Valerie Ch. 1

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.

Her eyes twinkled just a bit and she smiled, crinkling up her nose, "What sort of naughty, nasty fantasies might those be, Edward?" Her tone was purely joking; but she had now opened the door to anything I might wish to take the chance to say.

"Oh, Valerie, you know; the fantasies of an old man who has too long been denied what he truly desires in this life. The dreams of someone who has felt that a special talent of his has gone unnoticed and unshared as often as it could have been." And I looked directly into her eyes.

There was a momentary pause, as if to question herself as to whether she should continue the conversation or excuse herself; but she continued, very slowly, "I didn't know you had a special talent that you had not been able to share, Edward. I was always impressed with how much of yourself you actually gave away. Whatever might you be wanting to share with anyone now that you are retired?"

"My dear Valerie, I simply want to take advantage of the few years I have left, to share what I have learned over the years with a woman who might actually be able to understand and appreciate the sharing," I murmured to her.

"Is this a line you throw at all unsuspecting women you meet in lounges, Edward? Or have you simply singled me out because you've resented my influence over the years?"

"Valerie, my dear woman," I laughed, "this is not a line for anyone except for you at the present time. I have never resented your influence. I have always respected the methods you employed to get what you wanted. And now, I am simply using my own personal methods to get what I want at this point in life."

"And what is it that you want, Edward?" she breathed.

"If you'd like to have dinner tomorrow evening, we could discuss it," I put to her, quite bluntly.

This time she did not laugh. She was totally uncertain as to how to react. So, I continued with a sort monologue about the dissatisfaction of always having to "…do the right thing…" publicly and socially, as I had been required to do as a high-profile principal. She was familiar with that situation, having been there herself for many years. She was also familiar with my wife, having attended myriad school-connected social events in her position and a short sketch of my marital relationship was all that was necessary.

"Why me, Edward? Why pick me and why this particular evening?" she queried.

Again, I reiterated my dinner invitation and with only a few seconds of hesitation, but with apparent discomfort and indecision, she agreed to meet me outside of town at a very small log-cabin-type restaurant we both knew of.

I will not bore the reader with the emotional stress I dealt with over the next 24 hours, but suffice it to say that I often felt like a 15-year-old heading for the drive-in movies. (Oh, that does date me, doesn't it?) It was not difficult to find an excuse to go out for dinner the following evening as my wife had announced that very day that she would be eating with her church 'circle' that evening in preparation for her usual Wednesday evening prayer group. When I appeared at home, I simply told her I had met the parents of a former student who wanted to treat me to dinner while the student was home for the holidays. This was often the case and she didn't bat an eyelash at this small deception.

Calling the restaurant and making a reservation was simple enough. Deciding what to wear was much more difficult. (Do I sound like a squiggly teenager?) But soon enough, the time came for me to show up and advance my steps toward a goal. The hostess provided me with a corner table outside of the view of the main dining room (which, in itself, only held six tables), and which was as private as one could wish for.

Valerie arrived approximately fifteen minutes after our agreed meeting time (leaving me slightly damp in the palms for fear that I had made a fool of myself) and apologized by saying that she had been sitting outside for ten minutes trying to decide if she was up to this meeting. I reassured her that dinner was exactly that - dinner; and that she should not read anything else into this evening's menu. She laughed at the reference to a menu and we took a few minutes to order drinks and dinner. Over the meal, the talk was really old history….what we had done for the district while we served, what the district was like now, where we saw it going in the future, etc., just like old colleagues would talk under any circumstances.

Finally, I broke the ice by asking if she really wanted an answer to her question of the previous day and she stared at me with those hugely dark eyes and said yes, she did.

"Very simple, Valerie. First, why you? I have had more than a few snakes of lust for you squirming around in my stomach for the past fifteen years of our friendship. Didn't you ever notice my reactions when you dressed a particular way or spoke to me directly? Second, why now? Because I know that your children are both away at school and you are 'holding down the fort' at home with Charles. I also know that he still travels much more than you would like him to. You complained to my wife several times about that fact when we were together and I noted it myself because you repeatedly told her how "lucky" she was to have me home every night. Do you remember how I chimed in on one of those occasions with the complaint that I was not home every night; that the Board of School Directors had made it almost impossible for a principal to spend any time with his own biological family because they demanded my presence at any and every event that was sponsored by my school family?"

"So, I took the chance to say something to you that would either have you thinking I am totally out of bounds or might pique your interest. Apparently the latter is closer to the truth, because he we are, 20 miles from home, sharing a glass of friendship. The opportunity is there for us to become better acquainted, or to share something of which I spoke to you about last evening. It is all a matter of you saying that you are interested in at least discussing the possibilities, that's all."

She actually didn't say much at all for a long period of time. We finished dinner and another glass of wine, turned down dessert, and waited for coffee to be delivered to our table. Finally, she looked at me and asked me a rather startling question: "Ed, what's in it for me? It is pretty obvious that you'll benefit from any relationship - and I assume you are hinting at a physical one - but I am not certain what I am going to get out of it. I have a lot to lose, you know."

I reached across the table and took her hand, turned it palm up and pressed my thumb into it lightly, circling it around a bit and told her, "Valerie, if I cannot make you forget that question in the first hour we are together, then the entire relationship is built on subterfuge and I was never much for that, was I? She smiled, because she remembered the situation I was referring to - one in which she and I saw eye-to-eye for once - one which involved not telling the student public the absolute truth about something that had happened in our community. She responded that, yes, she remembered and that she was just confused, that's all.

I told her I was in no hurry, that we could meet and discuss this further if she wished. We did. We met twice more for dinner in the next few weeks and on the third occasion decided that an evening alone together outside of the view of anyone might allow her to better decide exactly how far she wished to go with this "adventure" as she called it.

That first evening together - at a tiny motel between our town and the bigger city to the west - was one in which both she and I were exceptionally surprised. More about the surprises and how we resolved our acceptance of them in another chapter.