"Dawn" of a New Era for an Author

This a romantic story of a senior citizen who is an author on Literotica, and meets a very attractive, young women, quite by accident, and how their relationship grows.

Hey, I can dream can’t I? You probably wouldn’t have my stories on here, if I did not.

Despite the way I wrote it, this story is fiction...really FICTION. But not everything. I use my Lit. ‘handle’, and the background about me and why I write is mostly true. My Lit. stories and their characters are true as well. But my ID is not. Gotta’ protect the innocent...even if I am not...as my wife would kill me (you know that is a phrase of speech, right?).

Lastly, the lovely young woman in this story is someone I actually did see, and did, indeed, delight in watching. However, I have never seen her again. So, if you happen to be reading this and recognize yourself; Thank you.

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“Dawn” of a New Era for an Author

I looked at my margarita. Okay, I had nearly two-thirds of the salt left on the rim, with about half the margarita gone. No running out of salt this time. Half the drink would at least last me until my fajita order arrived.

The outdoor party bar at the Sandalwood restaurant had perimeter seating around it in a rectangular pattern, with the server stations dominating both ends. Water misters did a nice job of keeping the 108°F Arizona heat at a reasonable level at 7 PM. However, one of the bartenders was getting my heat level rising, as she reminded me so much of a young Nancy Sinatra, with big eyes, enhanced with makeup, a similar smile, and all on a lovely face with narrow features.

Yeah, I am old enough to remember Nancy Sinatra, when she released “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’.” And even “Summer Wine”, and “Bang Bang.” The modern music the bar was playing was nothing that I recognized, though their music selection had a good beat.

That beat thumped out loud enough to make conversation difficult for my aging ears, so I often had to ask my ‘Nancy’ bartender to repeat what she had said. That I got to see those large, hazel eyes for a while longer was just a coincidence, you know.

I haven’t followed current music trends. I really have to stop listening to 60’s/70’s retro stations and get up to date, now that I am single again. In my 60’s, and “POOF”, my wife leaves me.

Yes, I have heard it before: How could I be caught so unaware? Well, I had thought about it a lot, and I do mean A LOT, and still I had could not come up with a trail of clues that I should have recognized would lead to the end of a 20+ year relationship.

Frankly, I think she - and she was Sharon - was almost as much blindsided by wanting to leave me, as I was to find out Sharon was leaving. In her typical fashion, when she told me, it was a done deal. No discussion, little explanation, just a jumble of emotions that she was irrevocably forced to act upon.

She left me nearly everything, except half the cash and equities, and two days later she was gone, with four suitcases stuffed, and taxing the Uber driver’s Prius to inhale. Sharon left it for me to file for divorce. She said she would let me know where she was. She didn’t say it would take a year for her to tell me where that was.

When she finally did let me know where, it was in Key West, Florida. The picture she included was of her at Fantasy Fest, fully nude in body paint that took its theme from Superwoman. Sharon never told me who the man in the picture was, dressed as a Viking with a tiny sheepskin loin cloth.

And that was two years ago. The couple of times that I had written to her, asking for some perspective on why we were no more, she had simply replied, “Let it go.” She had always been something of a free spirit, but a very intelligent free spirit, though she never saw the mistake in letting her intelligence be used to twist facts until they supported the first impressions of her intuition. To her, intuition was absolute.

I really had to wonder where this woman had come from, who was clothed only in paint, and partaking in a giant, hedonistic, street party. Actually, it looked like fun, but she had never been that open about her sexuality, and had never shown an interest in anything close to this kind of openness, during our marriage.

And she had never wanted to shave her “personals”, as she called them, and I had never asked her to. Yet, here she was in a photo, with gold stars on painted blue super hero shorts, surrounding her smooth, large, now-blue labia.

Anyway, I did let it go, and she had readily signed the divorce papers. There were no children from our marriage, so the reverberations from our divorce quickly dissipated from the thoughts of family and friends.

I was left with my entire family being my younger brother and our aged parents; the latter were both in a senior care facility for those with mental/memory problems. My brother was just too busy being wrapped up in his role as a successful Chicago business man, with a wife and four kids, to do more than send money for our parents’ support. So, it was left to me to come down from Colorado, usually monthly, to visit with them, and see to the specifics of their care. I guess I could move them to Colorado, but I am hesitant to, as many of what memories they have left, are still tied to the many years they had lived in Arizona.

Being retired makes the travel more manageable. To make life easier, I had purchased a condo down here in the Phoenix metro area, so that I had a base of operations, rather than needing a hotel. It had been furnished with all the furniture my parents no longer needed, and really turned out quite nice, for just a one-bedroom unit.

So, three years into being alone, and nearly two of those officially single, I found myself people watching at a bar, as a pale form of companionship. If asked why I was alone, I always claimed it was research for characters in my stories (for Literotica).

At last, my fajitas arrived. I caught ‘Nancy’s’ lovely eyes and pointed for a second margarita. That narrow ‘Sinatra’ smile confirmed my request.

That is when She arrived with her date. No, not the bartender, nor even my ex-wife, but the “She” that would become such a presence in my life. Not that I had any idea about that at the time.

I was seated at one corner of the bar, and She & her date were seated about 10 feet away, just on the opposite side of the same end of the bar, facing towards me.

My view of them was from mid-chest and up, and I sure liked what I saw of her. Him I had a hard time seeing why She was attracted to him. Many people seem attracted to someone was who has a similar smile, and similar eyes to themselves, if not a similarly shaped face.

These two did not really match that well. She had a lovely face, slightly rounder than some, but big eyes, nice cheekbones, a pert nose, and when I shortly saw her use it, a broad, gleaming smile. Her date’s features were more v-shaped, with small, warm eyes, a stronger nose, and a nice, but tight, smile. If not sitting together, I never would have matched them up.

So, having built my first fajita taco (with corn tortillas, I would point out) and having received my second margarita, delivered with another ‘Sinatra’ smile, I looked around for anyone else to observe. The result was “nada”, nobody nearly as interesting to look at as She was.

She was facing her date, while he sat facing forward, looking at the multiple screens over the bar, which were all set to showing a brutal UFC match. I certainly wasn’t going to being watching the TVs. I had no trouble unobtrusively watching her, as she kept her focus on him, not looking around much. And then she got a lot more interesting.

She was talking away at him and her face had become a festival of delightful expressions. She would open her eyes wide at one moment, frown the next moment, look puzzled, then cheerful, pouty, amused, concerned...you get the idea.

On top of that, sometimes she would emphasize her conversation by dropping a hand onto his forearm, or a hand on his back, or both hands on his bicep, or rested her hand on his leg, and once even ran her hand over his very short hair. She also bounced on her seat occasionally, and a couple times leaned farther over the bar to look back at his face.

She obviously wanted him, and GOD, I wanted to be him. I wanted to be sitting there, facing her, soaking in her wonderful energy, relishing in all the expressions that crossed her face. If I had been sitting there, I would probably have kissed her already, just from my sheer delight of being with this expressive woman.

So, you ask, what did her date do?

Watched the TVs, and occasionally smiled and glanced her way. “Come on, you idiot,“ my brain yelled at him, “pay attention to this rare woman! They don’t grow on trees!“ He never heard what I never, actually, said, and just ate his dinner while he watched the fight on the screens.

My only hope was that he was her boyfriend (neither of them had wedding rings), so that maybe he was very used to her talking a lot, and thus had tuned her out. “Welcome to an early glimpse of marriage, my lady,“ I sighed in my brain.

I will digress from my criticisms of him to give you a further picture of her. She was probably in her mid-20’s, with long, silky hair, in an attractive, natural looking, muted brown. She seemed to be fighting a habit of tucking her hair behind her ear, as she would tuck it back, and then quickly release it, only to repeat the process in a minute or two. Her skin was either nicely tanned with no tan lines, or a natural light shade of the color I associate with Polynesians. Not a golden brown, but more of an ashen tan. From my distance and the lighting, I could not tell the color of her eyes, but they did not contrast strongly with her pupils. She was not busty, but just had nice rounded shapes under a flowing, silky pale green fabric, with spaghetti straps and no sleeves.

And all this is what he was nearly ignoring!

I had finished my fajitas and was sipping the last of my second margarita, when the fight show on the TV’s ended. As I sipped the last of my drink, my bartender came around to ask if I wanted another. I declined, and enjoyed watching ‘Nancy’s’ slim figure walk away to get my bill. As I turned back to look at my new obsession, I saw She was glancing my way, but her look quickly went back to her date. I really had to wonder what She saw in him.

Then something startled me. They both pulled out their cell phones. I had been watching them for nearly 45 minutes, and not once had She pulled out her cell phone, before now.

Damn, I wanted to meet her!

Of course, I knew I had nothing that would appeal to her; being over 60, gray-white thinning hair, overweight and not that active. At least I am 6’ tall, so I should be taller than her.

I resigned myself to returning to my empty condo, and paid my bill. Just before I got up off of my stool, the couple got up, and he headed for the exit, with her about five feet behind him. Another ‘zero’ for him on the gentleman’s rating scale.

That view of her leaving gave me another surprise. I had guessed She would be about 5’6” or so from what I had seen above the bar top. However, that silky top of hers was actually a fairly short dress, and shit, did She have beautiful, long legs. I am not usually a leg man, but hers were spectacular. I revised my estimate to 5’9” as I watched her erect, slim frame smoothly glide to the exit, with her long hair lightly blowing around behind her.

Okay, I knew what I was going to being thinking about for the rest of the evening. And tomorrow...maybe even next week.

Seems they had hailed on Uber ride with their phones, as I passed them getting into the back of yet another Prius, while I was walking to my 2009 Audi A6 Avant (wagon) in the parking lot. It was Sharon’s old car that I had brought from Colorado.

Surely, She was out of my league, and my age group, but She still gave me hope that there are women out there that can capture my attention so fully, just from watching them. She had shown no signs of shyness (something I successfully fight, but have not fully conquered), nor any signs of being self-obsessed, or haughty.

Frankly, I thought She was one of the sexiest women that I had seen in a long time: It was as much the display of her personality as it was her physical appearance. I was smitten, but resigned to her being a delightful, youthful memory for an old man.

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It was a couple days later, and I was out doing a few shopping errands for my parents’ needs, near their senior care home. I was out of my car, and using the shopping center’s crosswalk to cross to the stores. I was ogling the handsome Ford Mustang GT Fastback, in the pretty retro Dark Highland Green, that had stopped to let me cross. I wanted to hear the V8 engine’s rumble as it pulled away, so I turned to listen.

I glanced at the driver, and as you have guessed already, it was my obsession from the bar. She looked my way for a moment, her face having a slightly puzzled look, with a small grin. Then She was gone.

It was a tempting thought to run back to my Audi, and chase her down, but common sense prevailed. That, and the fact that my dumbfounded body wouldn’t move, stopped me. I hope my mouth was not gaping open. I did see her AZ license plate number, though I had no intention of using it to track her down.

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The next day, I was scheduled to head back to Colorado on Southwest airlines, and I had booked Super Shuttle to take me to the airport in the afternoon. As I had the condo all closed up, the Audi covered, and was waiting to get picked up, I let my thoughts drift to my return in three weeks. I wondered if there could be any hope that fate would allow me a chance to view her again, just to feed my fascination with her.

On the flight back (I always get a window seat), the sun was setting, so the Colorado mountains were casting many long shadows, and in some of the darkened mountain valleys, there were even yard lights lit at the rural homes. After I had received my cocktail, paid for with the free coupon Southwest had mailed me, my mind drifted into fantasy land.

I had cheerful thoughts of what it would be like if She was next to me, leaning on me, looking out the window. I could imagine all the expressions that would cross her face as she chatted about what she saw below and about all the things in Colorado I had told her that I would show her. Also in my fantasy, I was half my age (but knew everything I know now), slimmer, fitter...you know...more appealing.

My mind cleared enough for me to take a sip of my drink, and the gentleman in me kicked in, with the thought, “No, it wouldn’t be like that...you would have given her the window seat.”

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The three weeks back in Colorado had passed with a little more sense of loneliness than usual. I was uncovering the Audi, after which I would store the cover & lock in the condo’s storage closet, and then go see my parent’s. I had a nice time with them. Nice being relative when your parents think your face is familiar, but do not remember who you are, or even that they are married.

After I pulled out of the parking lot, I was stopped at a red light, a couple blocks away, next to the hospital. When I heard a horn honk behind me, I dragged my attention back to see a green light, and quickly pulled away. But my mind was barely on my driving, as I had just seen a green Mustang, with her license plate, backed into a parking space on the perimeter of the hospital’s parking lot.

Even if it was her boyfriend, I hoped everyone she knew was okay in the hospital. I fought the impulse to go back and park, just to watch her when she finally went to her car. “No“ the better half of my brain said, “That is too close to being a stalker, and we are not going to let the gentleman, that we try to be, sink towards being creepy.“

Sitting at a local bistro that evening after my dinner, I sipped at the remains of my drink wishing the gods would stop teasing me, and just hand her to me on the proverbial “silver platter”.

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The following day, I was back at the same shopping center where I had seen her before (but I was actually there to shop, not to hunt for her). I pulled up to a four-way stop in the parking lot, trying to decide which store I needed to go to next, and thus which way I needed to turn. The only car of note was a Honda crossover that was still approaching from the street entrance, so I decided to go straight ahead.

My mind reeled from the sudden impact, the loud “whump” and the bang of the airbags, and the varied sounds of broken ‘whatevers’ falling. The Honda had run the stop sign and broadsided me right into the driver’s door, and I was pinched almost into place. Flooded with adrenaline, I still told myself to remain calm, make sure the ignition was off, and try to get out the passenger side of the car. It was a battle between hyped up nerves and brain cells, all trying to listen to a brain that was fighting to focus on being rational, and not panic.

As I worked to squeeze my almost trapped left leg out from between the steering wheel, the seat, and the crushed door, the adrenaline started to subside. My left side started to warn me that there was going be pain forthcoming soon. People were opening the other doors. I looked up to see what was likely the Honda’s driver standing next to her vehicle’s open door, crying and she appeared to be pleading into her cell phone.

I just about had my knee free when I heard the siren getting close, and then heard it suddenly stop. I didn’t think I needed any medical assistance, but the EMT’s insisted. On the ride to the hospital, I was told to expect that I would at least be in for a few days for observation, if nothing was broken or damaged.

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The EMT’s were right, and two days later I was lying in my hospital bed, trying to shift around to make my sore shoulder, ribs, hip, and knee more comfortable. The side airbags of the Audi had protected me from damaging injuries.

All the staff had been very nice, and I was expected to be released to go home late tomorrow, if I passed the mobility tests. They were also kind enough to loan me a wall charger for my iPhone, which had, luckily, been in my right shirt pocket, and survived the crash intact.

I passed the time reading stories on Literotica and checking how the voting was going on my latest story. My story was entered in the Summer Lovin’ Contest, and the voting score was surprisingly high. I wondered if I could possibly win the contest, as it was only the fifth story I had ever written.

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The next morning, I had eaten my breakfast, and was once again pleased that the food was better than expected, as all the food had been. Thankfully, I had never been forced into a gelatin and chicken broth diet.

As I rested on my right side, I heard the door open behind me, and a rich female voice said, “Mr. Hayes”

I slowly turned onto my back, as she continued, “I am Dawn from Physical Therapy. I am her to test...” I heard the pause just before I saw her face. “...my stalker!” she concluded in a chirp.

My stunned brain fumbled for words, while I realized I now knew that She/Dawn had a lovely voice, and deep blue eyes. And her face looked rather elegant, with her long hair bunched under a clip on the back of her head.

“Stalker?!” I almost squeaked.

A small smile grew on her face. “Well, no, not a stalker, I guess. Would admirer be appropriate?”

I cleared my throat, and thought to use the deeper range of my voice to contrast with the prior squeak. “Admirer is highly accurate,” I confirmed.