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Letters to Domai


A Friendship

About 25 years ago I decided to go back to graduate school to pick up my MBA. Moving to a new city I needed a place to stay quickly. On the student housing board I saw a listing for a room in a house with some other students. The place had four bedrooms, 2 baths and shared a pool with the house behind the property. Not knowing anyone in the city, I thought this would be a way to meet some people.

I called and met with the fellow who had the lease on the house and as they had one room left, he immediately rented it to me, without consulting with the other two, who, as it turned out, were female undergraduates.

The next day I brought my things over. Walking into the living room, I spotted one of the girls up on a ladder, hanging curtains. She had dark hair, and in the fashion of the time, wore a peasant blouse and army fatigues, which complimented her petite body. I remember my first impression, looking up at her from below. What a fine figure, and cute little behind.

Her name was Joanie and she took and immediate disliking to me. I, of course, an MBA student, represented everything she hated. She was an Liberal Arts major and thought all things "business" was tainted and corrupt. I could relate to her attitude, but having worked for a few years before returning to graduate school, I also knew some of her perceptions and values were a bit idealistic and naive. Try as I might, though, there was nothing I could say or do right.

To aggravate the situation, we shared a bathroom. This was another source of conflict, as I was never one to pay attention to things like cleaning. Our schedules were different enough, however, so we rarely ran into each other, except in the evening.

She was very pretty, and I always forgave a lot of things, because of beauty. She has very piercing brown eyes and a nice smile. Eventually she grew to tolerate me. I figured that was about as good as it would ever get. She ran in her group and I ran in mine and we rarely crossed paths that first semester.

One morning, during the second semester, I overslept, and running down the hall to take my morning shower, I found the door closed. I could hear Joanie inside. I knocked, hoping this would let her know I was waiting. I hardly finished knocking, when the door flew open. Joanie stood there, hair wet, holding a towel in front of her. She must have just stepped out of the shower. I was so startled I can't even remember if I tried to blurt something out, an apology or an explanation, or just stared.

She smiled. Slipping past me in the narrow hallway, she made no attempt to secure the towel behind her and I was greeted by a full view of her slim, damp back and her round firm buttocks. She paused in front of her bedroom door, fumbling with the door knob, but she did not seem to be in any hurry to hide her nakedness,. It was like it was the most natural thing in the world. She finally opened her door and stepped inside, and closed it behind her.

By the time I had finished my shower that morning, she was gone. This spared me the awkward situation of what to say in the kitchen while I made my breakfast.

It was all I could think of that day. That evening, she made no mention of the morning's encounter, although I thought she gave me a knowing look.

Some weeks passed and I had almost forgotten about the morning episode. It was late evening and it was already quite dark. I had been studying all day and through dinner and I decided to take a stroll behind the house to clear my head. As I walked by the pool, I heard a splash and a greeting, "Hello". Not expecting someone in the pool at this hour, I jumped a foot in the air.

It was Joanie. She swam up to the end of the pool where I stood, and without saying another word, flipped over on her back in the water and began to swim another lap. In the moonlight I could see she was naked. Again, at a loss for words, I continued to walk a short distance, desperately trying to think of a way to return, without seeming like a voyeur.

Finally figuring she was obviously not ashamed, I returned, and simply asked, "Are you skinny dipping?"

"Sure am," she answered.

"Mind if I join you?" I said.

"Not at all."

She pulled herself up to the edge of the pool and watched as I undressed. I suppose now was my turn to return the favor from that morning a few weeks earlier.

We swam for about 15 minutes, saying little. She finally climbed out of the pool, draped a towel around her, and walked back in the house. It was too dark to see much, but I did see a glint of moonlight of her fine glistening backside. Her casualness was erotic and sensual.

Although the ice had been broken, it still took me some time to come up with the nerve to ask her to spend an evening at a relative's hottub. She readily agreed.

When we got to the house, she asked where to change. I showed her a room, and she quickly removed her skirt and blouse, but to my disappointment she was wearing a swimsuit underneath. I had not planned on this. I had not worn a swimsuit myself, and concluded that if she was suddenly going to be modest, I had no choice. I turned my back, and disrobed. I could feel her eyes on me.

As I turned, I glanced her way. There she stood, with her swimsuit in her hand. My nakedness may have given her courage, or permission, although I don't think she really needed either. She gave me that beautiful smile of hers, then asked it there was anyone else in the house. I told her we were the only ones.

She immediately stepped out of the room, and began exploring the house. I followed, admiring her lithe body, as she inspected the artwork, peered into rooms and glanced at the bookshelves. Finally satisfied, she asked where the hottub was.

We spend a pleasant evening, drinking wine and looking at the stars. Finally the tension between us disappeared. Nothing sexual occurred that evening or any of the many other evenings we spent in the hot tub that next year, before she finally graduated and moved away.

Eventually we lost touch, but that first encounter in the hallway was one of my fondest memories. I never met another woman who was as free and natural and so totally unashamed of her body.


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