Angela Meets Her Don Juan

"Oh no, Geoffrey. Perhaps I scandalize some of my vegan friends, but I am very much a carnivore. You should see me at a barbecue."

"Oh, I hope to do so. We have a big Tex-Mex night for Independence Day. We have the little contest among our chefs to see who can create the juiciest ribs, the rub mas picante, and the most flavorful sauce. I sincerely hope you will attend."

"If I have an invitation you couldn't keep me away."

"I will make sure it happens." He saluted her with his glass. "And now, before we enjoy our dessert, I suggest we take a small stroll around the grounds. It aids the digestion and it is a beautiful night with a bright crescent moon, so we can enjoy the view."

He stood and removed his bib and then went behind her to remove hers. He stood for a moment with warm, strong hands on her shoulders. Angela felt very 'cared for.'

"I could come to like this." She thought. "One could get used to this level of pampering, even if it meant catering to an old gent with not much gas still in his tank."

"Shall we walk?" He invited, taking her elbow. "The night is not to cool, not too hot. The blooms lift their fragrance up to the bright stars of this valley, and some of our plantings are very fragrant, one a special surprise."

They passed through another beautiful tiled archway toward the back of the inn. Tiny lumière lights lit a path paved in broken shells. In the distance the last glow of sunset rimmed the mountains and the moon was rising above a row of majestic palms. Beguiling scents came out of the gloaming around them. Angela picked out pungent sage, then lavender, then rosemary.

"What is that?" A large tree that caught the moonlight on its shiny leaves and large white blossoms also filled the air with sweet perfume.

"That is the magnolia grandiflora. I planted it here many, many years ago when I had just arrived as a boy from Ajijic on Lake Chapala. We had one that grew next to the house of my abuela. It is the symbol of longevity. She lived a very long time, and hopefully so will I."

"You seem very vigorous for ...." Angela bit her tongue. Why call attention to her date's age.

"... a man of my years. You may say it. With these white hairs it is clear that I am not young. Is it an audacity that I should seek to spend an evening with a woman so young? Yes, of course it is. And yet, like the aging tree, I would hold that I still have wonders to offer, joys, if you will, that come from time, and experience. A young man can be a virtuoso on the violin, but a master can put feeling into the piece that touches the heart. You see?"

Geoffrey had put an arm around her waist and it was at once comforting and exciting. Who would think that a much older man would offer the unexpected, but ...

"Geoffrey, I am thinking that I must keep an open mind. I confess I have never dated someone more than a few years beyond my own age. I will be honest. I have been ready for this date to be disappointing. So far, it has been more than I could..."

"For me also, and what have we done? We talked; we swam; we shared a whirlpool; we ate some good food and drank some wine. We have walked and enjoyed the flowers in the night. But for me this is everything. If you are contented I can call your ride and you may go home to a sweet sleep."

"And if I am not 'contented'?" Angela was surprised at her own audacity, but it was the right question.

"Yes. You might think I was cheating you. After all, I promised you dessert." They had reached a stone bench overlooking a small pond surrounded by reeds. Angela heard the rustling and subdued quacks of wild ducks settling down for the night. Moonlight scintillated across the dark water.

"Yes, that too." Angela looked at him with hooded eyes, leaned in and gave him a little kiss on the cheek just at the edge of his snowy beard. It tickled and she felt a funny little jolt deep inside. He lifted her chin gently with two fingers and kissed her on the mouth. It was so different. What was it? She became lost in the soft but firm pressure of his lips, the gentle brush of the beard around her mouth, his scent, hinting at sage and a bit of hickory smoke.

After a time he took her hand and led her through winding paths to a beautiful small hacienda at the back of the inn surrounded by fragrant lavender, sage, and chaparral. A gnarled but graceful pepper tree draped its fine leaves over the front door. But Geoffrey led her around the side to an ornate iron gate. On the far side was a lovely tiled stairway that lit each step as they ascended.

They ascended to a balcony looking out over the valley. The moon was caught in a net of luminous clouds over the Topa Topa mountains. Tree frogs chirped. A small table held a glowing candle in a silver chased globe. Two shallow glasses of wine and a single plate holding a round golden brown dessert in a pool of syrup.

"Ah, here we are." Geoffrey seated Angela next to the table. "This is an old recipe for flan my grandmother has made from the buttermilk."

"I assume your grandmother didn't cook this one." Angela saluted him with her glass. The wine was sweet and fruity. "Mmm."

"You like this. Also from the vineyard up the coast. I think it is unique. And no, lástima, my grandmother could not be here to make this flan, or even my mother. But my sister, she knows all the tricks." He handed her a spoon. "We can share."

"My pleasure."

"I hope so."

Angela dug into the soft custard, scooping up some caramel sauce and lifted it to her lips.

"Mmm, I'm being kissed by an angel."

"Yes, this is true. And perhaps, just perhaps, I will be able to compare it to the real thing."

"Ah, the man with the silver tongue."

"So some have said. Perhaps you will judge for yourself." His bright pink tongue licked a spot of flan from his lips.

Something was making Angel lightheaded, and she realized it wasn't exactly the wine, or the amazing creamy dessert, or the sparkling eyes of her date. Her breath was high in her chest, and she discovered, with a bit of embarrassment that it was because she felt impatient. Was it that her host was clever in 'buttering her up' with all the delicious food and compliments? Maybe. So often on a date she felt the guy was 'paying her' with the dinner, or by picking up the bar tab, or taking her to a show. But somehow she knew she could walk away from this evening right this moment and Geoffrey would be gracious and grateful.

But she didn't want to. What was going to come next?

Her potty-mouthed brain whispered, "You, Angela. That is what is going to come next. And then, perhaps, him."

She found herself asking, "So, is this where you live?"

Geoffrey nodded, his eyes soft over his wine glass. "Yes, much of the time, though I have other places. But this is my nest. Would you like to see it?"

"I'd be delighted."

"Yes, I hope so." He led her through a tiled arch off the balcony. The place had a rustic rancho feel, very masculine and yet beautifully decorated with paintings in the style of Diego Rivera, colorful sculptures in wood and papier maché, old iron antiques, spurs, lassos, a saddle. The furniture was old brown leather or colorful serape patterns. The lights resembled candles.

Angela exhaled. "This place is so ... comfortable. I feel I could just hang out here, read a magazine, listen to music."

"It is a good space. This, my kitchen. Yes, sometimes I cook for myself or my guests when my sister of the chefs are not doing their magic. Then I like the simple dishes, the rice, beans, tortillas platanos, ropa vieja of my childhood. But as my mother was English, I like those things too. The library with some very old Shakespeare and Byron. And I love the music from everywhere. Try me, what would you like to hear?"

Angela loved music too, from all periods. Should she test him?

"How about some Buena Vista Social Club or LAGQ, or Benjamin Britten?"

"Of course, very good choices." Geoffrey walked to a console and spoke in a low voice and the energetic tones of the Guitar Quartet filled the room.

"It is a comfortable space, not too large, just this area, my bedroom over there, and through that alcove, my playroom."

Angela followed him as he led the way. She expected to see a manly room with a big pool table and perhaps exercise equipment but was surprised to discover a rather small space, yes with a large screen and comfortable chairs to watch it, but the principle piece of furniture was a black leather chaise lounge. It looked comfortable, and yet ... different.

"Your playroom?"

"Yes."

"You have invited guests to play here?"

"I have, yes."

"Am I guessing that we are not speaking of foosball or virtual tennis."

"Oh we have played such games here. I have a full set of 3D headsets and game controllers. You might be surprised what is on a microchip these days."

"Or not."

"Or not. I perceive that you are a sophisticated young woman. So if I suggest that I would enjoy playing with you in this room, in an intimate way, you might not be surprised."

"I'm not surprised."

"But you are not offended?"

"No. I think I expected ... assumed ... I'll be honest, perhaps even hoped there might be some play this evening. Am I a wicked woman?"

"Not at all, merely a mature woman in a young body. And since I am a mature man in a mature body, I hope my play will not disappoint you.

"So, Geoffrey, how do we begin?"

"Well, we have already begun with this wonderful frank talk. And now, perhaps we could change into something a little less formal. In that alcove you will find a robe, other delicate things ... you are free to keep those you wear, and some perfumes and emollients if you wish to wear any of those. I will join you again in a few moments. Is the temperature good? I like it warm in this room."

"I like it too. I will join you soon."

Angela looked over the items hanging in the small cedar closet. There was a long gauzy peignoir, flouncy two piece baby-doll pajamas, an elegant black lacy nightgown that was gorgeous but somehow 'older' than she felt, two or three bikini lacies...

"Hmm," she thought as she slipped out of her dress and undergarments and stood for a moment looking at herself in the full-length mirror. "For some reason I don't really want to wear any of these. None of them is really me." She was sort of impressed with her own body. Everything was very smooth and tight and creamy. Her 'golden triangle' was tight-curly and well-groomed.

She swept her heavy red-gold hair on top of her head with some pretty combs.

"I'll keep these." She also liked the elegant formal slippers.

Slipping on the Japanese silk robe and giving herself a glance over her shoulder at the way it molded to her ass, she said. "I'm ready." And went out to meet her date.

He had been so polite, trying to put her at ease. But it didn't really work. There was a flutter in her belly, her nips were really tight, and something indescribable was happening down below. Now this. He was so prepared, so sure of himself. But of course he was leaving it open for her to say good night any time.

Geoffrey was looking very distinguished in a black silk robe with a golden dragon on the chest. He handed her a chilled drink. It fizzed, while deep in the tall glass pieces of fruit and liqueurs in two colors of blushing red mingled.

"To you." He clinked her glass and took a sip.

She did the same. "To you, and this is delicious."

"I hope so. It is the love child of the sangria of my youth and a mimosa made with sparkling rosé from our vineyards."

Angela touched him on the shoulder and met his warm grey eyes.

"Geoffrey, this has ben an amazing evening, perhaps the best date of my life. You have no idea how wonderful it is for a lady to be treated and pampered like this. Or perhaps, Don Juan, you know all too well." She gave him a gentle kiss that somehow became a deep one. Her heart was lifting in her chest.

"Angela, querida, it is I who should express gratitude. Yes, all this is very nice. I try to make it so; but I can swim and eat alone and it is nothing as compared to sharing your company. I am a man no longer in his prime and it is a rare privilege to have a woman so young and so beautiful share my evening. You have many choices in companions, so to spend just a little time with me I consider a true blessing."

He kissed her this time and it was no grandfatherly peck. His arm was strong around her waist and rested on her hip. His lips were firm and a bit hungry. Angela felt the glass slipping from her fingers.

"Ah. You can place it her in the cup holder on the lounge and I will do the same, yes, that's it, because ..."

Angela felt herself swept up safely in his arms and placed on the black leather of the chaise. She felt like she was floating up into the air, and then she realized she was floating up. The chaise was silently lifting until she was chest high to Geoffrey standing beside her. She giggled.

"Wow, that's ... different."

"Isn't it?" Geoffrey handed her her drink and sipped his own. "You see, one of my favorite 'games' is to help a beautiful woman enjoy herself fully."

"You mean I'm not your first love?" Angela winked over her drink.

"Sadly, no, although we could pretend. But the virtue of being a dirty old man is that I have worked out a few things that make the pleasure better for me and for my 'guest.' For instance, I will tell you, honestly, that I have been trained in the arts of massage. I actually have 'clients' who have been coming from my services for many years."

"You mean 'coming for your services .... oh that was rude. You speak eloquently, I ..."

"Thank you, but there was no mistake. I meant 'coming from my services', sometimes more than once in the same evening. This is not boasting. This is paying attention." It was Geoffrey's turn to wink, and sip.

"I'm curious."

"I was hoping you would be. So let me give you a little demonstration. I will start at the feet."

He stationed himself at the foot of the raised chaise and took a bottle of amber oil from a hidden compartment. He removed her slippers.

"Now." He took her foot in his strong, warm hands and squeezed. Angela felt her foot and calf relax and she realized she hadn't been aware she was tense.

"This should not tickle if I am listening correctly, but there might be a momentary ache which will be replaced by ... you will see."

Angela knew about guys who were turned on by feet. But this wasn't that. Geoffrey was massaging firmly but gently and Angela was feeling it in other places than her feet. She bit her lip to keep from moaning.

Geoffrey stopped. She opened her eyes and met his as he stood holding her foot in his warm hands.

"Angela, I would like to make a request. I think you will appreciate it if you can understand and try to do what I would like. You see, I can feel when you are tense; when something in you is holding back. Perhaps your belly is tense. You hold your breath a little. You do not wish to make a noise. I want to ask this favor, if you can,... let it go. Make a noise. Let your voice tell me how you are feeling. It does not need to be words. In fact, sounds are better. And if you let yourself breathe deeply ...

"Here, let us do a little experiment. Take a breath with me, a deep breath, through your mouth."

Angela took a big gasp. "Where was he going with this?"

"Now let it all out in a big sigh. Don't be afraid of the noise. Let it go. Push it all the way out."

Angela did as she was asked and felt a little more relaxed.

"Yes, good. And this time when you let the air out do it with a hum and a growl."

Angela did it again and felt kind of silly, but since they were both growling together it was sort of fun.

"Yes, that's nice. Now pull that air in like a singer into your belly. Let it swell full of air and then blow it out until it is more than flat." He reached forward and put his hand on her stomach. It was intimate and yet somehow safe. "Good, do that several times."

After several breaths like that Angela told him, "Hey, I'm getting light headed. Is this some kind of cheap high? I don't really want to pass out from breathing too hard."

"So sorry, but remember that kind of breath and when the feeling grows strong, please, breathe, and let me hear you. And let your body move any way that it asks. Listen to it and I will too."

Geoffrey's hands massaged her other foot and triggered feeling deep in her belly.

"Oh my!"

"Yes, breathe it."

His hands moved up her calf. He touched a spot here, another there, pressed lightly into the fat muscle.

"Ooh!"

"It is too much?"

"No, no, not at all. It's just ..."

She didn't want to put it into words. But as his hands moved over her legs they relaxed and became 'charged' at the same time. A conflict; part of her wanted to clamp her thighs together and protect against the sensations bubbling just below her belly button. But another part wanted to spread her knees wide and let those hands touch everything. Again Geoffrey stopped. He stood with his head bowed over her as though listening.

"Angela, I feel you are in conflict. Can you tell me?"

At first she could say nothing. How much could she trust this man? He could have whips and chains hidden in this place. Marcie hadn't said he liked that kind of thing. She hadn't said if sheliked that kind of thing.

"I need to trust you, if ..."

"Yes, this is true. I have tried to show you that I respect you and that I am a man of honor. But, yes, this is our first date and I am touching you in this way. If this is too much, please feel free to say goodnight. This could wait for another time ... or never happen at all."

He waited. Angela checked in with herself. She took a sip of her drink. Nothing in it had knocked her out.

"Geoffrey, you have been a perfect gentleman, even as you seduced me, because, yes ... that is what you have been doing. But I have been your partner in that seduction, and I confess I have enjoyed trying to light your fire. But I don't want to talk any more. You are teaching me and I want to learn. I want the full lesson. So please ... perhaps it is time I opened this robe so you can continue ..."

"That would be good, yes."

Angela pulled back the robe on one side and then the other, her creamy young body surrounded by blue silk. Geoffrey stood and gazed with a small smile.

"Angela. This is very wonderful."

"Thank you."

"I am more than privileged to be invited to touch this most extraordinary skin. I hope I can do it justice."

He moistened his hands with the fragrant oil and moved them up her thighs. She felt the excitement of being fully exposed and yet in a higher relaxed plane. Her muscles melted. As his fingers moved over her hipbones they lifted as though to welcome him.

He ignored her tender bits, though his strong fingers caressed the soft inner thigh next to them. Something inside loosened, tightened, loosened. Her breath was rough for a moment.

"Oooh!"

"Yes, let the sound come through the breath. I need to hear it."

He warmed her belly with his palms in smooth circles. Small animal sounds squeezed from her throat. Inside she was tight and she felt herself lifting her most intimate region so there was no secret that she was becoming warm there, moist there. If she had been alone she would begin to stroke and tease that tender area just south of her curls, but now she hoped that this man with the magic hands would do her the favor.

Her nips needed love though, and with a gesture that masqueraded as modesty, she scrubbed her forearm across one breast, pressing out the tension just a little, while building it at the same time.