She answered not looking away from the glowing notebook screen that illuminated her soft cheeks.
He gazed at her. The notebook sitting on her lap supported by long lean legs that have seen miles of road and treadmill. Small rounded breast that popped from a firm torso toned by countless hours. Even her neck was firm, partially hidden by her flowing blonde hair.
She sat on the porch swing, gently swaying back and forth in effortless glide backlight by the mid morning sun. The only word that came to mind was, stunning.
Dave wanted her. He always wanted her. Who wouldn’t want her, he reasoned. He wanted her then and he wanted her now.
On the porch he stood in his bathrobe, a tattered rag of thinned faded flannel. He pulled it tight to covered his belly.
“No”, he questioned.
Her hazel blue eyes finally lifted from the screen to cast the answer.
Her sports bra was still damp from a morning run. She ran with her girl friends. They assembled on the front porch of the house, chatted about kids, life, groceries and husbands. Maybe not in that order but usual topics. Depending on the day and weather, the group decided on mileage, a route and then began to run.
On this particular day, a bright Saturday morning of low humidity, they ran to Gigo’s Gym, a relaxing four miles away.
At the gym, they sipped purified water infused in vitamins and other nutrients. They talked more about kids and life and husbands and jobs while toning and exercising body parts. Once pumped with energy that originates from a dopamine progression, they returned to the front porch via the same four miles, where they high-fived and hugged and made future plans.
The group, numbering five on most Saturdays, were known as the Running Club, a mix of mid to late career women who found solace from life’s issues from physical activity. Husbands were encourage to run along with their wives although it was unusual if any did.
Dave was interested in physical activity of course even if a thin damp sports bra was included in the mix.
His wife was the de facto leader, elevated to local celebrity status by losing over a hundred pounds and blogging about it on the increasing popular Carla’s Run. She took her position too seriously, Dave thought at times, cataloging miles, calories, reps and participation and attitudes to share progress with those who ran with her and followed her on the web.
“No”, he repeated, maybe questioned. He didn’t mind the damp bra.
(to be continued)