Alone for Too Long

I've written several stories about two people of a certain age finding each other and I have generally not been overly explicit in describing their intimacy. I wanted to take this one further.

Some readers will say that a person like Claire does not exist. Enough of us know that they do. They are often complicated, long overlooked people who live without love never knowing why. They typically deserve better.

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"How did we get to this sorry state?" It was an odd question for me to ask, but this night I was feeling my age and enough frustration fatigue to give voice to my frustration.

Claire just laughed. That was her way. Sometimes she laughed because it was funny, and sometimes she laughed because she was self-conscious or uncomfortable. It seemed to be a nervous tick and you often couldn't tell which laugh was which. Still, she was almost always in a good mood unless she was dealing with someone who was making her life harder when they're being paid to make it easier. The support staff at work seemed to go that way more and more these days and I was about at the end of my rope with that nonsense as well. Since that topic succeeded is pissing off the both of us, we avoided it tonight.

There we sat, side by side on the hotel couch, sipping our drinks and talking. We had adjoining rooms, although it was an unplanned coincidence, and I decided to open the honor bar where overpriced liquor waits for unsuspecting victims. Screw it. We were ending a long day of sitting in unpleasant seats while drivers and pilots moved us from there to here and we deserved it.

Claire picked up on my rhetorical question. "What do you mean "this sorry state'? Speak for yourself old man."

She's a funny girl. She's also a full 14 months older than me, but we both know it and I wasn't going to rub it in.

"Why are we still doing this shit? We're old enough to collect Social Security for crying out loud, but we're still running around the country like a couple of newbies." It was the truth.

"I've decided that I'm going to put up with the shit for a few more years just so I can enjoy those rare moments when I get to close my office door, pull up a piece of honest work on the computer screen, and do something that makes me feel like I've still got it! So long as I can do that, all the stupid shit is almost worth it."

I was nodding slowly. I had to agree she was right, and I was doing the same thing.

"To be honest, some things have gotten worse, but other things just annoy me more than they used to. It seems like management keeps changing accounting systems or reporting software or something else every year and the new programs don't work any better than the old ones. They just consume our time learning to do the same thing with new tools. I don't know if I'm getting old or I've just been doing this long enough to see that things don't need to be this frustrating."

She looked at me. We were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and she was staring into my eyes close enough for me to feel her breath. "Aren't they one in the same?"

"Probably."

"Besides, what would you do if you weren't working? Are you going to get a straw hat and garden all day or take up stamp collecting?" She was laughing and as usual I couldn't tell which kind of laugh it was.

"I was thinking I'd take up womanizing."

That earned me a scowl. "You old goat!"

"Well, at my age most women are getting slower what with all that arthritis and all..."

Okay, now she was laughing again.

I was trying to turn this around. "You know, you're not doing great things for my ego here. You're supposed to be saying things like, 'I bet you'll have them lining up at the door!' You know, lie to me!"

Okay, by now we are both laughing and being silly.

We calmed down after a bit and things turned more serious, if still a bit playful.

"How come we never go dancing?"

That question practically knocked me off my seat. I looked at her, again up close where I could feel her breath on my face, and shrugged, "I never thought of it." She seemed to deflate at that response. "That came out wrong. What I mean is I haven't thought of dancing in so long that I don't know if I can still do it. I danced with my daughter at her wedding, but my wife lost interest in dancing with me a long time ago."

"Your wife lost interest in doing anything with you a long time ago."

"True. If it hadn't been for my daughter, I'd have left her years ago."

"Liar! You stayed for years after your daughter went to college. You just aren't the type to cut and run. I've watched you take whatever crap is thrown at you and you try to make it work. You made those promises when you stood with her in the church, and you wouldn't break your word no matter how bad it got." Claire knew me too well and she never let me get away with anything.

I took a deep breath. She was right, of course. I just wasn't the type to cut and run. "I guess she did me a favor when she left."

"I think she did you dirty for years and finally left when she wanted to go." She wasn't wrong.

We were quiet for a time after that. It's true what Claire said. My wife left me three years earlier and moved in with her latest distraction. He had money and she fed his ego. I'll give him credit for this much - he had enough sense to know that a young trophy wife would be more trouble than she was worth whereas my wife would work for it.

"I never told you; I never told anyone. She ended our sex life years before she left."

Claire seemed stunned for a moment and then shook her head. "I always figured that sex was the only reason you kept her around."

I scoffed. "Not hardly! The truth is she moved into her own room and after a time I just got used to it. By then she was living her own life going out more than she was home, and I decided to do the same." I looked at her. "Well, not the same so much as just my own thing. I actually kept my vows for what that's worth. Once Britt went off to college I stopped caring altogether. Before that I wanted Britt to have a normal home life. After she left, I was happiest when Barb was out of the house. I suppose I should have divorced her then, but I had too much inertia and just went on living my own life."

There was sadness in Claire's eyes. She cared for this man and his pain was obvious.

"And by the way, I do play golf! I'm not collecting stamps and I prefer to buy my vegetables at the farmers' market." She was laughing quietly now.

She squeezed my hand. "It still shouldn't be like this."

She wasn't wrong.

"What about you? How have you avoided getting tied down all these years?" I regretted it the moment I said it.

Her face turned sad. "Nobody ever asked." There was such vulnerability in her face.

"I find that hard to believe."

She stared down at her drink without speaking and stirred the ice with her finger. With a deep breath she raised her head and looked at me with sad and frightened eyes. "Can I tell you something and will you keep it between us?"

"Claire, you can tell me anything. You know that."

With another deep breath, and again staring at the ice in her glass, she whispered, "I've never even been with a naked man."

I was momentarily speechless. At first, I couldn't believe it, and then I didn't know what to say. I finally decided that at the very least she needed a smile. "Well, we're overrated." It worked. Now I was squeezing her hand and she was smiling a sad smile.

Claire said quietly as if speaking to herself, "I wonder what's worse, not being wanted or knowing that the person you love wants someone else?" It was clear she was feeling the pain of loneliness.

"You know neither one of us is so old that we can't still enjoy intimacy."

There were so many emotions written across her face after I said that. There was doubt, sadness, and did I see hope?

"No man wants an old woman" she said with sad resolve. "I'm not what I once was, and I wasn't much even then." She was being very hard on herself. "I'm not that 25-year-old hard body that men want. Everything sags. My boobs jiggle when I walk and not in a good way."

I had to smile at that. If I were truthful, I had long imagined what Claire is like when she's naked. "Claire, neither one of us is 25 anymore. Time doesn't do great things for men, either. Does that really matter? Isn't intimacy all about accepting the other person the way they are and celebrating a relationship together? Isn't it about the joy of giving pleasure to someone else and letting them pleasure you?"

She was quiet after that and seemed deep in thought.

I, too, thought for a time after saying that and tried to weigh my motivations. This was a friend, a dear friend, and since the divorce I'd begun to think of her as much more, but was I being fair to her? Was I being honest with myself? Still, I knew what I wanted.

"Claire?"

She turned to me. "Yes, Bill?"

"Get naked with me." Just like that, I said it.

She looked shocked, but not offended. "What?"

"You heard me. I want us to get naked together."

Now I realized she was visibly scared.

I took her hand, and she grasped mine like it was a lifeline. "I'll tell you what. We'll each strip down to our underwear and then we'll have a second drink."

"I think maybe you've already had too many." She was laughing nervously.

"No, just the one like you. I know what I'm saying and it's something that I've wanted to say for a long time. I want you and me to strip down to our underwear and then sit together and enjoy a drink."

It was clear she was considering the idea and she was very nervous.

"And then what?"

"And then we talk and see how we feel." I couldn't help but smile. That may have been an unfortunate choice of words, but I had hope.

Claire was quiet for a long time, but she never took her eyes off mine. Finally, she gave me a quiet and hesitant "Okay. Here, or should I go into my room to change?"

You couldn't have wiped the smile off my face if you tried. My heart was pounding. "Here." I stood and I began to unbutton my shirt. She hesitated for a moment, and then still visibly nervous she stood before me and began to do the same. Soon we were both down to our T-shirts and I was thinking, "This isn't so hard. We can do this." I suppose she was thinking much the same, but she was watching me to see what we would do next. So I sat and began to remove my shoes. She followed with a giggle. I think she was beginning to gain some confidence. Her socks came off with a flip of her wrist and we sat opposite each other, me on the bed and she on the couch, just grinning like two teenagers playing show and tell for the first time.

I softly said, "You ready?" I was breathing hard, and her face was flush.

She nodded yes and we both stood, then silently began to unbuckle our belts. I took a chance to elevate the play and stepped to close the gap between us. She seemed to instinctively raise her arms and take hold of my shoulders as I reached down to finish unbuckling her belt. I think I caught her by surprise when she quickly looked down at my hands to watch me work and then slowly back to my face. I could now see excitement in her eyes as I'm sure I had in my own. Her belt released, the button on her waistband opened, and I slowly slipped her zipper down as I guided my fingers on either side. I was cheating. It was supposed to be look but don't touch and I was touching, but she didn't object. With her pants now opened, I slipped my hands along her hips and her pants fell to the floor.

Quietly, but with a new confidence, she said, "My turn."

She was smiling like a child opening her presents at Christmas and I was a very happy present. She slid her hands down my chest and then slowly and deliberately unbuckled my belt, undid the button of my slacks, and unzipped my pants in the most sensuous movement I think I have ever experienced. My pants were tenting and there was no denying the effect she was having on me. There was no hiding it from her, either.

Her hand gently brushed my member and then she slid my pants to the floor.

So there we were, two grinning fools both old enough to collect Social Security playing show and tell for the first time with our pants down around our ankles and not knowing what to do next. Don't ask me how she did it, but she sat down and removed her pants from her ankles without her knees parting so much as an inch. I know because I watched. She tossed her pants to the side with a confidence I'd not seen since I made my suggestion and stared at me as if to dare me to do the same. Needless to say, I did, but I was not as smooth about it. She got a wide-eyed view of my tenting briefs and balls as I struggled to get my pants over my feet, but I got an inviting smile for my efforts and that made it all very much worthwhile.

She held up her empty glass. "I believe you promised me a refill?"

Women are so much more poised than men. She'd gone from self-doubts and embarrassment to seeming confidence while I was struggling to remove my socks.

"Yes, I did." I took her glass and let my erection point me to the minibar. I don't think my means of navigation was lost on my companion, but she said nothing about it. By the time I turned back to deliver her glass I had lost some of my size, but her eyes still followed my shorts as I returned.

"You're cheating."

"What?!" She was surprised by my remark.

"I said 'You're cheating.' We agreed on briefs and Ts, but you're still wearing your bra."

"You said underwear."

"Well, I meant briefs and Ts." I was being playful and very hopeful.

I got a little glimpse of that nervousness again, but she made her decision, pulled her arms inside her T-shirt, and with a few movements that would make Houdini proud pulled her bra out the arm of her T and tossed it aside with her pants. "Satisfied?" she said.

"Very. I'm more than satisfied." I was breathing deep, and I was staring, but I didn't care. Her areolas were visible through her shirt, and they were mesmerizing. Her nipples were like large dark brown erasers from the end of a number two pencil that were trying to poke through the thin cotton of her shirt. For a moment I had the strangest thought of all the men who had been denied knowing her this way and I felt sorry for them, but the moment passed and all I could think was how lucky I was to be here, right now, like this with her.

I handed her the drink I'd prepared while I struggled and failed to take my eyes off her breasts.

"I'm glad you're not disappointed."

I finally raised my eyes to look in her face and said, "How could I be disappointed? You're beautiful." I meant ever word of it. As I caught my breath, I asked, "May I join you?"

She glanced to the couch beside her and nodded.

The next hour was as delightful as any I've ever spent. We were playful. She was flirtatious. We were each just one layer of cotton away from nudity and it started to feel more than adventurous; it felt right. I soon placed my arm across the back of the couch behind her and she slipped closer to my side. We talked, we laughed, and we stole glances at one another. It wasn't until we had both finished our drinks and set them aside that I took my chance. I placed my hand under her chin, raised it, and I kissed her. I meant for the kiss to be tenuous, an introduction of an idea, but we held the kiss as it seemed to go on forever. Forever lasted a minute, but it was a wonderful minute. It was a kiss with intent.

As I dropped my hand from her chin, it brushed gently across her breast, and she didn't flinch or break the kiss.

When the kiss had ended, I wanted her to know this was not just a game. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time."

As we held each other's gaze she asked, "Now what, Bill?"

My heart was racing like a teenager in the back seat after prom. "Take a shower with me."

Her face was flushed like before. "What?"

"Take a shower with me, Claire. I'd like so much to take a shower with you, but you need to promise me that you won't laugh." I was smiling, but I was very earnest. The years are no kinder to a man than they are to a woman.

That earned me a nervous laugh. "Are you taking pity on me, Bill? Is this because I've never been with a naked man before?"

"No, but I'm hoping you'll take pity on me!" I stood holding my hand for her to take, and I tried not to beg. "Everyone needs someone who has seen them naked, and I don't mean their doctor or their ex-wife. Everyone needs someone who accepts them when they're naked and who wants to be naked with them. Claire, I want to be naked with you. I want to take a shower with you where we can scrub each other's backs and then wash all the choice bits, too." I couldn't read the expression on her face. "Claire, will you join me?"

Her answer came quietly, almost too quiet to hear, with hesitancy and fear. "Yes."

She took my hand and rose. I know the smile on my face made me look like a goof, but I couldn't help it. "There's one more thing." She looked momentarily puzzled and I took that opportunity to kiss her again. Her response was to kiss me again with passion. I slipped my arms around her and held her as the kiss went on and on. There were just two thin layers of cotton between us now and she could feel my stiffening erection pressing against her stomach. There was no mistaking the effect she was having on me.

With our arms around each other, we walked toward the shower. It happens from time to time, and the front desk had given me a walk-in shower. The room was built for someone in a chair, but when it's unclaimed they give rooms like this to random guests. The walk-in shower was spacious. More than that, I hate those simple tub showers with their slippery surfaces. This shower was made for comfort and safety, and as it turns out it was perfect for two people.

Now you young folks out there aren't going to understand this. In fact, you might just stop reading right here, but we were two lonely people well past our prime and we were getting naked together for the first time. Moments like this are not for the faint of heart, but then neither is getting older. Neither one of us was the hard body of our teenage years. There were bumps and lumps and bulges where we didn't want them and there was sag where there used to be tight curves. Still, we were what we were, and we wanted to share ourselves with each other.

With our arms around each other, our kisses grew more passionate, and my lips explored her neck. Standing outside the bathroom door on the warm carpet of the room, we completed the process of undressing together. We moved slowly, teasing one another's last clothes away. We kissed and fondled, and then taking turns we slipped each other's T over their head. Her breasts were even more beautiful than I could tell through the thin cotton of her shirt.

Wearing nothing but our briefs and panties, we walked hand-in-hand into the bathroom and turned on the shower. It was a seminal moment in every sense. We were joyful in our acceptance of one another. There was no judgment and no disappointment; there was only pleasure and a growing sense of worth. We had both lived too long without this much-needed appreciation from another human being that intimacy could bring, and as we hugged and kissed our satisfaction in ourselves and each other grew.

As my satisfaction in the moment grew, so did my erection. I had imagined that I would take my time and not overwhelm her with this reality, but the little head had a different idea. All her doubts seemed to have evaporated as she stepped back to admire what she had done.

"It's your fault, you know!" I was trying to make a joke of it, but it was the undeniable truth.

Apparently satisfied with her accomplishment, she stepped toward me smiling and took me in her hand as she kissed me. It was in every way a warm and affectionate lover's touch. She dropped to her knees, slipped her fingers under the waistband of my shorts, and tugged them to the floor. My erection jumped from the confines of my briefs and would have slapped her in the face if she hadn't leaned back at the last moment. My penis jumped up like an erect Jack-in-the-Box, and for a brief moment it seemed to take her breath away. I doubt that I'm exceptional, but she seemed pleased. Faced with my one-eyed monster, she didn't flinch; she smiled, took me in her hands, and kissed me lovingly. Her warm mouth on my erect member felt heavenly.