Tracy Robinson had a hard and fast rule: Do NOT, under any circumstances, never, ever, ever fool around with a married man. She'd been married and cheated on and she remembered all too well the pain it caused her. In her mind there was no valid, justifiable reason to date someone who she knew was going to be a liar from the very beginning; she had enough respect for herself to not date someone else's man. Because she was bisexual, the same theory applied to women as well. Women were slightly different in that she rarely, if ever, had a married woman trying to seduce her. Most women weren't after illicit sex and extramarital liaisons with random other women so while Tracy felt morally righteous and superior for saying on principle that she never messed around with a married woman, the instances of her being tempted by a married woman were almost non-existent.
Tracy was the kind of woman who felt comfortable adhering to rules. She'd served in the military for 20 years and was now enjoying her life pursuing her dreams of becoming an artist. In many ways, it was the exact opposite of the strict, rigid life she'd had in The Army. She could stand in front of a canvas for hours, sometimes forgetting to eat, on only two or three hours of sleep a night, and paint to her heart's content. Several local galleries were showing her work and while the sales were few and far between, they were enough to keep her motivated to continue her passion. Her military pension paid the bills so she was comfortable and happy. Single life wasn't necessarily to her liking but she wasn't so desperate to be in relationship that she would jump at the first man who showed her attention either. Her 40th birthday was coming up, she was relatively content in life, and didn't really have a care in the world.
When they say that life has a way of knocking you off your feet, sometimes that can be literal. In her garden pulling weeds one day, Tracy made a wrong move and ended up face up in amongst her gardenias unable to move. If it hadn't been for her trusty letter carrier happening along, she might have been there for hours. After a very brief stint in the local hospital, she ended up in the VA for rehabilitation and physical therapy. She'd injured her back in the military years before and it had a habit of acting up every once in a while, but after a few days rest, it might literally be years before another flare up. If her blood sugar hadn't been so out of control, she would have been released with the usual, "Take care, don't over-exert yourself, take two pain killers and call me in the morning," shtick. The combination of the medicine and the fact that she hadn't been eating well were causing her glucose levels to go up and down like a yo-yo, sometimes spiking to dangerous levels. They released her but with orders for a nurse to come visit her home for follow up visits and make sure she was getting insulin when and if she needed it and monitor her progress. Say what you want about the military, and disregarding the times when they occasionally drop the ball, their care for their own is beyond compare.
Itching to get back to her canvases and ready to assume more responsibility for her health, Tracy started eating well and doing all the exercises they suggested she do for slowly strengthening her back muscles the minute she got home. If there was a regimen to be performed, Tracy could do it. She didn't want or need a nurse coming to check on her; she wanted to paint. Twice a week, whether she wanted it or not, a nurse was to come to check on her until the doctor released her. The first day Karen showed up, Tracy tried her best to be polite but it was more than apparent that she was frustrated and anxious about someone taking care of her. Karen was respectful of the retired Major, even calling her Ma'am. She was warm, gracious, and a highly competent nurse as well. Tracy insisted, "Do not call me Ma'am. I'm not in the military anymore." The two ladies had a rapport immediately. While she could have been in and out in twenty minutes, Karen stayed for almost an hour, getting to know her new patient and asking all sorts of questions to ensure that she was getting the best care possible and that her recovery was imminent. Karen was very personable, meaning she liked getting to know her patients in order to provide them with the absolute best care. She felt like it was her responsibility to extend herself to her patients, to be a friend to them.
Karen was, for all intents and purposes ... well ... not exactly the complete physical opposite of Tracy, but there were some significant differences. Other than the obvious difference in race, Tracy being Black and Karen being white; Tracy was taller than average, Karen was of average height. They both had similar builds but Karen had recently given birth and was nursing and the owner of very large, very sensitive breasts. They were both very attractive women who didn't feel a need to flaunt it and downplayed their attractiveness out of sensibility and practicality. The two women hit it off immediately and seemed to become friends from essentially day one. There was that connection, that intangible bond you get sometimes when you meet someone and you feel as if you've known them forever. Or, at the very least, that you can open up to them in ways you can't with others. Karen hadn't even been coming two full weeks when Tracy started looking forward to her visits. They would break up the monotony of her day, provide her company, and she enjoyed sharing her artwork with Karen.
One day, Karen stopped by on a day she wasn't scheduled to visit. She said she just wanted to check up on Tracy. The visit lasted almost two hours and the women talked about life, love, and everything else under the sun. It was that day that Tracy realized that the chemistry she shared with Karen was more than platonic. It was that night that Tracy allowed herself to have her very first fantasy about Karen. She lay in bed, tossing and turning, fantasizing about her new friend. Her hormones raged and her body ached to explore a more physical, sensual connection with the woman who had mandatory access to her home two times a week. Because she had been compelled to keep her sexuality secret and hidden in the military, Tracy had been accustomed to not opening up to anyone but potential lovers about her preferences. The newly emerging artist in Tracy was different. It was almost as if the minute she picked up a paint brush, she became committed to telling the truth, with her art and with her heart.
"Hey friend, come on in," Tracy said as she opened the door widely to greet Karen on her next scheduled visit. This time, rather than her hands and clothes being covered in paint, she was wearing a teal colored blouse and jeans that would be what she'd wear on a casual date with a man. She watched for Karen's reaction carefully as she undid the buttons on her shirt to reveal a black lace push up bra as she listened to her heart. Tracy rested her right hand on Karen's thigh as she pricked the finger on her left hand to test her blood sugar. Still no response. Karen seemed to be oblivious to any sexual tension and went about her business professionally and reported that she would in fact be telling the doctor that Tracy was cleared for release.
Visibly saddened, Tracy sighed and said, "I'm going to miss you, friend. It's been great getting to know you over this short period of time."
"Oh, I can still stop by and see you," Karen responded. "I have other patients in the area and I would be more than happy to stop by and check on you every once in a while." She added, "You know, my life is so routine, so predictable. I've been married to the same man for fifteen years, we've been in a relationship since high school; I've been in the military for more than a decade. I'm a mom and a wife and a nurse. You're an artist. I admire what you're doing. It's so, you know, different. I think what you're doing is fascinating and I love your work and I just think you're a really interesting, really nice person." It wasn't exactly what Tracy wanted to hear but it felt nice regardless and she knew Karen was being sincere. The last things she wanted to do was alienate her new friend so they hugged goodbye with promises of seeing one another again.
Before the week was out, Karen called and asked if it was okay if she stopped by. Tracy was elated. She grabbed a bottle of wine, some cheese and crackers and set out a little tray. "I finished with all my patients early today and I just didn't feel like going home yet," Karen blurted out the second she walked in. "My sister-in-law is watching the baby and my older two have practice after school. I just needed a little adult time, I hope you don't mind."
Mind? Was she crazy? Tracy was elated. Karen graciously accepted the offer of the chilled Pinot Grigio at 3:00 in the afternoon and nibbled on the smoked gouda and crackers. Nestled comfortably on her sofa, the two women continued to open up to one another in ways that far exceeded most burgeoning friendships. They were both revealing personal information about each other, about their sex lives, love lives, fears, dreams, frustrations, things that usually come after knowing someone a long time. As the proverbial clock struck 5, Karen had to leave and her car was barely out the driveway before Tracy had her vibrator out and was frantically stimulating her already aroused pussy.
.... There is more of this story ...