I don't know how it happened, but Cynthia became my closest friend and confidant after Michael passed. She always had the right thing to say whenever I had a problem I couldn't resolve via Jillian and her legal wizardry. She was the voice of reason when making decisions regarding things I wanted to do or buy.
I had thought about a trip to Europe, taking my time and mourning over there. Cynthia thought it would be better to be close to home, get things in order, then maybe take a trip. As it turned out, I didn't need a trip. As time passed, I grew accustomed to being single and living my life alone, at least temporarily.
I met her kids and her husband at the memorial service. It wasn't the best place to meet someone, but Her husband Eric was amiable, offering to help with any moving or work the house needed before selling it. He's a contractor and does very well. He's also the person who suggested the interior decorator who did my Townhouse. Cynthia's kids were adorable and polite and looked like younger versions of their parents. Active like their mom and on the honor roll at school. Cynthia had the perfect family and life. With one exception, she was bisexual, although her husband was aware and was okay with it. She was lacking that 'girl' time with a steady lover.
That's where I slowly fit into her life. I'm not complaining, but a friend who is a lover makes for a perfect combination. Someday I hope to find that again; in the meantime, I'm slowly enjoying my current situation.
The first time Cynthia and I made love was a few weeks after my night with Marina and Janice. Cynthia didn't seduce me; it was mutual and spontaneous, which added to the experience.
Eric had taken the kids camping for a week. His parents were on a road trip to Alaska when they called and suggested they meet up along the coast on the Olympic peninsula. Cynthia had sprained her ankle, and the thought of hiking with them all while pleasant wasn't the best idea to get back to normal.
So, Cynthia was home alone when she called to see if I wouldn't mind stopping by. She hadn't had adult company all week and wanted to sit and gab for a bit. She also had ideas about new workouts for me and an improved nutrition plan.
I told her it would be just after lunch because I had errands all morning. She mentioned she'd be in the backyard getting some sun, so I should walk in. I laughed, telling her I wasn't so sure about that. She replied to text her when I got there, and she'd meet me at the front door.
When I arrived, I texted as planned. I heard the front door unlock and another text to meet Cynthia in the backyard. I smiled, shaking my head, then entered the house. I listened to the door lock behind me as I headed out to the yard. When I got there, Cynthia lounged in her bikini, her abs visible as she smiled—wearing a green bikini that showed off her ample cleavage, a smoothie resting on a side table next to her. She got up, arms wide, to hug me.
When we hugged, she asked, "How are you doing, Kath? Something to drink? I should have told you to bring a suit to tan together while we chat."
I replied, enjoying her body against mine, "I'm good, thanks. Water is fine. I just had lunch."
I followed her into the kitchen, admiring her ass jiggle as we walked. I'd seen Cynthia completely nude in the sauna, but something about that suit on her made me tingle. She fixed a glass of ice water for me and then insisted I put my purse down and have a seat at the kitchen table. We started talking about my workouts and nutrition as I sipped. My eyes wandered to her breasts and those lovely abs now and then. She complimented me on sticking to the plan, she knew it was tough, and I'd done a great job. She asked me if I'd consider competing at some point. It would take more work. However, she'd love to help me if that was a possible goal of mine. I smiled, thanking her and declining the invitation.
Cynthia slowly changed the subject to more personal things, like how I was feeling, whether I was talking to anyone about my situation, or if I had started seeing anyone. When she asked if I was seeing anyone, I turned crimson.
Her eyes lit up as she asked me who. I didn't want to tell her and being the nice person she is, she didn't pry.
We returned to the competition topic. That's when Cynthia began the seduction by buttering me up.
She looked at me, gesturing with a finger, "Stand up."
“Huh?”
Once more, "Stand up. Let me look at you."
I stood, wondering what she was up to.
Twirling her finger, “Turn.”
I gave her a quizzical look but turned.
“Flex for me.”
“Cynthia!”
“Come on, flex.”
I flexed my biceps as I blushed.
“Here, no, like this.”
Cynthia rose and began flexing for me. I stood staring as she teased me showing off her muscles. Cynthia isn't overly fit; just looking at her. But, when she was flexing, there was definite muscle tone, and I was tingling.
She stopped, “Take off your top and show me.”
I replied, "What? Here in the kitchen? Why? You've seen me before."
She smiled, "I've never seen you flex. I think you could do very well in your age group in competitions. You seem to love working out and are at the gym more than ever. Show me."
I sighed, “I'm at the gym to get my mind off other things, not to show off.”
Her smile disappeared, and her voice became stern, "Show me."
Another deep sigh, "Fine."
I removed my top, setting it on the back of the chair. I started making muscles, not knowing what I was doing. Cynthia stood, watching me try to flex. I did the best I could, not knowing what I was doing. I remembered how Hans and Franz did it on Saturday Night Live, so I did the thing where they ball their fists and bend forward. That made Cynthia laugh.
"No, sweetie, only men do that. Let me show you. Here. Let's go to my room, and I'll put on the heels I used to wear when I competed."
She took my hand and then led me to her bedroom, my top still on the kitchen table. Her bedroom was typical, with a king-sized bed, dressers, and nightstands, but she had one huge walk-in closet. I think that closet was the size of my guest room. Eric had one wall for clothes and shoes, while Cynthia's wardrobe took up the other two walls. I thought I had a ton of shoes, but Cyn's collection put mine to shame. She had heels, running shoes, boots, you name it, and not just one pair or style. The girl was addicted, not that it was a bad thing.
I marveled at all of them as she fumbled around for her clear Olympic Mules, as she called them. I would have said stripper heels because I don't know the difference. She found them tucked under some other boxes. Pulling them out, she looked at them and sighed. Probably recalling how it was to compete in them.
She stood, holding them out to me, “Seven? I'm guessing. They only come in full sizes.”
I looked them over as she handed them to me. They were strapless to elongate the legs for a sleek, fabulous look she mentioned.
She finished describing them as I stepped out of my flats to try them on.
Cyn was bubbling, "They have a five-inch heel and a three-quarter-inch platform, flexible, somewhat soft plastic upper, cushioned insole for amazing comfort, and rounded footbed. I loved the clear and silver rhinestones. Sort of slutty, but not too much. Let me see how you look in them. Oh, take off your skirt first. I want to see those leg muscles."
What was I getting into? Competition? Me? I humored Cyn, removing my skirt as she returned to the dusty boxes pile, looking for another pair. I left the closet to put my skirt on the bedroom chair and my shoes. I returned and used the doorway to help balance myself as I slipped on the heels.
In my absence, Cynthia had found another pair and slipped into those. I tried putting the mules on but kept getting distracted by Cyn's legs in those shoes. I could see why they used them. Her calves looked amazing with them on.
Those shoes were a bit more slutty you might say. Six-inch spike heel in black with a clear ankle strap and peep toes. I was getting moist looking at her as she twisted and turned, looking at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door.
She saw me gawking at her, "You like these, I can tell."
I swallowed hard, "You look amazing in them, Cyn, and yes, I do."
She grinned as I stood there wearing her mules in my plain old panties and bra. Cynthia is at least two inches taller than me. With me in five-inch heels and her in six-inch ones, I felt she towered over me, somewhat like Jillian. Both being blonde and fit added to the appeal of both women.
With a sly grin, she suggested, "Let's walk around a bit so you can get used to them. Strut for me, Kath."
“As long as you do too. I feel a bit weird walking in your shoes. They do feel kinda comfy despite being different.”
We started walking around her bedroom. I was surprised I managed so well. Most of my heels are four inches or less. That extra inch wasn't so hard to deal with. After a few minutes, I became more confident strutting around in them. So confident that I started walking like a runway model, strutting and showing off. It was becoming a little game. I'd stop, look at Cyn, pose, flex, and walk more around her bedroom. She'd smile, correct my pose, hands-on, and then let me continue. She got into it, too, showing me how to puff up, smile, turn, and bend to show off my assets.
After a bit, she sat on the edge of the bed to watch. I thought I saw her squirm as I got bolder, posing with more enthusiasm. She whistled and did a little cat calling to which I replied with a purr and a grin.
That got her back off the bed to 'correct' a pose or two. I think she just wanted to touch me, which I didn't mind. I was getting worked up seeing her reactions, amazed at how it excited me. When she sat back on the bed, she motioned me over. I walked over slowly and stood with her legs between mine, looking down at her.
She looked up, her hands cupping my ass cheeks, fingers softly massaging me.
Smiling, she whispered, "Are you as turned on as I am?"
I blushed, nodding.
With a sly grin, she continued, "You know what I need?"
I shook my head, “No, but I can guess.”
Her eyes met mine as her hands squeezed my cheeks, “I need your face buried between my legs, Kath. Not here in my room, though. In the guest bedroom, if you don't mind.”
I smiled, “I'd love that, Cyn. I understand about your room. Shall we?”
I backed up to let her stand. When she did, we kissed long and hard. My hands roamed her tight body enjoying how she felt.
When we broke our kiss, she mentioned that she might have something I'd like. My curiosity got the better of me, so I asked. She smiled, telling me it was a surprise. Before going to the guest room, we headed to the closet. Cynthia dug through a pile of boxes tucked away in a corner. She pulled one out, tucked it under her arm, then led me to the other room.