To the reader: what you are about to read are the ramblings of an "older" man who is currently spending a good bit of his time adjusting to the realization that the number of years in which he will continue to be sexually active is decreasing rapidly. As he reaches his 64th birthday this summer, he understands that not only will his physical capabilities begin to suffer, but the actual availability of willing partners will also begin to wane. His marital situation - 40+ years wed - has done nothing to satisfy his desires, as his wife is one who was brought up in her early years to believe that sexual relations were a bare necessity and nothing else. They are necessary for "wifely duties" during the first few years of a marriage and they are necessary for "reproduction purposes" during the period of time when it is convenient to produce a family. But, in her way of thinking, there is simply no other reason to engage in any sort of physical relationship after a family is produced.
Nothing that this older man could do or say within the past 26 years has had any impact on her mind-set. He has, therefore, sought physical comfort and solace outside of the marriage. He has enjoyed several long-term relationships over the 26 years since his youngest child was born; and has, on infrequent occasions, taken a chance on "one-night-stand" involvements. Just recently, he has come to the realization that he may face the next 20-30 years (his health is perfect) without any sort of physical involvement with the opposite sex. This has caused him much mental anguish because he realizes that even though his physical needs will diminish with time and age, his mental and emotional requirements will not. There have been moments of panic in the past few months, but he has now begun a campaign of getting "as much as he can, as often as he can, as long as he can" in the hopes that his recent memories will serve him well when he reaches the point that females will not consider a physical relationship with him.
Here follows the first in a series of events that have taken place within the bounds of that campaign. There will be future episodes as they develop and come to fruition.
The stories will be told in the first person, simply for ease of writing. It will be up to the reader to determine whether these chapters are autobiographical or not.
* * * * *
It was not difficult getting her attention. She had been sitting at a table with three friends for nearly an hour while I sat at the end of the bar, nursing several vodka-tonics. She and I have coincidentally run into each other twice before in restaurants or other public places in the past few months. We have known each other for more than fifteen years. She had, at one time, been a School Board Director in the district in which I had served as high school principal. We had never quite seen eye-to-eye on issues. She had made life rather difficult at times for me, but we seemed to respect each other and remained casual friends outside of the educational arena. She had chosen not to place her name into candidacy during this past election and I had retired from my position just a few months before, after 35 years of service.
My decision to make a run at her was based not in any desire for revenge or humiliation; it was simply a physical attraction that had been there for many of the 15 years of acquaintanceship. She was in her mid-40's and nicely arranged at some 5' 7" and perhaps 135 lbs. Her hair hadn't been cut, or appeared not to have been, for more years than I could remember and when she chose to wear it unpinned, fell more than six or seven inches below her shoulders. The length of her hair was one attribute I could never have overlooked, and the color of it was absolutely stunning - a deep, dark, auburn-red that absolutely shined when she sat under a light source, as she was at this moment. Her eyes were as dark as any I've seen on a woman and while I could never say I'd seen them 'smolder,' I can say that they have always looked at me with a keen intelligence.
Right at this moment, they were looking directly at me with more question than anything else. I had nodded in her direction a while ago, when she finally saw me sitting there and acknowledged my presence with a nod of her own. I had lifted my glass in her direction and had sent her and her friends a round of whatever they were drinking. At this point, I understood that she was curious, but I made no more moves except to be certain to be looking at her whenever she raised her eyes in my direction.
Finally, she could not abide the not-knowing, and excused herself to her friends and walked to the ladies' room. On the way back, she stopped next to me and said, "Hello, Edward. How have you been? I haven't seen you around lately. What have you been up to?"
I swiveled around in my chair and looked at her. Tall, tanned, attractive enough, soft green sweater set and brown flannel slacks that tapered down her long legs as if tailored specifically for her (and perhaps they had been). (Allow me to insert here that the other important attribute of any woman, at least for me, is her legs. I have found that shapely, well-toned legs indicate more physical attraction than do breasts in any shape or size. Hers were most certainly well within the bounds of "shapely and well-toned." They appeared to go on forever, and I had often sat opposite her during committee meetings where I could observe her legs under the table, crossing and uncrossing until I felt that familiar stirring in my crotch.) I lifted one hand and touched her upper arm and said, "Now that I am retired, I've been taking some time for myself. I've been satisfying some of those long-term fantasies and dreams that I could not devote either the time or the energy to while I was working." And I gave her upper arm just a tiny squeeze before removing my hand.
