tagIllustratedForty-nine Candles...

Forty-nine Candles...

byTara_Neale©

I hate birthdays! Don't we all? After a certain age anyway. And I have long since reached that age. It was one of the nines. You know twenty-nine...thirty-nine...oh-my-god-nine. I know people always think that it is the big Oh's that are the problem like thirty and forty. But for me it is always the nines, because I get to thinking 'next year I will be X.' Then I start to thinking about all the things I should have done or been by now. And I try to cram all that shit into one year. Ridiculous! So this time I am playing it cool. No parties. No big celebrations at all. Just another day. That is all it is. Except that my girls have other ideas.

My older one came home from university early claiming that she needed some place quieter to study for exams. My younger daughter of course is always around. She is the center of my universe. Being high-functioning autistic and hyperactive, she demands my constant attention. But that is all right. I don't mind. Really I don't. Except for the fact that it has been over two years since her father and I separated since I got laid.

Usually I don't even think about such things. I have my toys and I use them...regularly. I mean Bob (battery operated boyfriend) is so much more reliable and less demanding than any man, right? It is only on those very rare occasions when I feel the itch for something with a brain of its own inside my cunt. Then I remember that most men don't have a brain of their own. Just being funny. But you know what I mean.

The day started off like any other with the mad rush for school and work. It was the final week so everything was even more chaotic than normal. My older daughter had a hinky smile on her face as we left but I just figured that she was up to something she should not be like Internet porn. She did call out to me as we were leaving that she would pick her sister up from school so I did not need to rush home. My jaw dropped open but you know the old saying about 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth.' I just smiled my gratitude as I pushed her sister out the door.

I only work part-time so I can pick my daughter up from school. So when two o-clock came, I considered staying another couple of hours and getting caught up on things but then I thought...'what the fuck?' I got out of there; not letting anyone know that I was free. Totally free for a couple of hours. With nowhere to be and nowhere to go. It is sad but without my hectic routine I was lost. I had forgotten how to have fun.

Then I remembered the bar down the street from the office. I had gone there once for a bachelorette party for one of the girls at work. I had two probably three hours to kill and nothing better to do. So why not?

The place was empty when I walked in. There was not even anyone behind the bar. I froze just inside the door way. I stood there thinking 'what now?' I realized then just how pathetic my life had become. No girl friends to call up and spend a couple hours with. Hell, I did not even have a new book on my e-reader to sit quietly in the park reading. I must have looked as lost as I felt because just before I turned to leave a voice from the shadows boomed, "Can I help you?"

"I was just looking for a drink. It's my birthday and..." I mumble mindlessly.

He stepped from the shadows and my mouth dropped open once more. He was no boy toy perfect twenty something that you would expect. He had a couple of years on him but damn did he wear them well. Somewhere in his forties would have been my guess. But he was the most delicious way. That George Clooney grey dignity but on the aging body of linebacker. My mouth started to water and it had nothing to do with needing a drink. Well, not the alcoholic kind anyway.

"We are closed until five, sweetie. I'm sorry," he looked sweet himself with that genuine caring expression.

I shrugged, "Thanks. Just my luck."

I turned to go but his voice stopped me. "Did you say it was your birthday?"

I turned back and nodded. He smiled then, one of those big boyish grins that must send all the girls' hearts fluttering. "That's different thing, sugar. What's your poison?" He sat the box that I had not even noticed down on the counter.

"I'm easy," I said without thinking then blushed. "I didn't mean it like that," I stammered. "I meant since you are being so gracious it really doesn't matter. Whatever is easiest for you. I just have some time to kill because my older daughter picked her little sister up after school and..." I was nervously chattering away again. I stopped myself realizing this man had no interest in the screwed up life of a middle-aged single mom. I smiled and tired again, "Anything you make will be fine. Thank you."

He smiled that thousand watt version again as he motioned for me to take a seat at the bar. "You look like one of those sweet, fruity kinds of girls. So how about I try out this new drink I have been working on for you?" He started throwing things in the blender. I did not see what alcohols he put in it but there were several of them. Then loads of fresh fruit, some ice and that sweet red syrup stuff. "So it's your twenty-first birthday is it? Finally old enough to drink so you figured you would try out a bar, did you?" he teased as he worked.

After a couple of minutes of whirring of the engine on the blender that reminded me of my Hitachi and had a different kind of juice flowing, he poured the concoction into one of those big hurricane glasses. He passed it over to me and went to open my handbag to pay him. He put his large hand over mine and more juices went flowing. He shook his head, "No way, sweetheart. It's on the house. A birthday present."

I smiled and took a big sip throw the funny straw with the umbrella. It was wonderful. It tasted like one of those mango, passion fruit smoothie things but then you got the kick. A head rush that had my mouth dropping open again. "Wow!" I said.

"You like?" he asked. I could only nod my head as I sucked on that straw like it was...Well, by that point I had drunk half an inch of the sweet powerful brew and my mind was thinking of some very naughty things that I would rather be sucking. He chuckled as he straightened up behind the already neat counter. "You are the first person to try it. Besides myself of course. But I don't really get into that sweet shit. More a Scotch on the rocks kinda guy myself."

I had made it to a full inch now and was feeling no pain at this pain. No pain, but the pleasure centers in my brain seemed turned on to full blast like the bass in a sleazy nightclub. "It's amazing. What do you call it?" I slurred.

He gave that too sexy chuckle again, "That's the other thing, I need to come up with a catchy name for it that will catch the attention of all these posh twenty-somethings. And I suck at that shit."

I laughed. I might have actually tossed my hair at that point, but I was too drunk to remember. "Easy sleazy pussy pleaser," I teased.

His eyes widened a bit at the sudden change from uptight secretary and single mom to...well whatever I was at that moment. He cleared his throat, "As catchy as that is something a tiny bit less graphic maybe."

I took another sip and looked up at him over the straw. I shrugged my shoulders, "Sorry, pal, that was my best shot."

"Oh I doubt that, sweet thing," he teased as he used a towel to shine a glass.

I looked at the man long and hard as I sucked on the straw. Was it possible? It had been over two years since I got laid. And a lifetime since I did anything as wild and crazy as fucking a total stranger. But it was my forty-ninth birthday. I was the single mother of a special needs child. I worked my ass off for too little money and even less appreciation. Didn't I deserve more? Shouldn't I at least try? I bite my lip as I finished the drink and pushed the glass back towards him.

"Thank you," I purred. "It really was wonderful. I hope you come up with a name soon," I said as I picked up my bag, getting ready to leave the poor man to his work.

He put his hand over mine on the glass. "Want another?"

"You are closed and I don't want to bother you, get you into any trouble with the boss or anything," I stammered like the drunken old fool I was then.

He laughed, "I am the boss, darling. This shit hole is all I have to show for fifty years on this earth. Well, that, a few battle scars and an outrageous alimony bill every month. You would be doing me a favor. Keeping an old Jarhead company for a while. So what you say? Another one?"

Well, what's a girl to do with a sweet invite like that? I sat my pretty little ass right back down on the bar stool (well, actually cellulite covered is more like it but when you that drunk it don't matter none). I nodded my head and whispered, "Yes, please."

We made those funny, ridiculous goo-goo eyes at each other like you do in science class back in high school while he mixed another of those things. "Name's Marco," he said as he pushed another too full glass towards me.

"Tammy," I said as I took a sip. This one was stronger than the last. If that was possible. But I did not care. I was floating then. No responsibilities for a couple of hours. The company of a hot guy, who might just be a little bit interested in my ass. Well, maybe not my ass. A girl can't be too easy. Not on the first date. I laughed at the outrageous line of thoughts racing through my intoxicated brain.

"What?" he asked. I giggled some more. "Come on. That's not fair...laughing at a guy and not even telling him why."

I was drunk then, so drunk that I did not have the good sense to lie even. So I spilled it all. Two years without sex. How hot he was. Even the anal virgin bit. Thinking back I ought to be mortified but I am not. Not with the way it turned out anyway.

"Hot? I ain't been called that in at least a decade, sweetheart. But thank you, Ma'am," it was hard to tell in the dim light but I think he might have blushed. "And I feel your pain. Three for me."

"What? No way!" I protest. "You are way to good looking to go three years without getting laid."

"Yeah, well, I guess I could have gotten laid a couple of times. But I outgrew that wham-bam thank you Ma'am shit in my twenties. That's why I settled down and got married," he explained. "But the long hours that go into this place. Well, I tried the whole Internet dating thing but they was even worse than my ex. Gold diggers, shallow. No, thank you." He looked me up and down, a thorough inspection that left me feeling naked and vulnerable...even fully dressed. "What about you?"

"No time," I replied as honestly as I could.

He chuckled, "You got time now and you in here with me drinking. Why you ain't out there with some stud getting laid?" he pushed.

"I got Bob," I boast as I drain the bottom of the glass.

"So is Bob getting as boring as Rosy?" he asked as he took my glass away.

I was so drunk that the old joke flew right over me. "Rosy? Wait I thought you said you hadn't fucked in three years?"

He laughed, a great booming barrel one this time that echoed around the room, "Rosy de Palma and her five sisters, sweetheart. My hand? Damn, those things are lethal." He stared at me for a long moment then at the clock on the wall. "What time you supposed to be home to your girls?" he asked.

I had forgotten that in my drunken stupor I had slipped my guts, but thankfully not a drop of my delicious drink. I backed up a second wondering how this man knew about them. I lost my balance and toppled the bar stool. He was sure fast for a big guy. He managed to catch me for I joined the stool crashing to the floor. "Woe there little lady," he said as he wrapped his arms about me and lifted me up.

The guy was tall. Taller than my original estimation. I did not even reach his shoulder. Nothing makes me feel more feminine than being towered over by a man. And it was not just the pit of my tummy that was doing little summer saults. My cunt was leaking seriously now as I stared at a broad expanse of chest and abs that were decent but not that ridiculous washboard crap from the covers of my novels. I always liked my men with just enough cushion for the pushing as the saying goes. And this one was just about perfect.

Especially as my eyes drifted lower and I noticed a distinct bulge in his black slacks. Whether it was two of those amazing no-name drinks or two years without cock or maybe it was the big four-nine finally catching up with me, but whatever the reason, my hand seemed to have bypassed my brain and be making a beeline for the front of his pants.

He grabbed my wrist and turned it over. I looked up into his eyes though I could not tell what color they were exactly in the dim light. "As much as I want to...and trust me I want to," I could tell even in that light that his cheeks flamed a bit, "Obviously I want to. But you are way too drunk."

"I ain't some under-aged kid and I'm not so drunk that I don't know what I'm doing," I argued.

"No, you aren't some silly kid. You're a lady and you deserve a hell of a lot more than a quickie in the back of the car. Or the storeroom." He turned my hand over and kissed my palm. "Let me call you a cab."

I shook my head and looked away as I fought back tears. 'No fool like an old fool,' my grandma used to say. And I had certainly acted like an old fool. I reached for my purse as I mumbled, "It's all right I can take the subway. I ain't that drunk."

He held my purse out to the side, "No, but I am a gentleman. I'd take you home myself but I have too much shit still to get done and the others will be arriving in a few minutes."

I blushed at the idea that I could have attacked this man, stripped his clothes only to be discovered in a compromising position. It was like having a glass of water tossed in my face. It woke me...real quick. "Of course," I mumbled.

He shook his head, "No, damn it. Not like that. Fuck."

Before I knew what was happening he had drawn my body fully against his. My eyes widened at the feel of his hard cock pressed against me and for a moment hope arose anew in me. I opened my mouth to ask if he had changed his mind about the storeroom, but the words never made it out. His tongue though did manage to make it in.

The man was a hell of a kisser. Not the couple of quick stabs in order to get on to the main show but an artist. The kind that could make a whole meal of kissing alone. His tongue found all the right spots and a couple I had never even known existed.

I don't know and honestly don't care how long we stood there kissing in that dark, empty bar. It could have been simply the most erotic minute of my life or it could have been an hour. Either way, it was hands down the best kiss of my life. When he drew back, I was hoping reluctantly, we were both breathless.

We stood there, our bodies perfectly aligned for a long moment. I could still feel the solid length of his cock pressed through all those layers of clothes against my lower abdomen. It was not where I wanted it at that moment.

He lifted my face to stare up at him, "Not here. Not now. Not drunk. And not rushing like this. When I make love to you, it will be in my bed. Just the two of us. And all the fucking time in the world to taste and explore you."

He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. His own lingered softly as if not wanting to break the spell. "But today I am calling a cabbie friend of mine to get you home to your daughters safely." He pulled a chair out from a table and sat me down in it. He went behind the bar once more and picked up his cell phone. He spoke in low tones to a guy for a moment. Then he filled a glass with ice and poured orange juice over it.

I guess the alcohol was beginning to wear off because all I could think about was how desperate I must look to this man. Old, worn out and desperate. I swore that nothing would get me back in that bar. Ever again. I stared at the floor and fought back tears. Now was no time to cry. But I was still drunk enough that the silly song 'It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to' kept popping into my head.

Then his hand and that glass of juice filled my blurry vision. "Drink this. Jake will be here in a couple of minutes. He was just around the corner."

I nodded and took the glass uncertain what to say. It reminded me of those awkward moments you had after a horrid first date. When all you want is out of there. But you have to get through the fare wells and that dreaded good night kiss. Although his kisses could never be anything to dread.

He seemed to not know what to say either as he knelt there just watching me drink the juice. He walked back over to bar after a moment of discomfort. He seemed to be scribbling something but I could not tell because I was doing all I could not to let him know that I was watching him out of the corner of my eye.

I finished the orange juice like a good girl my Nana would have said. And he came back with my purse. He placed his large hand around my elbow. It brushed the side of my breast and we both inhaled sharply at the sensation. He guided me through the dark bar even though I no longer felt that drunk.

But I was really glad for his hand on my arm steading me when we walked into the late afternoon sunshine. My eyes watered and I was blinded for an instant. But he kept us moving ahead until I felt the solid cold metal of the car against my back.

I looked down at my purse in my hand as I mumbled, "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this I promise. I feel so stupid..."

His finger brushed my cheek softly and I leaned into the caress, closing my eyes and hoping that when I opened them it would all be a nightmare. Except the feel of those soft lips on mine was anything but a nightmare...more like a dream. A wet one at that.

He used only his lips this time but the effect was just as devastating as before. I was breathless. My nipples were rock hard. And my panties were damp by the time he drew back slowly.

He opened the door and helped me into the car. He leaned over and handed something to the driver. "Take good care of this one, understand?"

The other man that was probably a good decade maybe two younger than we were, saluted and replies, "Yes, Sir," as he drove off.

I gave him my home address, well a couple of doors down actually. I had started to sober up real quick by then. The cabbie tried to make small talk but my responses were simple 'yes,' 'no,' or shake of my head until he finally gave up and concentrated on the rush hour traffic.

I was almost completely sober by the time that we got home. I was also fighting back tears at how stupidly I had acted. Throwing myself at a man I did not even know. I was too old for this shit. I would have reamed my daughter a new one if she did something so silly and here I was doing it...at my age.

I opened my purse to get money for the man. I saw it straight away. A bunched up napkin. 'Please call' and a number, signed Marco in big letters. I smiled as I wadded it up. I grabbed my wallet and asked, "How much do I owe you?" even as I regretted the extravagance that I could not afford.

"Nothing. Marco took care of everything, lady." He opened his door and came around to open mine. "I'm to see you to the door."

I panicked a bit at the lie that I had been caught in. But the truth was that I did not want this man, or the other, knowing which building was mine. I shook my head, "No, that won't be necessary."

"He says it is and I follow orders, especially his," the man seemed determined.

I was thankful that my phone chose that exact moment to ring. It was my daughter. "When will you be home?"

"I am just walking up now, sweetie," I said as I walked away in the opposite direction. "Let me in when I ring please. My keys are at the bottom of my purse as always." I walked a couple of buildings down. I had a friend there that I knew would let me in.

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byTara_Neale© 8 comments/ 226506 views/ 4 favorites

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