Chapter 7: Roxie and Me

I stood at the counter and stared at the coffee maker without really seeing it. My hands needed something to do. Behind me, Nick opened a cabinet, the soft click of the door loud in the quiet house. Everything had seemed so perfect for the month and a half after I met Roxie for the first time. I had found who I thought was a friend, perhaps the closest friend I had ever had. She seemingly had everything in her life that I wanted, even the things I could never bring myself to talk to Nick about, hell, even the things I had a hard time admitting to myself. Roxie was everything I was not. She was independent. She was happy in her marriage, happy in her life. She was strong, secure with herself, her body, her sexuality. She didn’t seem ashamed or afraid to discuss any subject. She pushed me to change, to excel, to be the best version of myself that I could be, and for that first month and a half, everything had worked out because of it.

We had a new house, because of Roxie. Nick’s commute was fifteen minutes instead of over an hour, because of Roxie. Financially, our family was so much better off now, because of Roxie. I had been training hard with the personal trainer Angel, and it had paid dividends because of Roxie. I felt I was not just in the best shape of my life, but I could also look in the mirror and be happy with what I saw, because of Roxie. Because of that, and the other changes in my life, I felt the sexiest I had ever been, because of Roxie. I had been given the opportunity to explore my passion, interior design, first with our new house and now with my new job remodeling the executive suites for Nick’s company, because of Roxie. I was starting my own interior design firm because of Roxie. My relationship with Nick had improved because of Roxie. For the first time in forever, I felt happy all because of Roxie.

Everything seemed to have been moving in the right direction at a breakneck speed that was so fast, it almost did not even give me a chance to slow down, take a look at what was happening, reflect, and breathe. Maybe if I had, I would have seen the red flags for what they really were and not been so quick to push them aside or ignore them.

The perfect example was the touching. Yes, Roxie was a very handsy person; she was that way with everyone. I saw that, and so even though it made me uncomfortable, I had pushed aside my concerns and chalked it up to Roxie being Roxie. The touching was so common, so constant, that within just a couple of weeks my discomfort had quickly changed to acceptance. It was not like Roxie had ever done anything truly inappropriate, until she did.

The first time I joined her and Angel for a workout at Roxie’s house, I arrived just before 8 am after dropping the kids off at day care for a few hours, then quickly changed into my workout gear and joined them in the home gym. When I walked into the gym, I was shocked by the strong smell of sweating bodies and an underlying funk, mixed with Roxie’s perfume. Roxie and Angel had apparently already been going at it for at least an hour because when I got there they were both dripping in sweat, faces flushed, hair hanging lankly and out of breath. Angel was busy wiping sweat from a bench, and Roxie was even limping, saying she had pulled a glute but would be ok soon. Roxie told me that Angel was a slave driver and pushed her to her limits and that she owed her body to him. She told me that he would do the same for me and I would be a walking, taut, and toned sexpot.

I had laughed, not knowing what else to do. I had no desire to become a sexpot, but I was starting to understand that is just how Roxie talked. Roxie left Angel and me alone for about thirty minutes while he talked to me, went over what I wanted to achieve with my body, and set short- and long-term goals. His accent was thick, and he was hard to understand at first, but I quickly found I liked him and he had a great sense of humor. Roxie joined again, and her leg seemed to have recovered, so she joined us in my first light workout. Angel then led us through an hour of yoga. I had never tried yoga before, so Angel gave me advice, and Roxie’s hands were on me constantly, touching almost every part of my body, pushing against me and trying to get me to mold into the position required to achieve the correct result. I thought nothing of it, even when I thought Roxie’s hand had touched my butt perhaps too long, or was placed too high up my inner thigh, or too low on my stomach. Every touch had a reason, every placement made sense, and I was impressed by both Angel and Roxie and how flexible their bodies were and wondered if I would ever be able to get to a point like that in my life.

When we ended for the day, I left to use the restroom, and when I got back, Angel was getting ready to leave. That is when I saw the first kiss. I wanted to think it was just a peck on the lips, but it was not. Roxie and Angel had kissed, not French; there were no tongues. Their hands had not grasped at each other as lovers, but their lips had met and pushed into the other’s, and their mouths had been open, even if it was just slightly. Roxie had seen me and did not seem at all disturbed by my having caught her kissing a man who was not her husband. She then let go of the hug she had been giving Angel, and he departed. I had not said anything. I was too shocked and too embarrassed. Roxie didn’t say anything, but acted as if nothing had happened. So I pretended the same.