The Best Erotic Stories.

Looking For Love
in All the Wrong Places

by Mr. Mallard

It is a cold and blustery morning in early March as you sit at your kitchen table reading the help wanted ads in the local week end paper. Wrapped in your warmest pajamas, slippers and bathrobe you are still chilled to the bone. The furnace is out again. Thank God the girls are away for the weekend, one at an all weekend sleep over and the other on a school-debating trip. At least they are warm.

Another bill to face, but it can't be avoided. The Service Company has been called and they assure you that, while the regular staff is off for the weekend, they have a part time person on call that they will dispatch as soon as they can reach him. As you look out the kitchen window at the frozen landscape you marvel at how closely it matches your feelings deep in your soul. Barren, lonely and desolate just about covers it.

Sitting back down at the kitchen table and idly reaching for another Marlboro, you begin to again look through the columns of ads for semi skilled and unskilled workers for sometime that could help augment your income and make ends meet. In many ways you are lucky, two good kids, (about the only good thing that bastard left you) a home, a car, and a job that at least let's you keep close to even. A few extra dollars each month would help though, even if it were just to pay your internet service provider for the cost of connection to your only real world in cyber space.

As you muse, you hear the doorbell of the service entrance off the kitchen. Padding to the door, you find the service technician patiently waiting there with his billed hat in one hand and his toolbox in the other. His clean pressed twill uniform had his company's name neatly embroidered over the left-hand pocket and his name stitched under it "Donald."

* * * * *

"Is this the residence of a Ms. Denise Maori," he politely asks.

You nod and stand aside so that he can step in out of the cold.

As you close the door behind him you hear him say, "I understand that you are having some kind of problem with your central heating unit."

"Yes," you respond, "but I have no idea what the problem is. All I know is that I am frozen."

He reaches down to his feet and takes off his oily boots and stands them neatly by the door in the boot tray and says:

"Well then, Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

You take him through the kitchen and down the stairs to where the unit is located.

He puts his toolbox on the floor and neatly lays out what he needs and goes to work. You stand in the background and silently fret wondering how much this is going to cost and how the service company is going to react, in light of the fact that you are already 1 month behind in your account.

After a few minutes you here him say:

"Ah! Here is the problem, the rheostat is bad."

"How much do they cost?" you blurt out without thinking, the anxiety evident in your voice.

"About $380.00 plus tax and installation he responds but before we do that let's see what I can do"?

"I just happen to have a broken one in my tool box and I have yours which is not functioning...

* * * * *

You watch as his hands fly. Both units are disassembled in a matter of minutes, parts are interchanged, put back together, and a gizmo, Is stuck back in the furnace. He presses a button and the furnace starts to hum smoothly.

You have never seem anything like that before, wait, yes you did, once you were lonely and bored one night and you were flipping through the channels on the cable and you caught a demonstration of soldiers disassembling and assembling their guns blindfolded, in a contest of speed. That is the only comparison you can make.

"Good as new he says" as he puts the furnace back together and his tools back in the box.

You lead him back up the stairs to the kitchen and go to the counter to get your purse and checkbook.

"How much do I owe you?" you ask with a heavy heart.

"No Charge" he responds.

You are dumbfounded and he immediately sees it in your face.

"Really, no charge. The service call is covered under you basic policy and I was able to make one good part out of two broken parts, I can't charge you for that. Let's call it my own little re-cycling program."

As he begins to put his boots back on at the door you, in a rush of gratitude, blurt out "I don't suppose you would like a cup of coffee, would you".

He turns to look at you and you sense that he is going to refuse but you blunder on, "Really, it is no problem I'm just going to make my self another cup of instant."

He agrees saying "that is indeed very kind of you I left home to do this service call with out eating my breakfast and a cup of coffee would be very nice."

As you prepare the coffee he sits at the table letting his eyes wander the room taking everything in.

When you place it in front of him in a chipped mug he is grateful and cradles it in both hands. You notice that they are slim, soft and very, very, clean. The nails are manicured and have been buffed. They are not the hands of a burner technician, they are of the hands of, you simply don't know.


"A little artificial sweetener if you have it, just this way if you don't."


"It's alright."

For the first time you examine this technician in front of you at the table. He is tall, close to 6 feet, soft gray brush cut hair, gold spectacles, fairly slim build, definitely not skinny, but no extra fat. A wedding ring and an expensive Seiko Gold watch.

As you sit and casually chat you are amazed at his command of the English language and his knowledge of any and all things. You talk of the weather, sports, local, regional and national. The local school system. The current job market when he notices to where the paper is opened. You even talk about state politics of which he seems to have a very strong grasp. You talk of the upcoming election campaign and the chance that the current governor, who has raised many contentious issues, can get reelected. Two hours pass and neither of you has even noticed a minute of it. He has not moved a muscle sitting there with his hands folded, his knees crossed, and looking into your face talking to you.

Finally he looks at the clock on the wall and says: "This has been very pleasant but I have an important 3 P.M. commitment that I must keep."

* * * * *

You blush and apologize for delaying him and escort him once again to the door, and as he puts on his boots, he looks up and says:

"I couldn't help but notice the fridge, I see that you have children."

"Yes, two girls who are away for the week end."

"You're not wearing a wedding ring?"

"No, I am a divorced woman, just trying to make it on my own."

"ah, I know this will seem out of place but I have enjoyed our conversation and I think you have too, I was wondering, would you consider joining me on an excursion I have planned this afternoon"

You stutter and stammer and immediately he senses that he has made a misstep.

"I am sorry, I really shouldn't have asked, it was very forward of me."

Jesus Christ, your mind screams at you, where did this guy come from. No man today talks like that. 'Very forward, Good God'. The standard retort to-day is, to bad baby don't know what your missing, more fish in the sea, see ya."

In a flash of daring that you didn't know you had you blurt:

"I would love to."

"What time should I be ready and what should I wear."

"Two O'clock would be fine and warm casual clothes would be most appropriate."

As he proceeds to his service truck all you can think is "most appropriate, Jesus, who talks like that."

* * * * *

As you close the door the misgivings and doubt begin to set in. You realize that all you know is his first name.

In a brief burst of insight you call the Service Company and ask them if the service man had been dispatched and, when they confirm it, you ask for a brief description. They give it and there is no doubt that it is the same man who just left the house. By this time the company is concerned and adds that he is their most reliable casual worker and they are sure that you will be more than satisfied with him when he arrives.

Well, you think, in for a penny in for a pound, I don't know his last name so I can't even call him to cancel.

As it is already after twelve you tidy the house, have a shower, do your hair and nails and dress. Hiking boots, warm socks, heavy jeans, light blouse and heavy winter sweater go on and you lay out your Columbia jacket and a matching tam and scarf.

It is the best you can do given the circumstances.

At precisely two P.M. the doorbell rings and you answer.

There stands Donald or, at least, it should be Donald.

The gentleman is immaculately groomed. Like you, hiking boots, expensive corduroy trousers, a soft green winter sweater over a white turtleneck, a Columbia jacket that matches the sweater and pants, an a jaunty LL. Bean gentleman's walking hat.

No Service uniform is evident.

You smile and turn and lock the door and he gently escorts you down the walk and assists you into the passenger side of an older model expensive luxury sedan.

As he proceeds to get in you notice that, while old, it is immaculate and in excellent repair.

* * * * *

He starts the car and carefully proceeds down the street and on to the interstate.

The stereo is softly playing classical music and, while your taste runs more to Reba McIntire, there is sometime serene, and settling about it that adds to the mood of well being and contentment that you are beginning to feel.

The conversation is pointless and rambles about this and that and nothing.

Finally, he says,

"I enjoy following the sports teams at Ohio State and the Hockey team is playing at 3 P.M. It is a critical game if they want to advance in the NCAA championships. That is where we are going."

You have never gone to a hockey game in your life, but somehow that seems like a particularly appropriate think to be doing with this man this afternoon.

As he pulls into the sports complex he drives to the reserve parking area and the young student police instantly lifts the barrier and he passes through with a friendly wave to the boy who smiles back. He drives to the further restricted parking by the door of the complex and another student police, spotting him, removes another barrier from the last remaining parking spot by the door.

As he gets out and comes around to get you he opens the door and you catch part of a conversation.

"...Worried that you were not going to make it to-day. Glad you did professor."

"Thanks Jimmy, I was pleasantly, if unavoidably, delayed."

"How's the studies going?"

"About as good as can be expected, SOS" is the response.

As you get out of the car you sense that the boy looks at you a little strangely but immediately dismiss it.

You enter the rink and are immediately escorted through the turnstiles and are surrounded by thousands and thousands of screaming students.

Donald knows everybody. They smile and grin at him, a kind look here, a quick word there, as you proceed slowly to the seating area behind the home team bench.

As you move through the crowds they seem to magically part, there is not jostling, it is not planned, it is just as if at the very last nano second, the next person senses he is there and moves ever so slightly. As you reach the seating section that he seems to be heading for A stunningly beautiful co-ed leaps to her feet and shouts to him:

"Over here Doctor, we have saved your seat."

As you proceed down the isle to the third row behind the boards you perceive the consternation of the co-ed. Indeed they have saved his seat, One seat, but ever so quietly you see her equally attractive companion, quickly get up and leave by the other end of the row and now magically there are two seats where before there was only one in this screaming mass of fans.

As you take your seat Donald casually says to the co-ed, "Jan this is friend Denise," she is my guest this afternoon. She smiles warmly at you but you sense that she is immediately on her guard assessing you, wondering, and sniffing.

She is the epitome of politeness but the fangs are not far from the surface, if you are a threat, but to what, you wonder.

* * * * *

The game begins and the arena turns into a screaming mass of 20,000 drunken college students enjoying a brutal sport. Donald screams and yells with the best of them. Soon you are drawn into the frenzy and are enjoying it as much as him, but he is just as quick to cheer for a good play from the opposing team as he is for the home team even thought it is evident that all know where his true loyalties lay.

At the end of the first period the bedlam dies down and he turns to ask you if you are enjoying yourself. You simply smile, as conversation is difficult in the noise. You have never experienced anything like this. You never had the opportunity to go to University, God, what an experience you must have missed.

As you come out of this momentary revere another pretty co-ed hands Donald a simple tray with a banana, half a tuna fish sandwich, a cup of black coffee with sweeter on the side and simply says here is you snack.

"Bon Appetite."

She looks at you and says, "could I bring you something?"

For the first time you realize that in your busy day with the furnace, cleaning the house, and getting ready that you have not eaten breakfast or lunch, You are famished.

You reach down for your purse but gently feel Donald's hand lightly on the back of your wrist. It is so subtly done that you know nobody noticed but the message was conveyed to you.

"A hamburger and a beer would be lovely."

Donald eats his snack and magically the tray disappears into the hands of another co-ed that seems to be constantly standing in the background sensing his every need.

* * * * *

As your eyes wander around the arena taking it all in, you are drawn back to reality by another co-ed who hands you a hamburger on a paper plate with some potato chips, a napkin and a cold mug of beer, not a plastic cup.

As you bite into the burger you realize that it is freshly made and put together by hand. This didn't come from any steam table. Someone, for some reason, went to some trouble. Again your instincts are aroused.

Donald is known and respected and even loved here, but you, you are an intruder. They weren't expecting you and they don't know what to think but you are obviously his guest so they are giving you the benefit of the doubt.

The game ends with the home team winning by one goal scored in the last minute of the game. The atmosphere is indescribable. You can't help but get caught up in the moment. Nothing is as you have ever experienced in your life.

It is half an hour before you can even speak to each other. As you slowly begin to make you way to the exit there are more smiles and greeting for Donald and inquisitive stares for you, on Donald's arm. Somehow, they don't feel threatening.

As you approach the car you mouth falls open. Approaching Donald is the Governor of the state and his entourage of eager assistants. The governor says: " nice to see you Donald, I'm looking forward to reading your report when it is finished." Looking at you he says "nice to see you young lady." He then quickly moves off to do more glad-handing.

Donald opens the door and helps you in and assists you to fasten the seat belt saying "be careful my dear, you know how it sticks".

He goes around the car and gets in and proceeds to make his way out of the parking lot and onto the interstate, back the way you came.

He is quiet and withdrawn.

Finally, he says "I am sorry if I appeared rude to you back there and didn't introduce you to the governor, who is, by the way, an alumnus of the university. I have always believed that if you have nothing kind to say it is best to say nothing at all. You life would not be enriched by having made his acquaintance."

Donald's mood then brightens.

"Don't suppose I could invite you to be my guest at supper. I know a rather pleasant place on the way that serves delicious B.B.Q. "

"Why not" you respond totally lost in the strange experiences that you have enjoyed today. After all how much more bizarre could my day get, you think.

Donald puts into the parking lot of a huge roadside joint.

As you enter the foyer it is packed with students and alumni coming from the game. As you approach the reservations desk you realize that there is more of a chance of a snowball freezing in hell than there is of you getting fed in this dining room to-night.

Donald is oblivious. As the desk man raises his head to snarl an obscenity to Donald about the foolish request that he is about to make, but his face breaks into an infectious grin, and says,

"What a unexpected but pleasant surprise to see you Doctor...and your companion."

The deskman is flustered by your presence. A moron could see that. Your are not suppose to be there. Period. Any moron could figure that out.

"Pat will be thrilled to see you" he continues,

* * * * *

Just as he says this the biggest man you have ever seem in your life comes into view. He grabs Donald and hugs him and twirls him in the air. This man is a monster. At least 6 foot 10 inches, 340 pounds and arms and legs like tree trunks. He turns to you and you see suspicion fleet through his eyes momentarily before he says "nice to see you young lady." He takes you hand gently in his to shake it. It feels like you have just shaken hands with King Kong.

"How about supper, professor"?

"Lovely Pat, if it is no problem".

Pat leads the two of you across the room to a table for eight, which is marked reserved. The sign disappears and the 6 extra place settings are quickly removed.

Quickly a heaping plate of ribs is placed before you accompanied by a frosty mug of cold beer. It is not fancy but, beyond any doubt, is the best ribs you have ever had. Donald, on the other hand, has a small steak and salad and a glass of milk. He eats fastidiously, but slowly, enjoying every mouth full.

Talk is of inconsequential things but always pleasant and stimulating.

He tells you Pat's story which is rather intriguing. The story of a college athlete who made it as an All-American and signed a monstrous pro contract with the old Cleveland Browns. Of the first pro game he played and destroying his left knee. Of coming to him 6 months later, after major surgery on his knee, asking for advice. He had 6 million dollars in his bank account and no future at 21.

Donald explains that had looked around and noticed this roadhouse, ideally located, and up for sale. It seem ideal, close to the university, his university background in sports, his pro fame...the ingredients were all there. He made a few contacts among the alumni and suddenly the 12 million-dollar asking price was met. Pat became the major owner but the other owners give him the advice so that he doesn't make any major mistakes.

* * * * *

As you look around you conclude, correctly, it is a gold mine.

As the meal and the conversation wind to a close you see the Governor and his party of eight arrive and see that there is a disagreement and angry words exchanged, but the Governor, after glaring in your direction, leaves in a huff.

Finished your meal you leave the restaurant, get into the car, and quietly proceed back to you home.

As you get out of the car he comes around and, placing his hand near your elbow walks with you up the icy walk, not touching you, but there just in case you might slip. When you reach the door you fumble with you keys and when you get it open you turn to face the inevitable only to find, his hand outstretched to shake yours.

"Thank you for a wonderful day. It has been a very enjoyable day for me. I can't tell you when I have enjoyed myself more. I am indeed fortunate that your furnace went out. Fate was kind to me today."

Finally, you mentally explode. As you take his hand to shake it you say silently to yourself 'what in the fuck is going on with this guy, I don't even know WHO he is, and, now, after a wonderful day, all he wants to do is shake my hand! This is fucking unbelievable. Why is he not at least trying to cop a feel or get in for a quick lay'.

As he turns to walk back done to the car you ask him if he would like a cup of coffee to finish off the evening. He hesitates before he says, "are you concerned about what your neighbors might say?"

You are dumb- struck. You don't know what to say. All you can think is 'Where the fuck is this guy from, another universe or time zone?'

All you can think to say is "no."

"Alright," he responds I would love a cup of coffee and follows you into the house closing the door behind quietly.

* * * * *

You take his coat, hang it in the closet, and when he is sitting on the couch in the living room with remote TV clicker flipping through the channels, you go to the kitchen to make coffee.

It takes longer than you had planned. It doesn't seem appropriate that that you do instant so the perk comes out. The mugs are left in the cupboard and two china cups and sauces come out with the matching cream and sugar dispenser. Some napkins and teaspoons and you are ready.

As you walk back into the living room you are thunderstruck.

There he is sitting on the chesterfield watching a re-run of the American President with Annette Benning and Michael Douglas and crying like a baby.

You set the tray down on the coffee table take the clicker turn the TV off and hurl the clicker at the wall smashing it into a thousand pieces.

Your rage has no bounds. You don't care what you say. You are beyond reason. You turn to him and with all the fury you can muster you scream:

"I've had enough. Who, the fuck, are you? I want some answers and I want them now. Why are you sitting in front of my TV crying like a baby? Why do these people call you Doctor and Professor? Why do they fawn all over you as if you represent the next coming of Jesus Christ? Why does the goddamn Governor call you by name?

You're just a fucking Burner Service Technician, for Christ sakes? Where is your wife that you referred to in the car?"

"I want some answers and I want them now."

You stand there fuming.

The steam is rising from you ears.

If you had High blood pressure you would have just had a stroke.

You are ready to hit him and it is almost as if he hasn't heard you.

Slowly he reaches for a napkin and wipes his eyes and starts to talk and talk and talk. He can't shut up and you listen in amazement.

You know, he starts that Movie American President is a great movie. Hollywood intended it, as a piece of romantic comedy and they don't even know what they were writing about. The truth that they told escaped them.

The president, the most powerful man in the world, is also the loneliest. He lost his wife to cancer and there he, is running the world, and trying to raise a 12 year old. She is smarter than he is. All he wants to do is think about his dead wife and the twelve-year old has already figured that life goes on. Amazing.

Remember the scene when he meets Annette and she is mean- mouthing him to Martin Sheen. He was captivated, but he didn't know why. That was the beginning of when he started to finally let go of his dead wife. Remember all his staff around him. All they wanted to do was protect him, like my friends today. Remember when he tried to talk to his daughter about inviting his lady friend to supper and he stumbled and stuttered and finally she took the bull by the horns and said "Dad, it's alright." Imagine out of the mouths of babes. She was smarter than the most important, powerful man in the world. Remember when he was shooting pool in the White House at night with Martin Sheen and he was trying to find out if she liked him. I thought that was priceless. Then him trying for the first time in 40 years to ask her for a date and the phones not working and she didn't believe that it was him on the phone.

You say nothing you just listen.

"Best movie I have ever seen, and it is just cheap popular trash."

"Very meaningful to me."

* * * * *

Then, for the first time, he looks you in the eyes and says, "well today you were Annette Benning and I was Michael Douglas."

"When I was 19, and in my third year of University, I met Mary who was a seventeen-year-old freshman. We fell in love and married immediately. We worked our way through school and when she graduated with a teaching degree she started teaching grade one and I kept on studying and researching and getting degrees. It is just what we did."

"We had a wonderful life. We lived for each other. It was heaven. Mary always use to take pride in my achievements, the degrees, the honors, she was always by my side. She was always a very clever woman but she always teased me in private saying "Donald, you are the brains of the family there is two things you will never have to fear. Me dying of a brain tumor or breast cancer." Mary was very sensitive about the small size of her breasts although I could never understand why."

"It is so ironic that she always said that."

"Three years ago she passed away of breast cancer."

"I have been living in the past."

"Today I came to service you furnace and there, in your robe and slippers, was my Annette Benning. Don't ask me to explain it, that is just is the way it is."

"I asked you to go out."

"I have never looked at another woman since I was 19 years old. Since Mary died it seemed so, unfaithful, to do so, until today. As I sat and talked to you in the kitchen I finally came to the realization that life has to go on and Mary told me that I was to make a new life without her. I just could not accept that. Now I can."

* * * * *

"Have you ever heard of the 19th Century American philosopher David Thoreau. Remember he is the one who said, "You can never go home".

What he meant, in simple terms, is you can never go back to the way things were in the past. The past is dead, cherish the memories, but move on. This morning in your kitchen I finally came to grips with that philosophy and made the decision to move on with my life."

"Before I picked you up at noon I resigned my position with the Burner Service Company. When we were first married it was hard to make ends meet and go to school so I worked as a Burner Service Technician. It was great because I was on call at nights and could go to school and research during the day. The nights were mine unless there was a call but I got paid. When Mary died I took up the old job thinking that somehow in the recesses of my mind that it would keep me close to Mary. Silly, I know, but that is how I thought until today."

"When Mary died I tried to keep up with my teaching at the University but it just wasn't the same. My heart wasn't in it. So I took early retirement to do other things. Those silly people at the University thought so much of me that they named me Professor Emeritus of the History Department of the University of Ohio. So I am now known as Dr. Donald Williams, Ph.D. Professor Emeritus. Silly title really. All it means is that anytime I am bored I can go to the University and go into any history classroom and tell the lecturer to go for coffee and I can teach his class."

"You will recall that the governor stopped me today to enquire about the report. They have me studying higher education in this state.

"Stop." you shout.

Startled he looks at you.

"Are you, the Dr. Donald Williams, the one all over the front pages of the newspapers for the last six weeks. The one that has every politician peeing his pants wondering what you are going to recommend regarding educational reform and how they are going to raise the taxes to pay for it?"

* * * * *

He just looks at you and smiles.

"No wonder the governor didn't make a scene at the restaurant he's worried that you have him by the balls".

Again her just smiles.

"I must apologize for my friends at the University. They meant well. They knew that Mary and I were inseparable. They have never, ever seem me with another woman. They are very protective of me. All the co-eds that I have even taught sense that I am no threat to them and they seem to have adopted me as their local Daddy that they have to take care of in the absence of their mother. I am a diabetic and have to have my snacks and they watch me like a hawk. I can never cheat it's a real pain in the neck sometimes."

"I don't want to concern you but I can assure you that you are the talk of many a dorm room and dinner table tonight."

He grins for the first time.

"Who was the professor with?"

"Everybody will be checking you out to-morrow I can guarantee you."

He lapses into silence.

Slowly he looks you in the eyes and takes you hand in his.

"Denise, there is something about you that I find irresistible. You have aroused feelings in me today that I thought were dead and buried. This morning, as I sat and talked to you, I realized just how special you were. No mortal man has the right to expect that he could find love a second time around. You do not give yourself enough credit. You are bright and intelligent beyond all book learning. You have a backbone of spring steel. You are determined to take all that life throws at you and defeat it or go down swinging. No quarter asked and none given. No mercy will be shown."

"When I told you the price of the part, you didn't beg or whine,

try to wheedle a deal, you bit your tongue and did what had to be done. That is a rare quality in today's day and age."

"Your grasp of the world around you that I perceived this morning is truly remarkable. I don't think you give yourself enough credit, you are a very astute individual."

Gently he raises you hand to his lips and kisses your fingertips.

You notice, for the first time, the wedding ring is gone.

Donald looks at his watch and exclaims "my goodness, look at the time, it's almost 2:00 A.M. If I don't leave the neighbors will think you are a Scarlet lady!"

Scarlet Lady? What kind of name is that you think?

He rises and goes to the door and puts on his heavy clothes. You realize that you do not want this man to leave, he is special in some particular undefined way that you cannot explain, that he is totally unique, unlike anything you have experienced in life is beyond question, but you do not know how to get him to stay. You are totally tongue tied.

As he turns to open the door you gently rise on your toes to kiss him good bye on the cheek and, unexpectedly, he turns to you to make one last comment, instead of your lips meeting his cheek they meet his lips.

The pleasure of the kiss is all the more because it is totally unexpected by both of you. Startled, neither knows how to react, but neither wants to take the initiative to break it for fear that the special moment may disappear forever, never to be recaptured. If you or he break it, it will show hesitancy to the other, a fear, an uncertainty that neither feels but is afraid that the other does, the hesitancy and the tentativeness of the kiss slowly disappears, and a hunger is introduced. You flow into his arms and he into yours. Your arms snake around each other and a passion begins to smolder, your tongue plays with his lips and soon his tongue and yours are dancing.

Finally neither of you can go on and you break your embrace.

You can't look him in the eyes but slowly in a quiet but firm voice with you head lowered and your eyes on the floor you say,

"Don't go...I don't want you to go...please don't go."

His response is so totally in character that earlier you would have laughed out loud but now such a response would seem to be like an obscenity shouted in a church.

"I want to stay, but what might the neighbors say?"

You don't answer because there is no appropriate answer. You gently reach past him and turn off the porch light and take him by the hand down the hall to your bedroom turning off the lights as you go.

The bedroom is still a little upset from your quick preparations for you date with him, a century ago. Luckily the bed is made and the clothes are pretty well picked up. The only light is from the ensuite bathroom, which you had left on.

As you go through the door you turn to him and flow into his arms. The passion smoldering under the surface erupts and your hands and his fly. Your tongue is down his throat and his hands firmly cup the cheeks of your ass as he draws you to the hardness in his loins.

Unseen hands remove your clothing and you are soon on the bed, naked in the embrace of each other.

There is just enough light form the bathroom that each of you can dimly see the other.

Fortunately, you have the presence of mind to say:

'Donald, don't forget to put on your condom."

* * * * *

Dead silence. The mood is broken. It is as if the governor has just walked through the door and turned on the lights to introduce you to the reporters and photographers who are standing at the entrance to the bedroom.

Quietly Donald says:

"I.... I...I...don't have one"

Without thinking, you blurt: "What do you mean you don't have one, no self respecting man goes out without a condom in his wallet. It is just like putting on your pants and taking your watch when you go out. "

His absolute total embarrassment is evident in his response.

"I am so so sorry, when Mary and I wed there was no need to practice safe sex and we wanted children although we were never blessed. The doctors tried but Mary had a problem that could not be corrected, when she died I never looked at another woman it was the last thing on my mind. It would have been so, disloyal."

"I have never used a condom in my life, you must think I am awful."

All you can think is what a strange and wonderful man. In so many ways he is powerful and has touched so many lives in a positive manner but in so many ways his is totally out of his element in the modern world, It is almost as if he belongs in another age, of chivalry, Of knights on horses and in shining armor, and damsels in distress,

Not exposed to the barracuda's of modern society.

You reach over to you bedside stand and fumble among the assorted detris collected in the drawer. The unused leftovers from nights of passion that left you totally unsatisfied. You touch on discarded condoms. The "Screamers", the "Slick Willies", the "Climax Plus" and the ribbed ticklers which you encounter seem totally inappropriate.

Finally your fingers settle on a plain condom in a silver foil wrapper.

Gently, you hand it to him.

* * * * *

As he fumbles to unwrap it and place it on his member it is obvious that he has never done this before.

Your heart aches for this man and finally you say,

"Here, let me help."

You reach for the condom and begin to place it on his member. As you touch it, it springs back to life. It grows and grows and grows. You are astonished. You blurt out: "Jesus, Donald, its monstrous. It has to be a full 10 inches. Do you know how well hung you are?

His response is both charming and naïve.

"No, I don't, I never had and opportunity to compare it with anyone else. Mary and I only had each other so she never could compare it to others on the market so to speak. It seemed to satisfy her, she used to refer to it as her 'Mr. Tally Whacker'. "

Smiling shyly, he takes you in his arms and stops any further questions by starting to kiss you. As you close you eyes and drift, your senses begin to take over and you feel yourself being lowered on you back on the bed. Tenderly he begins exploring your body an inch at a time. He kisses your eyelids, you eyes, nose and gently nibbles at you ears. Slowly he licks his way down your neck and begins to work on your breasts. Your nipples become erect and, as he continues to work, they become hard. You notice that your breathing is starting to become a little more rapid and begin to drift ever so gently on the smooth current of the river.

His tongue is like a gentle breeze caressing your body, so gentle so light that you barely know it is there, but it is real because your body is responding as you begin to breathe a little faster.

He takes both of your hands in his and holds them by your side as if to tell you "please let me love you, relax, I don't want you to do anything."

* * * * *

He kisses and licks his way down your stomach to your bellybutton and reams it until you think you are going insane.

Ever so slowly he works his way down over your abdomen and begins to softly blow on the curls of your pubic mound. Almost involuntarily you slowly spread your knees further apart and he releases your hands. He slides his arms under your knees and extends them so that his palms are cupping the cheeks of your ass.

You are totally exposed to his tongue as it begins to slowly probe your vagina. Slowly he nibbles and bites and licks. You reach down and begin to pull and push at his head, trying to direct him but he ignores you, determined to give you pleasure in his way, not yours.

Every so subtly you feel your self caught up in a faster current. The blood in your veins seems to be flowing faster. Your head pounds and there is a tingling in your limbs that you have not felt in a long, long time.

He incessant tongue keeps probing, probing, probing, it never stops moving.

Soon it discovers that special little leprechaun hiding in his cave at the top of your slit. Slowly the little fellow arises, wiping sleep from his eyes and emerges in the light of day. Ever so slowly he begins to get in the spirit and slowly begins to dance. As you emotions swirl and heighten the little man picks up the pace dancing to the music of the tongue swirling, probing, never stopping. Your breathing becomes faster more ragged, the current in the river speeds up. The tingling in your limbs spreads.

Donald gently slides up your body, keeping his hands under your thighs and begins to kiss you on the lips, his tongue begins to probe your mouth and you can taste, for the first time in your life the salty taste of your own juices. You are totally obscenely exposed to him, your knees raised and splayed apart and then you feel him beginning to slide into you. It is so easy, so smooth, so gentle, that it seems unreal, but it is real.

As he penetrates you to your very core you appreciate his size. You feel engorged, stuffed, and he continues to penetrate past your cervix and into the mouth of your womb. He penetrates to the very center of your being and he still penetrates into, your soul.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins the ageless dance of copulation.

The pace begins to quicken and your pulse races. You sense that he is not going to last long but for once in your life it is all right, because you are almost there.

The blood rushes to your head and the current in the river takes you to the falls. As you approach you begin to moan more and more audibly, Until you feel that you are shouting.

Finally, at the peak of orgasm you scream: "Donald, Donald, me NOW."

In that instant Donald pours 3 years of pent-up love into the very core of you're being and collapses on you.

Slowly he rolls off and laying on his back extending his left arm around your shoulders and drawing you near to him. You cradle your head on his chest and listen as his heart rate slowly returns to normal.

You drift, neither awake or asleep, in that blissful state of contentment that only a woman can feel when she perceives that she has not been screwed but rather has been made love to by a loving caring soulmate.

You reflect on the events of the day and all you have learned about this strange man.

"Was it the best fuck you have ever had" you ponder. The answer is no, definitely not the best, although you can't remember who precisely was better, but, also it was far form the worst. Strangely it was, by far, the most satisfying, and, you wonder why, until it suddenly dawns on you, that it was the most satisfying because this man really cares for you and is interested only in you, not him. What a strange thing!

* * * * *

As you drift you cannot help but do some mental math. She was 17...he was 19...30 years married...3 years dead...

He's 52. I'm 40... that are only 12 years. He is not old enough to be my father!

As you let your fingertips idly draw patterns on his stomach, your fingers wander farther and farther afield, until they are playing in all the remaining juices on his loins, cock and upper thighs, your awareness awakens a little and your hand snakes down to your lower belly and pussy and you find your self awash in his juices, your eyes open like saucers and in the dim light you look at his cock, all that is left is the latex ring half way up his semi inflated pole!

"Oh, Jesus Christ" you think. "I put the condom on him and didn't think there was any need for my diaphragm."

* * * * *

P.S. A Scarlet lady is a 19th Century term used in polite society to describe a Lady of the Evening or, to put it boldly, a whore


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