The Houseguest 1

My husband Paul was gone for the week. Travis, the eighteen-year old son of my best friend, was downstairs in the living room playing video games. I changed into my new bathing suit, the revealing one I bought yesterday with Travis in mind. I looked at myself in the mirror. The small bikini on my hourglass figure left very little to the imagination. The top was designed for a B-cup, not my D size, so it left much of my breasts exposed to either side of the material. The bikini bottom was a small triangle in front, maybe the size of a playing card, cut low. The back of the suit was barely more than a string, hardly covering my behind at all.

My heart pounding, I walked down the stairs, gripping the banister to steady myself. Halfway down the stairs I had second thoughts. “It is wrong. He is the son of my best friend.” But then I realized I had been longing for this moment. I suspected Travis had been longing for it also. I threw caution to the wind and descended the stairs.