Brett to disturb the access arrangement nor sour the comfortable friendship I enjoyed with the sweet gentleman. He rose from his work so I stopped to chat. He offered Greta a dog biscuit that he had recently begun carrying in his pocket. The importance he placed on our acquaintance warmed my heart.
He seemed pleased that I was making more friends in the neighborhood but I detected a hint of concern in his questions suggesting how it might change our almost daily meetings. I decided to give him a big hug to allay his worries about continuing to see me regularly.
At first, his hug seemed stiff with surprise or uncertainty; perhaps he was merely avoiding my wet clothes. Whatever held him back disappeared quickly and I felt his arms coil around my back, pulling me firmly against his body. I could feel his hips pressing against mine; responding in kind, my body pressed back. I realized I was hugging him the sexual way I hugged Brett earlier.
Instead of fearing my responsibility for the way men react to me, I was enjoying the effects my appearance and behavior had on them. I didn’t worry what signals I was sending or how Andy might interpret my actions because I expected his gentle, fatherly nature to continue. Even if he felt encouraged to take it further, I doubt I would have objected.
Nothing came of the hug except more jovial remarks from Andy as we conversed about gardening. Neither did he seem bothered by his dampened shorts. I finally excused myself to return home for supper.
* * * * *
I went out the next morning for a day of shopping that included self-pampering. A rainy weather system dampened the entire day, which made the afternoon perfect for me-time.
At the large mall nearby, I visited several department stores to buy new, lighter clothes and sexy underwear; and of course, purchase a bikini and a cover-up meant for the beach. I chose a short white smock rather than a wispy wrap.
The pink suit I settled on was a bikini in name only as I let old thinking influence my choice. Even in two pieces, little skin was uncovered and the sturdy top held my girls immobile and covered my cleavage. The high-rise panty presented a new problem for me though; I needed a trim.
The discovery provoked a total grooming mission. I visited a salon to have my hair styled and to get a manicure and pedicure with fashionable colors instead of clear coat. In my bathroom that evening, I trimmed the unruly length of my pubes with scissors and comb as well as shaved the sides; things I hadn’t done since my college competition days.
When I tried my bikini on again to check the results, I realized I was advertising my sex appeal. I took a selfie to share with Molly. With no experience to draw on, I wanted to discuss my preparations for the next step with my close adviser.
That night, I called Molly. I’ve learned to anticipate the direction of her advice from her early questions. She was most interested in Brett’s reactions to my hugs, kisses, and gropes. She wasn’t surprised that the greeting hug led to kissing and intimate touching; as if she knew those things would happen.
After confirming I made the first moves, she made her points. “Like I predicted, he’s letting you set the pace of developments. You can rely on him staying that way. I bet his strategy is to wait until you ask for sex. With that body of yours, you should try to turn the tables on him. Keep wearing skimpier suits until you’re prancing around naked. As cool as this dude is, if you can get him to ask for it, you will realize how much control you have of men.”
I heard a wistful sigh before she spoke again. “I just looked at the selfie again. I wish I had a body like yours. Really though, that’s a two-piece, not a real bikini. It’s a move in the right direction, but I would also get something more revealing. I mean, if you’re gonna get totally naked with him, play the tease on the way.”
Back when I first told her about seeing Brett, she suggested right away that I would get naked with him; now, she was treating the idea as a foregone conclusion. Without ever discussing it in between, she knew I would; I accepted her presumptions as my fate.
Blustery weather with numerous storm cells continued the next day so I made another swimsuit-shopping excursion. This time, I drove past the big mall to Haulover Beach and browsed the little beachside shops, believing I would find the more daring swimwear there. Indeed I did. Wicked Weasel brand provided a diverse array of microkinis ranging from small to what’s-the-point.