Slipping Ch. 01: Intoxicated Workouts

They were the couple everyone respected. Brianna was a woman of stability— trustworthy, full of perfect advice and genuinely positive all the time. She didn't get involved in rumors or drama. Yet, she was also a lot of fun and willing to jump into a little mischief. Patrick was the husband and father that the other women told their husbands to be more like—responsible, confident, passionately devoted to making Brianna happy and ever-willing to put fatherhood ahead of everything else. As a couple, they were filled with heart-warming love stories, never failing to write new ones. Sure, they had problems and even discord at times, but they were the couple that everyone respected.

I was the friend that was secretly in love with her. My husband had no idea.

It was a Saturday morning after a little league game when Patrick approached me about working out with Brianna. My heart leapt at the idea. I'd been wanting a reason to see her more regularly. At this point, I was only thinking of a closer friendship. I loved being around her and simply wanted more of her positivity, maturity and encouragement.

Patrick stumbled through the idea, trying to cover his nervousness. In truth, he was attracted to me, but was trying not to be. I was the typical beautiful girl: a slender athletic build, long flowing brown hair, big brown eyes and a very pretty face. My whole life, I'd been the girl that the other girls said was most beautiful-not that I put much stock into that. I only saw myself as the closest to the typical definition of beautiful. Lucky me. Honestly, I never felt more beautiful than my friends; I just felt that was how everyone else saw it. I was used to seeing this kind of nervous attraction from guys and actually kind of liked it coming from Patrick. He was a really good guy and we connected on some level, like kindred spirits. Our personalities just matched. He was nice to look at, fairly fit and handsome in his own unordinary way.

"She's been wanting to drop some pounds and really just needs someone who knows what they're doing. Someone to keep her accountable. Basically a trainer. I figured you're one of her best friends and you're super smart with fitness stuff. Why not you?"

He kept talking about why Brianna probably wouldn't ask me and how much good it would be for our friendship. I had already agreed to it (about a dozen times in my head, ecstatically) but I kept nodding politely and patiently. When he finally stopped, I agreed (out loud, casually) saying I'd be happy to come over to their place. He said maybe he could even work out with us, to which I smiled about but silently hoped against. I wanted Brianna to myself. We chatted a little more about Tye, my husband, who was out of shape and needed to exercise but wouldn't because he was always tired (that of course being a byproduct of not exercising). We both worried about what would happen to our spouses' health later in life if they didn't change their habits. Brianna walked up and the final arrangements were made.

I came over on a Monday, arriving just as Patrick got home from work still wearing his slacks and dress shirt. He looked really good and I thought about how lucky Brianna was to come home to him everyday. She was wearing workout clothes-a neon dryfit shirt and black yoga pants.

As we walked out to the back yard, her leading the way, I looked at her body as I never had before. There was no intention, it just happened. I let my eyes follow the shape of her hips and the movement of her butt. I don't know why I did it. I didn't expect to like it, though I did, for some odd reason. I was totally straight and never had the slightest attraction to women. Yet, as I realized what was happening in that moment, an exhilarating, naughty feeling rushed through me. My enjoyment then wasn't just from what my eyes were seeing; I loved the realization that I was checking out another woman. I don't know how or why it happened, but it felt edgy, daring and sexy.

Those butterflies in my stomach and that flushed burning behind my ears hooked me. Something about the naughty feeling was intoxicating. It made me want to prolong the moment, so I did. I slowed my walk and found the subtle tell-tale triangle that showed the style of panties she was wearing. I watched it stretch and shift with each step, wrapping tightly around her butt. I wondered if this was what guys looked at when they checked a girl out. It was somewhat captivating, I had to admit.

Brianna walked confidently but gracefully. She was a curvy girl, but not big. She had weight that she wanted to lose, but her overall figure was very womanly and beautiful. It was round in all the places that drove guys crazy. Being half hispanic and half white, she had a nice skin tone with a naturally light tan to it. Her long straight hair was dark brown to match her dark brown eyes. When she smiled, her face was welcoming and warm. She had a way of disarming me and exciting me at the same time. Up to that point, we had only been close friends. I loved her as a friend, but after that moment, that workout, I began to crush on her.

It was so liberating to be alone with her. I taught her several exercises that weren't too hard and we chatted about life, husbands and friends. It was nice and I felt fulfilled to have someone like her to connect with. Being four years older than me, she seemed to have a sensible perspective on things. She was very agreeable, even when she disagreed with something (which was rare for us). Our workout lasted about 45 minutes and we went back inside to cool down. I left after a few minutes, giving a quick hug and a "See you Thursday." As I left, I didn't even recall my moment of checking her out, because our friendship had filled my heart.

Our workouts continued like this twice a week every week. With each session, our tightness grew closer and closer. We were truly becoming best friends. Brianna understood me in ways my husband couldn't-even if he'd try. I began to open up to her about my deepest dreams and fears. I felt free to share ideas and opinions that I thought were crazy and stupid; things I would never tell Tye. Brianna always responded in honest, helpful and encouraging ways. She really liked me and I could tell. She said plainly that I was her favorite person to be around of all of our friends. When she said that, I blushed really deeply (though I knew she couldn't tell since we'd been doing cardio that day).

She too began to share things about her and Patrick. She would speak about their relationship in ways that she hadn't spoken to anyone. There were no hidden issues or juicy storylines, just things that she didn't like. She said that I was filling her heart in ways that Patrick hadn't for years.

We even opened up about our sex lives, which she said she'd never done. I expressed how Tye, was far too one-dimensional and too out of shape. I wanted to feel new things, but he seemed to lack imagination. Patrick was on the other end of the spectrum. He was constantly trying things that pushed Brianna out of her comfort zone, really freaky things. It was hard for her to simply relax and enjoy an orgasm because she worried about what he'd try next. So, she usually faked her way through their sex, then took care of herself later. He had no idea. We both agreed that this was just the way of things: there was a limit to men knowing how to really please a woman. If only they could read our minds, we said.

Brianna and I shared everything on our minds, almost.

The only thing I was afraid to talk about was that itching arousal I felt for her. Every week, I'd have a glance or two that revived that same naughty feeling from our first workout. Each time it happened, I liked it a little more. As our friendship had blossomed, I'd become more and more anxious to indulge in those glances. What had started as a sampling, a curiosity, a lovely tickle had expanded into a sort of addiction.

After a few months, Brianna's body looked amazing. She was leaner and her curves popped in gorgeous proportions. She was sexy in a way I could only dream of being with my straight athletic build.

We became more touchy with each other. It was never sensual touches, just playful flirty touches-but they were very frequent. She'd reach out and graze my forearm with her fingers, then squeeze my hand. I'd put my hand on the small of her back for an exercise, leave it there for a few extra moments, then slide it quickly over her rear. As we we'd enter the house after a workout, she'd stop at the door and let me bump into her backside. Each time we said our goodbyes (which had adopted a "love ya") we'd hold our hands prior to hugging. Through all this, I knew she was getting very comfortable with me.

Late in the summer, she wore a low-cut shirt that showed more cleavage than usual. On one exercise, I couldn't keep my eyes from going back to her chest with each rep she did. Her breasts weren't extremely large, but they large enough to be very intriguing to me. (I only ever saw my small breasts in the mirror.) As I saw them rep after rep, that naughty feeling slowly built. It was a drug and I wanted more. I just kept biting my lower lip with every dip and hoped she didn't suspect anything. My itch had started.

We finished the set and she caught her breath. Instead of moving on to the next exercise, she wanted to do another set. This time, I could tell she was offering herself to be looked at. We kept exchanging quick glances and grins as she tried to catch my feasting eyes. At the end we laughed.

"Now I know how you get Patrick's attention."

"Works every time."

Maybe she had been goofing off, but I was very excited. The naughty feeling had exploded, more intoxicating than ever. I could feel myself wanting to look at her sexually for the entire rest of the workout.

Twenty minutes later, when we came inside to say good night, I thought she'd dismissed that moment entirely. I was still high on it. She seemed to delay saying goodbye for some reason. Then Patrick went to the other side of the room to tend to one of the kids and she instantly moved toward me.

With her husband's back turned, Brianna and I came together.

Her right foot stepped between my feet as her hands around my lower back. I dutifully put mine around her neck, wondering why this felt odd. Then I felt her hips move in a funny way as her thigh pressed against my lady parts. She lifted her knee so I could feel her even more. Her hands slid off my lower back onto my butt. It lasted only a few seconds, but she clearly was not goofing off.

"Have a good night," she whispered in my ear. A shudder hit my loins like I hadn't felt in a long time.

"You too, love ya," was all I could muster.

As she pulled away, quickly glancing to make sure Patrick was still not looking, she took my hands and guided them down the center of her chest, letting me feel the cleavage I'd watched earlier. We separated just as Patrick turned around. He never knew a thing.

I managed to make it to the car, pursing my lips as I walked. The entire drive home was filled with me replaying the moment in my head. I placed my hand on my thigh and hip and let it drift between my legs and under my short shorts. Several times I pushed my palm against where she'd pressed against me and closed my eyes quivering at the sensation.

Within my loose running shorts, I started throbbing, hopelessly turned on.