Maybe we could do it again some day?

Exactly what my husband would like to see. I watched the woman jog by. I was looking out my front window and she caught my eye. I’d seen her jogging by before, usually the same time every day. She was medium height, slender, blond, with big breasts, and she wore short athletic shorts and a tee-shirt just tight enough to show off her figure. And she was definitely athletic, jogging by every day, and around the next block several times before returning.

I could just imagine it if my husband were home in the afternoon when she jogged by. There was no way he could resist a peek at that. What would he be thinking? About her breasts–about what she looked like nude. About making love to her? Well, he left no doubt that it was me he loved, but he *is* a man. So not *making love*, but *doing it*. Would he think about *doing it* with her? I watched her jogging back. How would they do it? Why was I thinking about this? Would she give him a coy smile? Would she giggle at him? Would she be brazen and strip for him?

I imagined her right there in the living room, smiling at him. How would she do it? Whatever way he wanted? What would he fantasize? Her getting on her hands and knees, nude, looking coyly back at him–and him kneeling behind her. Why was I thinking about this? She was obviously the kind of woman that a man liked to look at, to fantasize about. And my husband was definitely a man.

I feel guilty that I don’t exercise regularly like that woman. One day I put on my running shorts and headed out to jog. I hadn’t seen her. I really didn’t want to do it out there in front of her, looking like a rank beginner. If I was lucky, I’d be done before she came.

I hadn’t run more than two hundred feet and she passed me. I watched her zipping away from me -she was obviously athletic. I felt foolish: someone like her would want nothing to do with someone like me. Then she turned around and looked at me. And she stopped, jogging in place for a second, and then running back to me.

“Hi,” she said. She had fallen in beside me.


“Mind if I run with you? It’s so boring to run alone.”

“Sure.” She could talk so easily while she was jogging. I was trying to catch my breath and she just talked away, first about the weather, then about the neighborhood. She was very friendly and she made me feel like she was lucky to be running with *me*. I finally gave out and had to walk a while. That didn’t faze her a bit, she just walked beside me until I’d caught my breath, still talking away. When I had to quit after circling the block twice, she also didn’t bat an eye, but ran right along with me back to my house.

“Thanks for letting me run with you,” she said, friendly to the end. “Maybe we could do it again some day?” And as an afterthought, “If you’re running again?”

I couldn’t believe it. I was admiring her for being so trim and athletic, and she is asking me if she can run with me! It was just so unexpected.

That night as I lay in bed, I was just drifting off when I woke with a start. There had been the image of her, turning around and running back to me, looking so happy. I lay there awake for a minute staring at the ceiling. I shut my eyes and there was that image again. Why was I so excited?