Author's Note: True story, names have been changed. Also my first story, so please by kind. Constructive criticism welcome.
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The party had been nice. Nothing too crazy or loud nor boring. Yet I still left early. It was missing something: Men. For some reason it had felt like a tiresome bachelorette party. I was on my way home even if I didn't feel like going home just yet. So when I went by the fancy 5-Star-Hotel I decided to take a breezer. I went past the concierge desk directly toward the lounge & bar. Not many people were around, slow jazzy music was playing in the background. It looked really fancy, not like something I would stay at, me being a first year college student and all.
I sat on an empty bar stool and put my purse before me. I knew I would need it in a second. The barkeeper came strolling towards me and asked what I wanted to drink. When I ordered a cocktail, he asked for my ID. But I was prepared. I checked my purse and offered my awesome fake ID I had been using for two months now. It was a work of art. He looked at it for a second and said he would be right back with my drink. Oh it felt great being fake 21.
I took out my phone and started checking my messages and news and whatnot. The cocktail arrived. The barkeeper smiled at me, it seemed he was admiring my cleavage while trying to be all secretive about it. He failed. He was interested, that much was obvious. He was in his late 20s. Not my type. Too young, way too young. I took a sip of my drink. It was nice. Only three people were in the lounge this time of night and they all seemed busy with their own stuff. I had lounge music, a nice drink and peace.
I was engrossed in my Facebook feed and all the weird stuff happening in other people's lives when I heard someone clear his throat right next to me. I looked up and saw him. He stood a few feet away, smiling at me, not lecherously, more a little embarrassed. He was in his mid to late 50s so I guessed. Nice suit, golden watch, almost bald, some grey patches on the side, piercing blue eyes behind some fancy rimless glasses and a little overweight.
I smiled back at him with a surprised look on my face.
"Oh I'm sorry, Miss, I was just wondering if I might join you for a drink and some interesting conversation?"
Oh yes, he was nervous. He spoke very stilted and overly formal. I nodded, "Of course, take a seat." He seemed nice enough.
He sat on the barstool right next to me and his smile wouldn't leave his face. It seemed genuine; he was elated for some reason. Maybe because here was a young girl that didn't turn him down? Probably.
Though for me this wasn't anything unusual. I liked older men, but only the gentleman type. I appreciated their manners, experience and skills in life as well as the bedroom. College guys and guys my age in general seemed to be mainly thinking about themselves - at least in my experience. Sex always ended with them cumming too soon which left me to my own devices. Older skilled men on the other hand were all about experiencing every inch my body and teasing me until I exploded into a bunch of rainbows. I was soo into that one.
"My name is Andrew, and yours, Miss?"
"Call me Nikki. Can I call you Andy?"
He beamed. "Of course, I would like that very much."
We toasted with our glasses and drank.
"May I ask what a beautiful young woman like yourself is doing here that time of night?"
He called me a "Woman", not "Girl". I liked that.
"I was just heading home from a party and needed a little quiet me time. The drink is nice too."
"I apologize if I ruined your me time."
"Not all all, I like a good talk with interesting people now and then." I gave him a big smile. He seemed great so far. A total gentleman, good with words (and his tongue too I'm sure). He was no model but that wasn't what this was all about for me.
He smiled back. "You just called me interesting. No one has called me that for quite a while."
"Not even your wife? I doubt that."
"I'm divorced. 5 years now."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Andy."
He beamed at hearing his nickname. "It's ok, it's for the best."
I got hornier the longer we talked. I wasn't into talking for hours right now. I needed some action. That damn overly feminine party had left me leaving unsatisfied. So I decided to go for it.
"Does that mean you haven't been with a woman for a while?"
He stared at me in mock shock. "You are quite the curious young woman, aren't you?"
"Sorry if I'm being blunt, but I'm really just curious."
"That's fine, I will answer your question. Let's just say that I am not as active as I would like to be. There aren't many women out there that are attracted to an old guy like me."
I shook my head. "I don't believe that for a second. You're polite, interesting, a real gentleman. Every woman would be lucky to have you. And anyway, age is just a number, right?!"
Seconds passed. He looked at me with his experienced steely blue eyes, his smile faded somewhat and he seemed more nervous when he asked: "You too? Would you be lucky to have me?"