Ghosts & Shadows Pt. 02byDanielQSteele1©
Coffee looked at Gail, then at me.
"Did I miss something?"
"You don't speak the language, Coffee," Gail said smiling. "We've known each other too long."
She looked at me, "I'm glad you're moving on Hugh. I was beginning to worry about you."
"I held out as long as I could, but life goes on."
Coffee looked at me with a faint smile.
"I'm just amazed that you would need any help, Hugh. I haven't been here that long, but I've heard about how you've sidestepped a lot of ladies' attempts to get you to step out on - to play outside your marriage, and since - I imagine you must know who's single and available around here."
"Thank you, Coffee. I've had -- opportunities - but I've never taken advantage of any of them, and I haven't been out hitting the night spots to any great extent for a long time. I'd just like some help getting steered to a nice nightspot where an old fossil like myself might...."
"Get lucky," the two women howled.
"That's inelegant, but accurate."
"You can rest easy, Gail," Coffee said. "Let me take him in hand. I know a few spots where he might get lucky."
At 8 p.m. I stepped into Pelicans, a downtown bar that I'd been in a couple of times, squiring around business clients of the bank who wanted to check out Jacksonville's nightlife, such as it was. I tended to like the Beaches bars or a down home place called O'Brien's on Jacksonville's Westside, but Pelicans had a cachet and had been featured in national and regional publications as the 'in place' for the young and hip, or hep, or whatever the hell they were called nowadays.
Coffee stood beside me as we stepped in and guided me to one of the tables for four that were scattered around the floor away from the long bar that ran the length of the establishment along one wall. She saw friends and waved at them.
A minute later we were standing at a table where four attractive young women held court for six guys who were holding and buying drinks.
"Who's your grandfather, Coffee," one of the young guys said with a grin.
The tall redhead sitting immediately next to him jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "Don't be an asshole, Greg. Don't you get enough of that at the law office?"
"No insult taken," I told them, reaching out to shake Greg's hand. "I know I'm a little out of the age range of this crowd, but I still manage to get around pretty good without my walker."
He just grinned and shook his head, taking my hand briefly and then dropping it.
"My bad man. Sorry, just jealous. Any guy walks in with Coffee, I hate him on principle."
A blonde came up behind me and linked her arm inside mine.
"Why do you always grab all the good ones, Coffee? You are such a greedy bitch."
"You're just jealous you can't have them all, Brittany. Actually, you've had most of them, haven't you?"
The blonde just stuck her tongue out at Coffee, then said, "You're married, aren't you? All the good ones are."
Coffee jumped in, "No, Hugh is free. He's just been out of circulation for a while and I decided to give him a taste of the nightlife here in Jax."
"So what do you do, Hugh?" Brittany said, moving her large breasts, that were obviously unconstrained by a bra, against my arm. "You look like a lawyer or a banker."
"He's one of the top men at my bank," Coffee said.
"Oh, what's your title, Hugh?"
"Trying to complete your collection, Brittany?" Coffee snickered.
"You are never going to forget about Rodney, are you?"
"Who? Anyway, you can call Hugh 'The Trouble Shooter'. He's the guy they give problems to."
"That sounds so fascinating. Do you think you might want to buy me a drink and tell me about it?"
Coffee grinned at me and then at Brittany. "I'll let you have him, if you promise to be gentle. That okay with you, Hugh?"
I looked at the tall blonde dressed in a silver outfit that revealed almost as much as it hid, the glossy lips and heavy breasts whose nipples poked out against the fabric.
"That depends -- Brittany! Do you bite?"
She grinned at me, "If I really like you."
I looked back at Coffee, "I'll take my chances. Thanks, Coffee."
"Thank me Monday if you survive."
I have to admit, it was touch and go there for a while. An hour after we left Pelicans we wound up in her Beachfront condo. I was looking out of the plate glass window at the surf rolling up on Atlantic Beach when I saw her in the glass padding up behind me. She had shed her clothes, her heavy breasts bouncing with each step, and she balanced two snifters filled with a dark liquid.
"I feel kind of overdressed," I said without turning to her.
"That's easy to take care of," she said, setting the snifters down on a nearby coffee table. She turned me and dropped to her knees, unbuckling my belt and pulling my trousers down, followed almost instantly by the Hanes briefs. She fastened her mouth to my rapidly rising dick and gave me a minute but very thorough tongue bath of my genitals.
"That's nice," I said, for lack of anything else to say. It had been a long, long time. What DO you say to a beautiful young woman you've just met who has your dick in her mouth.
"Oh, you don't know," she said, letting me go and turning to pick up one of the snifters. She took a sip, swirled it in her mouth, and sucked me in. Mary might have done something like that -- actually she had and it hadn't been decades ago but, as some wit once said, every blow job is the same and every blowjob is different, and this one was different because of the face and mouth I was sticking it in.
I closed my eyes and opened them yelping a moment later to find she had placed my very rigid extension into one of the snifters that should have been a block of ice from the way it felt. Before I could scream she had sucked it in again. The competing sensations of painful cold and warm suction threatened to blow the top of my (big) head off.
I was squirting into her mouth as I leaned back toward one of her couches and she let me go down, but never lost her lip-lock. She took everything I had and then crouched over me with the expression a mountain lion must have when it gazes down at a ripe hare it's cornered.
"That was nice," she said, letting a little of my byproduct dribble down onto her fingers from the corner of her mouth. "It's always good to get the first one over quick, so we can take our time with the second, third - and fourth. I've got a kitchen stuffed with food we can cook, or snacks, or frozen meals. We never have to get out of the bedroom at all until Monday morning."
I wanted to tell her that, from previous experience, that might be my LAST time until sometime late Saturday, but the look in her eyes was a little frightening. I wondered if Coffee had been really joking.
Actually, I wasn't afraid of getting eaten alive. What scared me a little was the thought that she was used to virile, horny 27 year olds, not a 57 year old - well preserved, but still 57 year old - grandfather. I'd never been embarrassed because I'd never had to perform for a stranger, not in this lifetime. Still, I'd do the best I could, for God and Country, that kind of thing.
I did survive to stagger out of her front door to a waiting limo Monday morning, but I thought I might have seriously damaged my sex organ. It hid against my leg as I escaped. She gave me a last kiss, but I seriously thought she was just being kind. I got the impression that, while she liked me and probably would have given me a score of three out of five, she wasn't really impressed. Like I said - 57 years old.
I was in my office, leaning back in my chair with my eyes closed and trying not to nod off -- she had really given me very little time for sleeping -- when I heard Coffee say, "Sleeping the sleep of the innocent?"
I opened my eyes and looked into her beautiful face. She was grinning.
"I don't know whether to thank you, or consider some sort of lawsuit if my penis never returns to working order."
She just smiled and said, "Brittany said that she was very pleasantly surprised. She's never slept with anyone your age. She said you convinced her to widen her parameters of the age of men she'll consider going to bed with."
"Why do I feel like such a trailblazer?"
She came over to my desk, draped her shapely ass on the side of the desk and sat there bouncing one nylon-clad leg upon the other.
"I know you enjoyed the sex, Hugh. Did you have a good weekend otherwise?"
I thought about it. She obviously knew her friend, if Brittany was a friend.
"Honestly, there were a couple of times she put porno films on her DVD player, and not because we needed the stimulus. You can't fuck 24 hours straight. When I wasn't inside her, we really got bored. There really wasn't - we didn't - there didn't seem to be much to talk about."
I was being charitable. The waits between the times when I recharged, if I wasn't eating her out or using vibrators front and back, were deadly. I'd forgotten how easy it was to talk with Mary, and if we didn't feel like talking, we could sit outside and watch the squirrels or the birds in a companionable silence.
She looked a little embarrassed.
"I feel a little bad about that. Brittany is really an intelligent woman, but outside of stocks and bonds, and fucking, she really doesn't care about that much. Do you want me to look around for someone else? Maybe someone a little....older, more mature?"
"No 80-year-old women, please."
She laughed and said, "I know how to talk after sex, you know?"
I looked at her and, for just a moment, I was tempted, just for a moment!
"That is a fantastic compliment, Coffee. In all honesty, I know you'd be the kind of person I'd enjoy spending time with, in and out of bed, but that is such a bad idea. I think we'd be fine friends, with benefits, but you never know. If either one of us got, oh, attached or our feelings hurt, we'd still have to work together, and Gail wouldn't want to lose either one of us. So, let's just go on being platonic friends and you find me someone who likes talking after sex."
She just shook her head and got up.
"I know you don't believe it right now, Hugh, but you are going to be alright. Finding a good woman isn't going to be a problem for you at all. 'You letting go of Mary' is going to be the problem."
So, that next weekend, I went out with a very attractive 45-year-old. We had drinks, talked about the Iraq War, why the Jaguars sucked so badly and found out that despite a decade's difference in our ages, we had the same taste in movies and we both -- astoundingly -- liked modern country.
We didn't go to bed that date. That happened the next weekend and it was good. She was 5'8 and willowy rather than stacked, meaning she was slender and had great legs without having much on top. However, she was a sweet lady and her breasts, although small, were sensitive. I had a good time.
The next weekend, I was back inside Brittany, pumping and moaning and biting those cantaloupe breasts and being the perfect pig that men at heart are. I had a perfectly nice mature lady I could have been with, but I was fucking a young, very hot and demanding 20-something with whom I couldn't have one minute of intelligent conversation.
This time, I had used my head. On Saturday afternoon my cell phone rang with word of an emergency I just had to come into the bank to handle and so I left Brittany with great regret, but at the same time, although I couldn't show it, great relief. She was great for a night, or a night and a morning, but that way I didn't have to talk to her.
I alternated for a while between Brittany and my grown-up lady, comfortable in my subterfuge, but one always has to pay the piper eventually. One Saturday, after the third or fourth time I'd used some kind of excuse to get away from Brittany, she stopped me as I was slipping my pants on.
She stood there magnificently naked, those heavy breasts lying on her chest like teardrops. They were mottled and red where I'd sucked and bit on them all night and morning.
"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Hugh?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Do you think I'm that stupid? Would it surprise you to know that I have a Masters in Economic Theory from the University of Chicago and I am working on my Doctorate from Florida. I watch C-Span for relaxation and I do the New York Times Crossword with a pen, but you think I'm just a mindless bimbo."
"Fuck you Hugh. Get your clothes on and get out of here."
I knew, but I played it out, because I really didn't want to hurt her.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Emergencies come up all the time. Banking isn't a 9-5 business, no matter what people think, and my job is to be on the job 24-7. It pays me a good living but I have to go when they say come."
"Oh fuck that, you lying old fart."
She slapped me hard across the face and she was a big girl with a nice swing. I staggered back. She had bloodied my lip.
"Funny how your 'emergencies' never happen while you're in the middle of fucking me. When you're sucking on my titties and pumping me hard, you never get those calls. Why is that, Hugh?"
I rubbed the blood off my lip. The funny thing was, I liked her more now than I ever had when I was balls-deep in her steaming pussy and sucking on those gorgeous tits.
"I guess I'm transparent, right? I'm sorry, Brittany. All men are pigs. You deserve more than an old fart coming around because fucking you is a fantastic experience, but I -- we - we just don't have enough in common. All we have in common is that I love that body of yours and what you do with it in bed, and you-"
"And I really have enjoyed what you do in bed, Hugh. It's not just the mechanics, you're pretty good, but you really work to make me have a good time in bed. You'd be amazed how few times that happens when I go out with guys my age."
I reached out and gave her a kiss - she let me!
"Give them time, Brittany. Sometimes guys grow up. You have time. Guys are always going to be coming after you."
"Just not you."
I looked over her amazing body and had to shake my head.
"No baby, I'm just too old for you."
She just shook her head, kissed me back and said, "Go away old man and think about me when you're on top of some 50-year-old that you have more in common with," but she smiled when she said it.
"Coffee was right, you have a definite mean streak in you."
"Says the man who was fucking me and then faking emergencies to get out of having to talk with me between fucks."
What could I say, she was right, but she was smiling when I walked out of her condo.
So, I went back to my mature lady, we had decent weekends and the sex wasn't bad.
There came a Saturday night about 11 p.m. We had been out to Benny's, just off the Riverwalk, the best steak place in town by most people's estimation - you wouldn't get an argument from me - and we had walked down the Riverwalk, staring out into the water. We gazed at the plaque commemorating the spot where two Jacksonville Sheriff's Officers had fallen during the Massacre at the Courthouse and talked about that terrible day when so many had died.
Then we headed back to my place. I spread her legs, ate her, fucked her and, if it was nothing like with Brittany, it wasn't bad. It wasn't that good but not that bad.
We lay together in bed. The television and lights were off, but there was a faint light from the streetlights not too far down the street and an overhead full moon coming through a curtained window. Her flesh was painted by the faint light, giving it a look of gleaming marble. I reached out to touch the flesh of her shoulder and ran fingers down her arm.
I didn't even know it was coming until I burst out in sobs. For moments I didn't know what I was crying for. She nestled my head against her small breasts while I wept because I knew who and what I was crying for.
Later that night she flipped the overhead light on and dressed.
"I'm sorry," I told her. "I don't know where that came from," I lied.
She sat beside me and kissed me on the cheek.
"It's been fun, really fun. You're a nice man, but there are too many ghosts around here for me to be comfortable. Don't call me again Hugh. I hope - I hope someday you'll be able to start living again."
I had her flip the lights off as she left. After she'd gone I lay in the wash of moonlight. It had been nearly six months since Mary had walked out of my life, and neither hot sexy young women nor kindly older women had been enough to drive her out of my mind and heart.
I had tried moving on, the way she had, yet I hurt as bad as the moment she had told me the truth, when something inside me had died. Why the hell couldn't I do what she had done?
CHAPTERS FIVE AND SIX COMING