It happened nine years ago.
But first, a little background.
I met my wife was I was 23 and she was 22. When we met, we both had just started graduate school, and she was still living at home with her parents.
The first time that I picked her up for a date at her parent’s house, I met her mother. For the story only, I’ll call her mother, Sandy.
Sandy was tall, lean, thin, and well-groomed. Perfectly done hair, nails, and just a little bit of makeup. Sandy was around 49 years old, but she looked like she was in her 20s. Even today, I remember the casual outfit Sandy was wearing the first time I met her. She had on light-wash jeans and a white crew-neck t-shirt. Her outfit was casual, but I had this instant physical attraction to her. Since I always had a thing for mature women, I didn’t think much of the attraction, and my (now) wife and I went on our date.
Over the years, my relationship with Sandy grew friendly. However, a tinge of awkwardness always hovered when she and I were around each other because my attraction had grown to an insatiable sexual desire for Sandy.