A long time ago, in a galaxy not so far away … I slept with a married woman.
And I knew she was married.
And it didn't bother me because I had no designs on her other than friendship.
The fact we slept together was nothing planned, nothing repeated, and nothing we even talked about before - or after - it happened.
And after it was over, it was over. We didn't regret it, or deny it, or repeat it.
Not because it wasn't good, but because it wasn't the result of anything other than being there, in that moment, where it could happen. That moment wasn't repeated, either.
And we didn't dwell on it, either. We did it, showered, dressed, and went to work.
Before that night, she and I worked together at one of my many jobs. And after work, we hung out, we drank beer together, were on the same softball team, played tennis, and talked.
After that night, we continued to hang out, drink beer, play softball, tennis, bicycle, and be friends, like before, without any ‘nudge, nudge, wink, wink’ stuff.
Most of the time we were together outside of work, we’d talk about work – how to do it better, smarter, easier. And we’d talk about other things, too. A lot of other things. Her marriage, their future plans, and how they planned on getting there.
Her moving to the area I was living in was one of the building blocks on that plan.
Now if you've read most of my stuff, you're probably saying, Wow Eric, this is really, really vague, eh? Yes, it is.
To fill in some of those details, one night, after a late night of work, she mentioned not wanting to drive home in the heavy blanket of snow and ice that hit the area, as January storms tend to do in Northeastern Ohio. I told her I had an extra bedroom she could use.
At some point in time, during the night, she got cold. This apartment I had was in an old house. It was drafty. The windows would rattle. And to keep the heating bill down, I kept that room closed, so it was kind of chilly in there. And the blankets on the bed weren't the best.
And when she got cold, she decided that my bed was big enough for two, and my comforter was probably warmer than the old blanket she had, so she joined me.
When morning came, and we woke up, she kind of rolled over, stretched, pulled off the t-shirt I gave her to sleep in, smiled and said, "I'm really horny in the morning. How about you?”
That's just too good of an invitation for a straight man to pass up. It was a good morning.
And we were both smiles all day at work.
And it was never repeated.
And that's all I'm saying.
Again, vague, even for me.
But there's a reason.
A really good reason.
As I said, she was married.
That’s not the reason.
See, they had an agreement … they were free to do who they wanted, as long as it was just play.
Which ours was.
She was a bit older than me at the time - about 10 years. That's a big deal when you're under 25, as I was.
And I thought she was way out of my league. I was mid-20's, full of insecurity and not all that confident about the way I looked.
She was mid-30's, beautiful, with a great smile, great rack and an ass like nobody's business that I loved to follow up the steps at work, as well as uphill when we'd bicycle around the city after work.
And she wore this killer perfume. Liz Claiborne, I think. The original one. Yum.
As I said, all this happened a long time ago.
So why bring it up now?
Well, I was watching election results on Tuesday and saw her on TV.
At a victory party.
For her husband … who was elected to a pretty important position.
Yep, there they were, on the national news, together, smiling, with their kids.
National news. Not local.
Sure, after more than a decade, she looked a bit older, but still hot as ever, with a smile I'd recognize anywhere.
And it brought back good memories … memories of us hanging out. Drinking beer. Laughing. Talking.
And, yeah, that one great morning.