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It had been a long day. My co-worker and I had spent the day in the spa city at a convention. The day would have been excruciatingly boring had we not decided to liven things up by playing hooky. Instead of sitting in on seminars dealing with topics such as "Polyvinyl Chloride versus Ductile Iron" we had gone horse back riding. The riding had been fun and I still had visions of the way Samantha had looked in her jeans. Samantha is a very beautiful woman. She is five feet seven inches tall with dark brown shoulder length hair. Her athletic figure is near-perfect with ample breasts, slim waist, and a small rounded derriere that often puts less than honorable thoughts into my head. She has a striking face that most people find very attractive. I've often found myself looking into those beautiful green eyes during conversations at work and wanting to kiss her.

Up to this point, however, we have had a platonic relationship. During my divorce nearly six months ago I had turned to Samantha as a friend to talk to. Samantha had also gone through a divorce earlier in her life and it had helped me to hear her perspective. Over the last few months we have formed a common bond. We talk on the phone nearly every night, sharing our problems, our victories, our joys, and our headaches. There is virtually nothing that we can't talk to each other about and we have become the best of friends. Although I would be lying if I said that there hadn't been any sexual tension between us, for the most part we have been content to be best friends and we both have been reluctant to risk a great friendship by taking our ...

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