Half My Age (1)

#fucketlist item 7: Fucking a man half my age
Sometimes I see young men around me and I see how they look at me, especially when I wear low-cut or short dresses. I always wonder how far they would go if they are given the opportunity to come onto me. Would a man half my age want to fuck me?

The above is an item on my fucketlist.
This story is about me, Master T and a young man, three years short of 30. I have written it in the third person for two reasons: the main one to protect the young man, but also because when I started writing, I actually planned to post this as fiction. However, this really happened, but I didn’t want to change it to the first person narrative, so am posting this as is.

Like she had done every Wednesday and Friday afternoon for the last six months, Paula sat at a table in the working corner of the lobby of a hotel in the city center. The place had proved to be a source of intense inspiration for her third novel. People walked in and out of the lobby all day long – some to check into the hotel, others to have a quick drink and business people meeting. Paula loved the snippets of conversations she heard, some of which was interesting enough to use in her writing. Mostly she loved the different kinds of people she saw and building characters in her novel around them.

From where she sat, Paula had a perfect view on the bar. It was Friday afternoon and soon ‘the regulars’ as Paula had come to call them, would crowd the bar. That would be Paula’s sign to close her laptop, put it in her bag and join those regulars. Nowadays Paula and her husband were part of the ‘in-crowd’, but months ago it had been different. Then Paula went home the moment the bar got too loud and crowded. Until one Friday afternoon. Her husband surprised her by coming to the hotel lobby before she could go home. They joined the people at the bar, ordered a drink and got involved in a conversation. The next Friday they did the same and soon it became a habit.

There was a time though when Paula and her husband, Geoff, almost stopped joining the others at the bar on Friday. That was when he – a typical sleek and popular young salesman – started coming to the bar too. From the first day they saw him his over-confident and too-smooth ways irritated them. They never spoke to him, but just finished their drinks and went home. This they did a couple of times, until one Friday evening. Paula sat on one side of the bar, talking to one of the older men. He asked about the progress of her novel. Her husband stood on the other side of the bar, deep in conversation with a man in a suit, probably a banker. Paula’s attention returned to the man next to her and it must have been over an hour later that she glanced back in Geoff’s direction. Her eyes grew wide when she saw him talking to the too-smooth-young-man, David.

From that moment on she couldn’t keep her mind with the conversation going on around her. It took her a while before she politely excused herself and walked over to join her husband. She didn’t say anything, but just listened to the conversation between the two men after they had both acknowledged her presence.
“But,” David said and smiled at Paula, “I want to know more about you two. I have met some of the other regulars here, but I know little about you.”
Paula was surprised by his interest. She had seen him talking to some of the other people there and had heard him occasionally asking about someone’s health. Had she drawn the wrong conclusion about the young man, she wondered while listening to Geoff’s answer.

A nice conversation followed – one in which Paula told David that she was working on her novel, but also that her novel was filled with sex. She had no idea why she told him that. For some or other reason all aversion she had felt towards him, had disappeared. His jovial and slick manners said nothing about the serious young man underneath. The next couple of Fridays she had more conversations with him and noticed that she looked forward to seeing him. She had come to know him as a young man who had a genuine interest in the people around him and that his jovial way was nothing more than a front. She sensed that he loved people, no matter their age.

One Friday he came in, dressed in a suit.
“One beer and I’m gone,” he said.
“Why?” Paula asked, a bit disappointed.
“I have a date. It’s the third date actually, but who knows, she might stay with me tonight.”
“Ooh la la,” Paula laughed.
“And,” David said and leaned in closer to Paula, “if she stays, I will tell you everything that happened.”
“Everything. In detail. Inspiration for your book.”

To be continued… Half My Age (2)

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© Rebel’s Notes

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