Age Not Always an Issue

CHAPTER 1

Fired at the age of five-four as part of the vehicle assembly plant's downsizing to ride out the economic downturn, Carson Kline was living alone because his wife had gone to live with her eighty-seven year old mom. Sara had found Carson's increased demand for sex since being out of work intolerable, not that she'd been much interested way back when becoming pregnant for the third time. Anyway she was tired of him and called him 'over-active'.

Carson missed the sex and thought of buttering up some of his wife's friends but it was difficult to feel inspired when they all looked past it or almost ready for the final one. He went to the gym three times a week whereas exercise for most of them was walking to the bathroom and padding around the supermarket, library or doctor's clinic.

The supermarket? Carson thought about that. There would be wives there feeling romance and indeed excitement had gone from their lives. If only he could get his hands on those women. He knew that was frowned up, being called adultery, but that was just propaganda spread by religious zealots and used by husbands and wives to keep their spouses on the leash, He knew it was propaganda because he'd committed adultery a couple of times and hadn't fallen dead, pierced to heart by the enormity of his social 'crime'. His more immediate concern was the thought that it might drop off if he didn't use it.

A week later Carson was in the supermarket reading the notice board for opportunities for casual work, not really thinking he'd find one saying something like, 'Sexy woman wants man to mow lawns and fill all holes'... er in the lawn. But he did find the supermarket's own ad, '5-hour shift work for Parking Lot Security Officer. Uniform provided'.

Uniform? Women had a thing about men in uniform didn't they, unless receiving traffic violation tickets?

He applied. The woman chewing gum with a bank of ten security screens on the wall in front of her asked, 'Do you know anything about security and keeping safe?"

"Yes ma'am. I was in the army for eleven years defending you and your country and retired as an E-7, er sergeant first class."

"Oh my, and you look like you have kept in good nick."

"Yes ma'am."

"Well bring in references and evidence of your work record and I'll probably hire you."

Her name was Debra. He was hired but the blue uniform he was issued with was a bad fit.

"I'm not wearing this."

"Well you are fired."

"Debra, please don't be such a bitch."

The gum flew around her mouth. "All right. We usually only attract scum for this work. She gave him an address of a back street tailor. "He's an illegal immigrant and knows we know so makes our uniforms very cheaply. Go to him."

"What can I give you in return Debra?"

She looked horrified and said her husband would kill her if he found out.

Carson pressed and she turned red-faced and admitted she preferred women.

On Monday Carson started on his new job, his two uniforms fitting him like gloves, not that he wore the two together. When asked Debra what his duties involved she asked him what did he think they were. 'Keeping an eye out for vehicle break-ins, shoppers being molested, the perimeter fencing being breached, shoppers with vehicle problems and show myself to your security cameras every half hour so you or your fill-in know I'm okay and am on the job 9:00 to 2:00 and I'll be required to work a double or even treble shift if other security guys fail to show."

Her mouth had dropped open and she said, "How did you know that?"

"It's the minimum of what I thought would be required."

"You'll put me out of my job as head of security before too long."

"Nah, I desire to work outside. All my years working, my ass has only had short periods on a seat, like during meal breaks."

As soon as he'd been hired Carson had been to the police as part of registration as a security officer. He was already licensed to carry a firearm and was granted a license extension to carry a baton and handcuffs to deal with 'outrages' in the parking lot or in the supermarket but not, of course, two shoppers fighting over a parking space... unless they drew weapons.

At 9.09 on his first day Carson helped a partially crippled guy load his groceries into the trunk of the car. At 9:10 Debra radioed and said well done; Mr Meek shopped with them twice weekly. She then asked for a radio test with Carson calling her. There was no problem with that.

During that day Carson saw a number of tight assed-women bent over putting shopping into the trunk or heaving large bags through the tailgate of SUVs but by in large his offers of assistance were either ignored or dismissed with a slightly-frightened or tentative smile. After he signed off at 2:00 he went home to change and took both uniforms to the back street tailor after buying gold braid epaulettes and gold lanyards he'd picked up from a military surplus store. Jimmy the tailor attached them to the shirts while he waited. At home Carson sewed on three copper half-rounded buttons on to the shoulder straps that looked roughly like the stars on a lieutenant general's uniform and admired his handiwork with a satisfied smile.

Carson arrived next morning in his tarted-up uniform and wearing his highly polished ex-Army boots and a surplus store garrison cap from a South American army. Handcuffs and a larger baton were now attached to his military web belt. He snapped a salute at Debra who colored, tittered and said, "Oh god Carson, don't make me change my sexual persuasion."

He grinned and said she'd be more useful to him by keeping the operations manager off his back. Debra said he wouldn't like the uniform change from standard issue.

"Tell him you are experimenting to see if shoppers react more positively to a military-style security presence in the parking areas."

"Okay."

Carson put on his aviator sunglasses and marched out into his domain, feeling as if the parking lots of 400 spaces and those using them, were under his command, not that he intended acting officiously unless dealing with the enemy. His impact was immediate.

"Excuse me colonel."

"Yes ma'am."

The short fat blonde in her early thirties said she wondered if she had a flattie.

"They look big enough and equal shape to me ma'am."

Turning crimson she said, "Oh no," and touching her breasts said they were real. Her car appeared to feel bumpy coming into the parking lot.

"Those are anti-speed humps to slow traffic ma'am. However I'll take a casual look at your tires. I really need a pressure gauge."

The tires looked fine but Carson reported the tread on the right rear tire looked almost dangerously worn.

"Oh thank you. May we talk again soon?"

"I don't see why not. My name is Carson."

"Oh, what a beautiful name for a man. Bye."

In the next parking lot closer to the exit (Carson knew most brainless women parked nearer the entrance), he spotted a great ass bent over.

"May I help you ma'am."

"It's miss," she said, straightening up and scowling. "Please load those two heavy boxes of tinned fruit. Are you aware I'm the mayor's daughter?"

"No but I won't hold that against you."

"She looked at him suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying if Mayor Collins is unpopular you cannot be blamed for that."

"Oh really?"

Carson loaded the two cartons and then was off, touching his cap, no longer interested because her chest was almost flat. He walked learning women spent quite a bit of time standing at the trunk of their car or the tailgate of their SUV unloading from supermarket trolleys. He patrolled drawing admiring glances and then he saw a great ass.

"Ma'am may I help you?"

The redhead backed out of her trunk. Her sunglasses were askew and she looked at him without reservation, straightening her hem and sunglasses simultaneously with that ambidextrous manner most women seem to posses. She smiled, looked at his shoulders and said, "Good morning general. You are the highest-ranked supermarket trolley boy I've ever come across."

He smiled and said, "Call me Carson ma'am. I'm security."

The ample bosom shook in laughter. "Thank you but no thank you. I'm finished here. Some other time perhaps?"

"Maybe. Good morning."

"And good morning to you General Carson."

Well that one was close, Carson thought. During his lunch break he polished his boots and in the staff lunchroom noticed women packers and their supervisors were glancing him in awe. Unfortunately by virtue of their work they were lower ranks, to be avoided. After work that afternoon he took his two shirts to Jimmy and had him embroider the word 'Security' across the outer end of each epaulette and at Jimmy's suggestion, delivered in broken English, he wrote out his name Carson and Jimmy used his computerized machine to embroider that on the left breast pocket of each shirt.

"My wife over there. She want to surrender to you Mr General. No charge."

The woman looked scruffy so Carson smiled and said 'Great honor but no thanks' and paid for the work and tipped Jimmy.

"Jimmy very pleased," Jimmy said, looking at the additional twenty bucks to the charge-out price of seven bucks.

Carson ended his first week without establishing carnal connection. He told himself: patience, it would come. During that week he'd reported changing a wheel for a useless university professor who wasn't even aware tires had air in them, broken up two fights between youths, dealt with four incidents of road rage and solved eight cases of reported stolen vehicles by finding them where the women had parked, up near the entrance (the exit was halfway down the building at the checkouts). He also took the descriptions from four women alleging molestation and in each case noted in his opinion two of the women appeared paranoid and two were drunk.

"A very good first week for you," Debra reported. "Management is well pleased."

"And um how did the operations manager respond to your explanation about my uniform?"

"Oh I decided not to raise the issue with him. Actually he raised it at this morning's management meeting, complimenting me for allowing you to have some flexibility with embellishments to your standard-issue uniform. His wife had shopped the previous day and you kindly helped her load her SUV. She told the boss the General of Security was so pleasant and with a name-tag identifying himself she felt the more secure she'd ever been in any parking lot. There will be a fifty-buck bonus in your pay packet when you collect it on the way out. Well done my action hero."

* * *

It was Friday night so Carson, still in uniform, went into Stella's Bar as usual. The premises were usually well lit, showing up beer stains, spittle blobs and cockroaches. And then action hero clicked into gear and accelerated as he'd been trained to do, his focus narrow-vision and drawing out his weapon, in this case his baton.

Stella was at the till being robbed.

Carson completed his charge, whacking the knife-wielding guy over his head and he dropped like a stone, knife clattering to the floor. Stella screamed and shot backwards, bringing down a display of whiskies over her, one hitting her head and she slumped forward.

"Cut! What the fuck are you doing you jerk," screamed a woman. The bright lights extinguished. Carson turned and saw a film crew gathered around a huge camera on a tripod and swore at them. The black-haired beauty with red, red snarling lips came forward and hurled her clipboard at him. He caught it and handed it back, saying politely, "This is yours ma'am I believe."

She looked at him in disbelief. "What are you... I mean who are you?"

"Carson Kline ma'am, supermarket parking lot security officer."

"What, a three-star general."

"Look closely ma'am and you will see it's sheer adornment simply to impress the ladies. Do you like strange men approaching you in a supermarket parking lot, even if they're smiling."

"Certainly not."

"Well there you are ma'am. When I approach women and they see me dressed like this, the parking lot seems to become a whole lot safer and they smile at me confidently and allow me to load heavy items for them."

For a second the woman's mouth opened soundlessly and then it snapped shut and reopened as she snarled, "You've assaulted Guy my actor and knocked out Mrs Bennett."

"Stella is hard as nails. After a couple of drinks she'll be laughing over this. Whisky being in heavy bottles will be mostly intact. But your gay guy will take twenty-four hours to recover.

"Gay? How did you know Guy was gay?"

"With a name like Guy plus being an actor, I rest my case ma'am."

"Hmmmm. That's a wrap guys. We'll re-shoot same time tomorrow hopefully with Action Hero here behind bars. Has someone called the cops?"

Stella, bleeding from a cut on the forehead, climbed to her feet and said, "Don't anyone call the cops. I'm on my second warning after recent disturbances. Hi Carson."

"Hi Stella. My apologies for committing mayhem; I honestly thought you were under attack."

"Of course you did. These Thickheads ought to have a sign up at the door saying filming under progress."

"We did have a sign up."

"Ah Ella?"

"Yes James?"

"The sign is in the van. You yelled at me to drop everything and attend to lighting."

Ella the pretty one said, "You're fired."

"Carson rapped his baton on his palm and said you can't do that. It's unjustified. It was you fault. Admit it or I'll wrap his stick around your backside."

"And I'll have you done for assault."

"Not in my bar you won't," said the unsmiling Stella holding up a canister of pepper spray.

"James, as you were. It was my fault placing undue pressure on you."

"Thank you."

Ella looked unhappy and complained to Stella, "That's fake spray in that can."

Stella said, "Oh yeah, well what's this one?" and picked up a second canister and displayed the word 'Prop' written down it in large black writing.

Ella turned white.

Carson took over. "Okay crew, pack up and return for drinks on the house. It's all Stella's fault for allowing her respectable bar to be used for filming purposes. Return same time tomorrow and I'll stay away. Come on Ella," he said, dragging her by the arm to a booth, "You look in need of a drink."

A call awoke Carson around 3:00.

"Thanks."

"Who's speaking," Carson asked suspiciously.

"Ella, Ella Cosgrove. I don't hold my liquor well so after three drinks last night on top of all that tension I flaked like a teenager."

"That's okay. I found your card in your handbag along with your keys, located your vehicle after trying to unlock several and drove you home. I undressed you but left on your underwear and wrote my phone number on the back of your card."

"Yes, the card popped out of my panties a few minutes ago when I went to pee. Did you sexually interfere with me?"

"No."

"Thank you."

"Bye."

"No wait Carson. Dinner tonight, my place at 8:00."

"No."

"Why not."

"I'm fifty-four. If you're lonely find someone around your age. What are you, thirty-six?"

"That's my bust and hips. My age is thirty-eight and I'm only lonely because I'm an abandoned wife and can't find men who are men."

Carson muttered was that so and she said yes.

"Please Carson. We won't fuck if you don't want that to happen."

"I thought the invitation was for dinner."

She giggled. The giggle got to him so he said okay.

CHAPTER 2

Ella Cosgrove awoke just before midday, feeling a little fragile but okay. She went out for breakfast and over low-fat milk and two scrambled eggs thought about Action Hero. She needed to have a guy as a companion and Carson fitted well apart from age. He was polite beyond belief and she knew she'd trust him with her life. He'd been an army man, holding the rank of sergeant when not signing back on, taking early retirement. He'd then struggled to find work and finally got a job fitting exhaust systems on a vehicle assembly line and within a year was made assistant floor supervisor of that line and less than a year later was promoted to supervisor and then laid-off just a few months ago. That profile fitted that of a stable and possibly thoroughly nice guy.

Walking back to her apartment in a warehouse above her business, Ella thought of herself as a thoroughly nice woman. She'd married young to a much older guy now somewhere with a woman whom she'd learned was closer to his age. She'd taken media studies at college and when she failed to get a position as a reporter joined a film crewed and worked up to become script supervisor, head PA, assistant film editor, script re-write editor and finally assistant director. With that background she established her own small unit, making short films for companies seeking to publicize their profile on the web and producing film clips for other clients who included charitable organizations and companies requiring commercial education for their people. When Action Hero had burst on to the scene, they were filming for the liquor industry an education film on best practice for bar staff during a hold-up.

A sudden thought seized Ella and she raced downstairs to the studio. Hank had downloaded yesterday's digital filming on to computer so she ran it and watched it in delight, knowing why it wasn't in the 'reject' archive. Hank would have wanted to show it to her. It was hilarious, with Action Hero coming out of the blue and dropping Guy like a stone. She'd screamed out, off camera of course, and Action Hero turned and staring at her grimly asked, "What the fuck is this carry-on?"

When she finished wiping her eyes Ella thought she'd build this into the short film and get the commissioning executive to sign her the rights to that particular clip because she could on-sell it to 'TV Bloopers' for perhaps big money.

God, Carson had looked every bit a professional actor as he caught the clipboard she'd hurled at him and said gravely, "This is yours ma'am I believe." She'd set up the aftermath for the shoot in the studio with Carson repeating that line and handing the clipboard back to her. God it was so funny. But would he do it? Ella decided yes he'd cooperate and she knew he'd fuck her that night. Ella was good at predicting how people would react. As insurance she'd act like a woman in great need and Action Hero would feel obliged to nail her to the sofa.

* * *

Carson arrived dressed in black and wearing orange shoes. Carson felt her thighs tremble as she looked at him. "Hi Action... I mean Carson. Welcome, please come in."

"Jesus!"

Well that was a novel greeting. Ella was wearing her tightest dress -- white and gathered with a halter neck. She couldn't allow her biggish breasts to wallow free so had them in a demi-bra and knew she was partly spilling into sight. Mr Not Interested Kline licked his top lip and Ella wondered if her panties were already damp at the crotch. Ah yes, she could feel it.

She just didn't hold her head up to be kissed. She kissed him. He didn't pull away so she kept right on kissing him and opened her mouth. He opened his; he did what was expected of him and as their tongue tips touched she left her body sensors respond and possibly a slight electrical shock on her damp vulva. She felt exhilarated so pushed him away and said, "Come on, you need to eat first." She'd not added the next bit, knowing he was an intelligent man and she was already aware his breathing rate had stepped up. Ella was wondering about the thickness and coloring of his dick -- oh she was in such need -- when he pulled her back and she realized he'd just saved her walking into the doorframe.

"Oh what am I doing? Thank you."

"You are doing very well. I've never had such a fantastic greeting arriving at a near stranger's home."

"Please sit yourself comfortably in there," Ella said vaguely, pointing to the lounge. "I'll get you a drink. Beer or white or red wine."