How That Douchebag Got That Bitch

She had assumed, in her lawyers training, that he did not have the nicest of cars, as young as he was. That would explain the cold warning. She had been wrong. It was in pristine condition, even if it was a four-door Rambler.

Emanuel really was a gentleman; he had brought two lone stems of out of season Alstroemeria, as if he had known her favorite flower and the colors to match her lipstick, coat, or shoes.

He looked good, perfect to her, in slightly loose cut khaki's and a distinct, not leather, black cloth jacket. His shoes were leather though, cut in a relaxed moccasin style in a light brown tone. He matched, to her surprise, for as young and single as he was.

His hair was in a high pony tail, with his long bangs tucked behind his ears. Madeline, through the glass and looking, watched the colors of it move in the light of her porch. He walked up the few wooden steps, right up to her through the glass, smiled, and pressed the doorbell.

Emanuel really was a gentleman - and funny to her as well.

"Good evening, Madeline," he crooned to her when she opened the door, "I brought these for you." Casually, and with a slight bow, he handed her the flowers with a twirl of his wrist.

"Thank you..." He was good; she was speechless.

"You look beautiful this evening. May I escort you to dinner? Or would you like me to come in?" He had not stopped grinning. Madeline could not tell if he was generally this nice, or smiling at his own over-the-top actions. She smiled at the ham; her husband had been that way.

"Oh, Manny... stop," she said, waving a hand at him for her near flustered and smelling the flowers. "Let's just go, good lookin'... I'm starving."

"Well, then allow me," Emanuel held out an arm for her own, and held hers the entire stroll while it was tucked under his; all the way until he opened the car door for his date.

Madeline brought the flowers.

***

"Dos Tequilas y dos cervezas, por favor, Roberto," he said as he held up two fingers to the waiter dropping menus on the table next to her gift of vegetation. Emanuel was not of Spanish or Latin descent, but his accent would have made the average English speaking person think twice. The waiter nodded, drooled over Madeline in her dark red dress, and went to fetch their drinks.

"You speak Spanish? My-my, aren't you just the mystery..." Madeline noticed he waited to pick up his menu until she had grabbed her own. She had thought him a plain working man; she was confused now that he sat in his button down white shirt, cuffs undone, and a black t-shirt underneath. He was lounging back in his seat, leg out, to past her side of the table. Emanuel just sort of hunkered down and used the chair for all it was worth.

"Hablo poquito, uh, wait, sorry. Hablo un poco, pero no mucho. Mis amigo enseñado me mucho." He said to her smiling and laughing once or twice at her confusion to the foreign language. "Just a little bit, but not a lot. Picked it up from the fellow who works for me. His parents own this restaurant." Emanuel kicked a thumb in no particular direction.

"Oh, ok, that answers the question 'How did you find out about this place?' then." Madeline was enjoying his aire, having fun; he was forcing himself to stare at her eyes and face, forcefully ignoring the stacked cleavage and bare shoulder visible from the short, strapped dress. She had gone all out, a decision made after an hour long and unsatisfying session with her plastic love.

"What exactly is it you do, Manny? Like construction, right?"

"Well, yeah, not remodeling or anything like that, industrial repair, mostly. I own my own company. Basically permit and confined spaces work, a nice way of saying 'Stupid, dangerous, and well paying job.' " He used quotation finger marks.

"Wow, that is actually interesting," she really thought it was. "How does a young man like yourself end up owning a business like that?" Madeline noticed Emanuel paused until the waiter had finished setting down their drinks before continuing to answer.

"Gracias, Roberto... By never missing an opportunity, same reason I asked you out. My boss was retiring, and he was selling the business, so rather than worry if I would have a job, I went to the bank and got a loan. That was.. uh..." he was counting on the table, "five, yeah... Five years ago." He took a sip of his shot of Tequila, and a sip of his beer, then continued. "So I noticed your last name on your card, are you a partner in that firm or something?"

"I am, actually." Madeline was surprised he reasoned it out, she thought he would simply be young and dumb and ready to run. "I was partnered a year before my divorce, about five or so years ago, as well. I have no idea what to order, this all looks so great..." Madeline was trying to avert the attention from the word she had just dropped, unintentionally and totally against her lawyer's training.

"You like spicy right? Not crazy spicy, but tasty?"

Madeline nodded 'yes' to him, with an "um-hm" thrown in.

"Right, I have this, trust me, ok?" Emanuel waited for her answer.

"Ok..." Madeline had never let a man order for her, but since she had already been surprised this evening, she went along.

His whistle was loud enough to temporarily drown out the single Mariachi guitar player on the chair in the corner of the room. Still locked with Madeline's eyes, Emanuel moved his head to the side with his shoulders in a lean, speaking at the exact moment the waiter, whom he could not see, turned their way.

"Dos especiales, por favor," he was holding up two fingers again, meant for the nodding waiter still out of his vision. Madeline could only be impressed at how he owned his nearby surroundings. He took another sip of his Tequila, in unison with her, followed by a sip of his beer. He said nothing else, he was waiting, and it was forcing Madeline to speak, against her lawyer's training.

"Ok, cshit... look. Aren't you going to ask me how old I am, or about my divorce, or if I have kids? You're acting like this is just a normal date... I..." She was confused, and turning slightly red to match the dress. He let out a 'mmm' sound under his breath as the skin of her breast heated and changed color.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" Emanuel was smiling at her. Somehow, he was absorbing her presence as he used the returning question of a lawyer's trick. He was good, sharp enough, and fast enough to take her aback. "I dn'think there is any sense in asking those questions, the answers wouldn't matter regardless, I would still want to be here, with you, right now. I'll find out eventually, as I do intend to ask you out again, Miss Madeline Morrison. You are too beautiful a chance to pass up." It was left at that on his summation.

Emanuel really was a gentleman, and the conversations and spicy food continued casually from that point on, despite her lawyer's training.

***

By the time the waiter had dropped the check on the table, and said "Gracias, Señor Aguas," Emanuel had already dropped a single bill on top of the paper. He was not bragging, or showing off, just paying quickly so the waiter could finish other things. The tip left was hefty, as always.

"De nada, y gracias, Roberto, todos fue maravilloso, hablas 'hola' a tu padre para mi. Sí...?" Emanuel's Spanish was ill, but it worked for the waiter, he understood SSL.

"Yalotienes, Manny. Adios y... bien noche." The waiter left after another drool at the Tequila warmed cleavage, but it was staring at Emanuel.

"Well aren't you just a smooth one," Madeline was quite impressed with the boy she had snagged for the evening. He was his own person here as well as the real world; his parents being a lawyer and a judge, yet he chose to pursue his own career instead of milking their connections. This was a young man.

"Thanks, I try. Sometimes I backfire, but I'm glad you are impressed."

"Oh, I am," rhythm was suddenly infecting her, perhaps as much as the two beers and two Tequilas she had imbibed to his singles. A second guitarist had begun to play. "I did always love the Latin music, always makes me want to dance." She wasn't asking, she was stating, and watching the players.

"I'll give it a shot. I'm not much of a dancer, but I'll try for you."

The dance floor was small and quaint, but fit the atmosphere of the small building well. There was an older retired Spanish couple already at it, and there were only a few other tables full this evening for dinner, as it was still early for most lovers.

Before Madeline could answer, Emanuel was already standing, holding out a hand to her.

"Such a gentleman," she said, taking his hand and letting herself be led to the dance floor. He nodded to the musicians as the two moved together. They slowed the tune, sending the dancers into embrace.

The older woman, dancing with her husband, smiled at the pair, both younger in her eyes, and clearly going to be in love. The older man, dancing with his wife, could barely keep his eyes from Madeline's form, and legs, or the expanse of back visible through the small dress.

Madeline and Emanuel danced for a few songs, softly carrying on various conversations at various times, more often than not watching the eyes of their partner. Occasionally Manuel would spin her, occasionally Madeline with twirl or move her hips in seduction.

They danced well - better than he had implied - well enough to cause other couples to hold hands at their tables, purely for the sight of compatibility. Some of the married women thought to cut in, or thought of their husbands with long hair, but mostly they were jealous of the woman in the red dress and her dancing partner - the kid who looked young enough to be her son.

"You know they are watching us," Madeline whispered to Emanuel.

"Who is?" He had forgotten they were not alone in the room. Her self invaded all of his senses beyond any other comprehension. He was more than hard, and more than pressing into her.

"...everybody here..." She was trailing off, feeling his lust pressing through her dress, moistening her own.

"Let them, they should be jealous of a woman like you. I would be jealous of anyone with you. Heck, I'm still jealous at the chair you were sitting on." Emanuel was whispering into her ear, for Madeline alone, no one else could have heard it, even if they were close.

The laugh that rang out from her thrown back head brightened the room at all directions.

"Why don't we take this back to my place, and continue this over a few drinks...? It will be less embarrassing for you and what you have pressing into me." Emanuel was turning her on, her voice suddenly a husky whisper, and he was built better than she had assumed, his cover-alls did not do him justice, nor did her imagination. Dancing, and the feels she had copped, had only proven her more incorrect. Madeline had decided to sleep with him if she could, everything was ready for it, just in case.

It was time, regardless of her lawyer's training or the three date rule. Madeline's body was in charge now.

"Ladies first, but you have to promise to see me for dinner again," he said in a normal voice, holding out his hand to lead the way to the coat-check.

"Just dinner, handsome?" Madeline was smiling as she almost ran ahead of him, to the safety of her favorite warm and fuzzy coat. She could touch herself, out of view, once she had it on.

A few of the women turned and threw angry stares at their eating husbands as the picturesque couple left arm-in-arm.

***

"This is a great looking house you have," Emanuel was speaking as he hung his coat on the hook by the door, and while Madeline hung hers in the closet. They had bolted to the house from his car; it had gotten colder, cold enough that they were still sniffling even though they were inside.

"Thanks, you really like it? I had it re-decorated after my husband left. He never liked these styles to begin with, but they're my favorite."

"I really do... he was tasteless." Emanuel was looking at as much as he could, all at once, and he spoke with no malice. The woodwork throughout was unfinished wood, with retro furniture and new, trendy colors on the wall. It had a cumulative effect, making it look perfect.

"Oh, and you have a fireplace, very nice. Mind if I start it up?" Emanuel had made his way to the sunken living room at the back of the house.

"Go for it, I was planning to anyway. Would you like something to drink?" Madeline locked the front door, watching him turn his head at the click, and made her way towards the dining room bar.

"What do you have?"

"Everything, really..."

"That you do, that you do... but I'll just take a Brandy, for now."

"Brandy, huh? Should I be jealous of her?" Madeline made the joke as she grabbed the bottle and glasses, knowing full well what he was asking; the mood of her pace and of her speech creating a court room fantasy role-play. She poured the same, and an equal amount, for herself in the second glass -- only a few fingers.

"You should not be jealous of anything, with a mind like yours, and a body like that," Emanuel was pointing at her as he took the glass, the want in his eyes unrestrained.

"You sure know how to make an old lady feel special. Have you had a lot of practice, you know, wining and dining the masses?" It was the only question Madeline had not asked of him. Good lawyers save the pertinent for last. She made her way to the couch, turning on the stereo with the remote from the end-table, and began to watch him start two fires.

"Ha, the masses... You're the first date I've had in.. hmm, like two years. Truthfully, I'm quite pleased we get along so well. I don't think I could have taken being rejected by you." Both fires had been kindled; they were burning on their own now. "Plus, you're not old..."

"I'm glad you think so. I didn't think it would work so well, not with our age difference, not to mention my loss of social skills..." Madeline was not concentrating on the conversation anymore. She only watched his stretched khakis over his ass while he started the fires. She only watched it more when he stood to his full height, and place the guard over the fireplace.

Emanuel caught her open mouth as he turned to join her on the couch. More than her mouth, he was ogling her fit legs and tight breasts, both equally wrapped in her fitting dress.

"Age difference? I think that dress has more to do with it than anything, or you constantly staring at my butt. You look fantastic, you have since the first time I saw you. Not to mention you've been nothing but sweet and kind. Your husband was a fool." He sat upon the couch, touching her and sipping his drink in time with Madeline as he finished speaking.

Madeline set her drink upon the table. Tears were welling, she had forgotten company, and she had forgotten romance. Emanuel played the repairman perfectly, also setting his drink upon the table. They both knew what was coming, and they didn't fight it, despite her lawyer's training.

Just as the heat of one fire touched her exposed skin, Madeline leaned into Emanuel for a long and lengthy tongue kiss. She pushed him towards the arm of the couch, hand on his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her back.

Slowly he slid a hand to one of her taut cheeks. When he moved the other to echo, and squeezed with the palms. Madeline broke the kiss and moaned, flooding her panties with fluids.

"I want you to... to make love to me, here, tonight, right in front of the fire... now." She had the look of a woman possessed as she spoke, nothing but sex in her eyes. Madeline never, ever, spoke this way; his kiss was her best.

Emanuel watched her for a long moment before he placed one hand on the back of her head, pulling her into a return of the kiss. When their lips met, the hand on her head moved and slowly unbound the zipper of her hugged fabric, unclasping the bra beneath shortly after. Her generous breasts began to spill over the front of her dress as they were no longer held back. They squished and plumped between the two bodies, the writhing only setting the wonders more free and towards release.

Emanuel never slid her dress off; he simply palmed the rise over the surface of the material, squeezing lightly in time with the hand on her bum.

The kiss lasted many minutes before Madeline climaxed, forcefully breaking the unison and sitting up, grinding her shivering self into his lap. Her eyes were closed, and she was moaning while pulling in her breath, bottom lip embraced between her teeth.

Plastic was no substitute for flesh; plastic held no life.

Emanuel spoke as she opened her eyes. "Let's go over to the rug, I want to see your beauty. I want to taste more of you."

Madeline grinned, mimicking the Cheshire, and slammed down the contents of her Brandy glass while on his lap. Just as quickly, she made her way to stand in front of the fire, kicking her shoes off at the couch. She began a striptease with flames as a frame, possessed by three heats. Emanuel grabbed his drink, similarly slamming it, but purely at the site before him. He hoped he was ready for what she was offering.

He was surely not when the dress fell from her shoulders and to the floor, her brassiere following after. Her chest barely sagged, and he could imagine what the pair looked like twenty years ago. They sagged purely from weight, as the damages of age were barely noticeable compared to others he had seen on younger women. If anything, the sag made them look glorious.

His stare spurned Madeline on as she slid her hands up her tight sides, along her snug belly, and to her massive breasts, twisting her large, long, and proud pink nipples on arrival. "Do you like them?"

"They can't be real..." Emanuel said under his breath, stunned and hard to mirror steel.

She had sworn at her ex-husband for the gym, now she wordlessly thanked him for the parting gift.

Madeline could only laugh at the young man, he had a look on his face similar to her husbands the first time he had seen her nudity in her youth. "Oh they are little boy..." she said huskily as one of her hands slid down to touch herself over the high cut black panties.

"Little boy, eh?" Emanuel was standing now, taking his shirt off in the same motion as he kicked off his shoes. Madeline ate her words as she pressed one finger, with fabric, into the folds of her wetness. He was cut from stone, angles and edges she had never seen covered his perfect male body. He had a large tattoo in the center of his chest; it read "FRONT" in square black block lettering.

"Oh, I am sorry... You are all man, aren't you?" Her words were oozing.

"...and I don't even work out.. genetics.. go figure?" Emanuel answered her question, with a question yet again, while palming her ass and a breast as they moved into a standing kiss before at least one kind of flame.

Her hands began to claw at his back and belt as he slowly lowered her to the plush floor, on the carpet in shadow of the stone base of the fireplace. Madeline knew he was packing, and it was all she could think about, that is, until she felt her panties sliding down her legs.

By the time she knew what was happening, he was alternately flicking her nipples with his tongue, or sucking in as much breast flesh as he could. He had a finger in her folds by the time her panties caught on one of her ankles. They would stay there for the duration.

One of his hanging bangs had come loose from his ear, and it was tickling behind his kisses as he trailed to her mound. He was going to lick her, something her husband had never done in all the years of their marriage, and something she only ever fantasized about.

It was better than fantasy, and Emanuel was a professional at it. She was in orgasm for the second time before she knew what was happening. He worked a finger in time with his lips, and when he went to town on her clit, she came steadily until he finished drinking her fluids a few minutes later.