In the Moment

Ch. 1 My Makeover

"You should say something to him," Elaine suddenly said out of the blue flashing me a mischievous smile.

"Who?" I asked red faced. She had obviously caught me visually devouring the young waiter as he left our check.

"Liz, don't try and play stupid. Marcos, the waiter, the one you can't take your eyes off of."

"He's half my age!" I gave her the clichéd reply.

"So," Elaine wasn't the type to accept such a lazy excuse.

"So, I can only imagine what he would think at an old lady throwing herself at him like a horny teenager."

"You're not an old lady. You're a beautiful and successful forty year old woman," Elaine boasted loudly.

"Who could be his mother," I said in a whisper trying to remind her to keep her voice down in the crowded restaurant.

"Is that the best excuse you can come up with? Every time he comes over here he can't take his eyes off of you. He's been blatantly flirting with you since we sat down."

"He's just trying to get a bigger tip," I cynically replied trying to temper her enthusiam as well as my own growing appreciation for the points she was making.

"You're hopeless," she finally said in a stinging tone.

"I'm not hopeless, just realistic," I answered back defensively.

"Well, how's that approach working for you? You haven't dated in at least a year."

"Easy," I responded. I can take some tough love, but Elaine was starting to push my limits.

"I'm sorry; I just want to see you happy."

"And hitting on a twenty year old waiter will make me happy."

"I bet he could do more than make you happy," Elaine quipped back smiling again with that wicked look.

"You're insatiable," I laughed back. I choose that moment to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I glanced up at Marco as I passed him and he gave me a bright inviting smile causing me to blush like a school girl once again.

Inside the bathroom I couldn't help but study my reflection in the mirror as I washed my hands. I looked tired. My hair was lifeless, there were small bags under my eyes, and my make up looked exactly like what you would expect make up to look like if you applied it in the car while rushing to make it to work. I was a mess. "What would he want to do with me?" I asked myself dejectedly.

When I emerged Elaine had already paid the bill. As we walked out of the restaurant I felt a hand suddenly touch my shoulder, "Excuse me, Elizabeth," Marco's accented voice called me. I turned to face him shocked that he knew my name. "I am glad you gave me your number. I wanted to ask, but I was not sure that it would be okay for me to do so," he excitedly said as I had the sudden urge to kill my best friend, "I do not have to work on Saturday. Do you want to have dinner?"

I paused for a second before I answered, my brain frozen in shock, "Um, sure," I answered back mindlessly. I must have failed to conceal my bewilderment because Marco gave me a quizzically look as his hazel eyes pierced my own.

"Good, I will call you before then to arrange a time," he responded again with a bright smile revealing his shiny white teeth.

I gave him a half wave goodbye as I turned around to give Elaine a hateful look, which quickly melted away into a joyous smile as she giggled at my embarrassment, "He must have liked the tip I left him," she joked, "You should have known better than to give me your business card."

...............

He called me on Friday, his thick accent just as charming over the phone as it was in person. I learned a little bit about him, he was twenty-three, grew up in a small town near Naples, came to the states as a student when he was eighteen, but decided to drop out of college to pursue career as a chef; a dream he was still striving towards as he worked as a waiter to support himself and save up enough money to pay for culinary school.

Ever word out of his mouth only fueled my crush. And that is what it was, the kind of infatuation I had when I was just a young girl, before my marriage, before my two kids, before my successful legal career, and before the divorce that had convinced me that I would never have those emotions again.

He insisted that I allow him to pick me up. In the seven years since my divorce I had become so jaded about dating that I had previously refused to let any man even know where I lived before we had been out at least a couple of times. But like all foolish young girls I threw caution to the wind and told him where he could pick me up at seven o'clock.

Our dinner together was great. Easily the best meal I had experienced in years. He wanted to know everything about me, my work, my kids, everything. When I told him that I liked to go hiking, he responded that he loved to go hiking. He responded to everything with the same intense passion, there was nothing cynical our skeptical in his expressions, such a strong contrast to the social world in which I was accustomed.

After dinner we walked down the Santa Monica Third Street Promenade holding hands, laughing, and simply enjoying each other's company. I started out self conscious, every glance towards us seemed to contain the same judgment about our age difference, but Marcos didn't seem to mind or even to notice. Not once did he mention the differences in our ages. After a while his indifference spread to me, I even started to realize that it was probably me that read the condemnations in stranger's eyes.

If anything lurked in their stares it was jealousy. Marcos was gorgeous. He had a sculptured face, high model cheekbones and those stunning hazel eyes. He wasn't tall only a couple inches taller than me, but he had an athletic body, whose strength I could feel each time I brushed up against him. His dirty blonde hair was tied back in a short pony tail, the kind of look which I would have mocked if I hadn't been on his arm, but since I was I found it cute, he was the dreamy European man I had always pictured meeting in some cozy, Italian cafe.

He walked me to my door only kissing me briefly on the lips before saying goodnight. He could have easily asked to come in, in fact I wanted him to ask me to come in, but he remained the gentlemen telling me that he had a wonderful time. I said the same, smiling contently as I watched him make his way back to his car from my open door.

The next day he called me at ten in the morning, he obviously didn't intend to play any of the typical games. Since he was the last thing I thought of before I fell asleep and the first thing I thought of when I awoke, I definitely didn't mind the break in dating protocol.

"I had a great time last night," he began in his earnestly sexy voice, "I want to see you as soon as possible. I have to work today and tomorrow, but I am free on Tuesday. Let me cook you dinner. I'll make you something very special."

"Well," I hesitated, a thought reminding me that I usually worked until eight on Tuesday's popped into my head, but just momentarily, "That sounds great," I replied matching his enthusiasm. My rationale side did emerge in convincing him to cook dinner in my spacious kitchen rather than his cramped two bedroom apartment that he shared with three friends.

I took a half day at work so I could prepare for our date. I enjoyed a complete makeover treatment; my hair, nails, and face were all pampered at my favorite spa and salon. I even had a full bikini wax. I was determined to look my best for him, as youthful and vibrant as a cynical forty year old lawyer could manage.

There was no place in my fantasies for a tired, bitter, divorcee. The images that had flashed through my head the two days after our first date were enough to stimulate more than a few self induced orgasms. If he was half as good of a lover as he was in my dreams, it wouldn't matter what he cooked for dinner.

I had a few doubts about how attractive he would find me. I am forty-four years old. But it is not like I haven't stayed fit. I started running long distance when I was in high school, and except for the years when my kids were young I have kept up the habit of jogging. I don't have large breasts, so they only slightly sag, and although the rest of my body isn't perfectly toned I've never been embarrassed to put on a bathing suit. I was anxious about his reaction, since as a good looking young man I'm sure he's had his share of gorgeous young women, but any serious anxiety about his opinion was quelled by the yearning between my thighs.

He arrived at the appointed time on Tuesday. Like I said I wasn't really interested in experiencing his culinary skills, at least not that particular evening, so I tried to get him to make the simplest dish possible. But he was adamant in his desire to provide me with the promised "good meal". So I tried to remain patient, sipping on my glass of red wine as he worked in front of the stove, explaining what he was doing like a proud student.

Despite my impatience I enjoyed being in the kitchen with him. He repeatedly had me test his different dishes, blowing gently on each hot item before slipping into my mouth. Everything tasted great, and the kisses that he gave after each testing were even more delicious. Each kiss became successively longer and more urgent. I held his body against me as my tongue licked the flavors off his lips. I was already wet from being in his presence; it took all of my self restraint not to start tearing off his clothes.

But despite our growing passions- I could feel his cock swollen slightly against my stomach when I squeezed him for a kiss- he stubbornly continued to prepare the meal. The food was actually really good, although my ability to judge was no doubt biased by the hormones racing through my body. The salmon was tender and juicy, the sauce was flavorful without being heavy, and everything else provoked nothing but praise for his culinary skills. His face beamed with each compliment I gave him.

I wasn't sure what to do after dinner. I knew what I wanted to do, but wasn't sure how to go about it. All my experiences since my husband had been so formulaic; I would invite my date inside and we would head directly to the bedroom. Here I wasn't sure if I should offer to watch a movie or watch television. I know now that those thoughts were ridiculous, but at the time I was out of my element.

I rose up to clear the plates of the table, but Marcos immediately jumped out of his seat and told me to sit back down, "Let me clear away the plates for you," he offered gallantly making me feel even more like a princess.

"Don't be silly, I want to help you. You've already done so much," I protested.

"Just sit right there, I am going to bring you your desert," he beamed.

"Dessert? Marcos, you didn't have to," I called to him as he headed towards the kitchen. He said nothing in response, allowing me to admire the firmness of his rear as he walked away. I couldn't wait any longer.

I followed him into the kitchen, creeping behind him as he ran water over the dishes and wrapped my arms around his torso, "I think I'll have my dessert now," I whispered in his ear as he stopped the running water. I reached down and placed my hand on his zipper fly. I could feel his sex expand upon my touch.

He turned around, "You don't want to taste my mousse first?" he joked as his strong hand gripped my rear and squeezed me close to him. We kissed passionately, our tongues lashing out at against one another. I devoured his sensual lips with a hunger that was only fed with each additional kiss. He seized me with his powerful hands and lifted me up onto the kitchen island. His lips found the tender parts of my neck as I closed my eyes and let his hands roam my body.

His nimble fingers unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off my body allowing his mouth to explore the skin of my lower neck and upper breasts. I tugged at his shirt ordering him physically to remove it from his body. He complied with my wish exposing his well-built frame. I ran my hands over his muscular shoulders and taut golden back. I was already losing my breath as he deftly unhooked my bra and revealed my small erect nipples, "Beautiful," he whispered under his breath before enveloping my pointy buds with his warm mouth. His kisses sent shivers up my spine.

"I want you to taste my dessert," he playfully said dipping a finger into the bowl of chocolate mousse then bringing it up to my lips. Lust must have poured from my eyes as I seized his hand and wantonly slid the finger inside my pursed lips, moaning my desire as I slowly slid it out.

"Do you like it?" he mischievously asked

"Delicious," I purred.

"Good, now let me taste," he dabbed a drop of mousse on my left nipple and devoured it with his greedy mouth.

"Delicious?" I asked.

"Splendid," he responded, "I want more."

"So do I," I answered dipping my own finger into the mousse and dabbing it on the tip of his nose before licking it off causing him to laugh. He lifted me off the counter and wrapped my legs around his waist allowing him to carry me up the stairs to my bedroom.

He laid me gently on the bed and then turned on my bedside lamp. Still a little self conscious I flicked it back off, but he immediately turned it back on, "I want to see you," he endeared wiping away the last of my inhibitions.

Once in bed his desire manifested itself ferociously. His hands and lips were everywhere. He whisked off my clothing and his own before I even realized it. His patience disappeared. With me was a young man who answered to nothing but his desire. He spread my legs open and moved between my thighs, but I placed a hand on his chest before he could proceed, "Slow down," I encouraged him with a smile.

He smiled back as if I had awakened him from a trance and kissed me gently on the lips. His mouth trailed down my neck, my breasts, my stomach until his lips were kissing my inner thighs. I was going to tell him that that wasn't what I meant, but my protest was extinguished by the sudden shock of his tongue stabbing into my pussy. I flung my head back and closed my eyes as he explored the softness of my slit. His tongue was relentless as it lapped at the inner walls, causing my sex to bloom. Everything felt electric, his tongue delving deep inside, licking the spots which made my hips gyrate shameless upwards. But he was patient, never staying at one spot too long, igniting fires everywhere he touched.

He already had me panting, but I was still unprepared for the shock of pleasure that accompanied his discovery of my clit. He lightly pressed against it at first easing me into the intensity of the sensation, before artfully flicking his tongue over and around my sensitive bud. He quickly made me cum, an intense explosion of sensations that ravaged through my body. But he did not stop as I moaned and my body rolled with the pleasure, he continued to gently lick and kiss, using a wet finger to delve deeper into my sex. I was his captive lying there enjoying every second of his attention.

Before long I felt the fire build again, this time his finger slid in and out of my pussy as his tongued lavished joy upon my clit. It was too much. I rode the waves of another deep orgasm.

Once partially recovered I placed a hand on his head to get him to rise up. "Did you enjoy it," he asked as he kissed me, my juices still fresh on his lips.

"Delicious," I cooed, "Now I want you to feel the same way." I opened the drawer of the bed stand and extracted a condom from a basket hidden near the back. I gave it to him and watched as he ripped it open and rolled the thin latex over his impressive cock.

He smiled and gave me another deep kiss as he rubbed the swollen head of his sex against my slick slit, "Beautiful," he said again looking straight into my eyes. I kissed him to cover up the emotions that word summoned in me. He entered me with a slow stroke. He proceeded cautiously, languorously pumping in and out. But I wanted to see the same look of pleasure on his face that he gave me so I grinded my hips up against him urging him to let loose his desire.

He understood my body's message speeding up the pace of his thrusts. I studied his face as he enjoyed my flesh, wanting to remember that moment for the rest of my life. And then he came, his face contorted by the pleasure as he exclaimed Italian words I couldn't decipher, yet perfectly understanding their meaning.

We laid in each others arms for the next few minutes, too full of satisfaction to feel the need to say anything, laughing each time we tried to form the phrase to express our emotions.

I left to go to the bathroom and when I returned I found him laying there uncovered, his cock hard as a rock once again.

"Already," I asked in disbelief. It had been so long since I had been with a young man.

"I've just started," he responded with a confident smile on his face.

I sauntered back to bed enjoying the vision of this young man lying naked on my bed. He reached up to pull me down to him, but I pushed his chest back down and straddled him. He smiled as I took control rolling a fresh condom on him before guiding my pussy on to his thick cock. I rode him tirelessly until we both saw stars once again.

My young lover took me one more time that night, and again in the morning, as for the first time in five years I decided to sleep in on a workday. We showered together and he made me breakfast before I had to go, vowing to see him that night after he got off of work.

Everybody at work complimented my new hairdo, telling me it made me look like a whole different person. I laughed each time they mentioned my hair, remaining quiet about the true reason for my transformation.

Ch. 2 My Daughter

It was three months since I welcomed him into my bed, and he was there again between my legs, slick with sweat as he pumped his hard cock in and out of my wet pussy. I gripped the bars of my headboard and moaned his name as he steadily drove me to the great beyond once again, "Marcos, Marcos, you're so fucking good!" the words just flew out of my mouth.

He never said anything in response, just smiling as he watched me lose control, only making his own exclamation in hurried Italian when he exploded inside of me. But I let him know how much pleasure he was giving me, encouraging him to give me more.

My hips started to buck up wildly as I neared climax. My legs were up on his shoulders as he held me partially up and off of the mattress. "I'm almost there baby, I'm right there," I exclaimed.

Suddenly I heard a burst of giggles from outside my bedroom door and I immediately froze as did Marcos. This outburst was followed by the sound of footsteps running down the hallway and descending the staircase.

"Oh my God, who is that," I said in a panicky voice. Marcos misunderstood my panic for fear and immediately jumped out of bed throwing on only his boxers before rushing out the bedroom door and down the stairs, no doubt thinking that he was chasing after an intruder. I tried to stop him, but he was gone before I could collect my thoughts so I hurriedly threw on a robe and followed after him.

Of course I knew who it was once I heard the shriek come from the kitchen. Evidently my daughter had decided to make a surprise visit. When I entered the room Marcos was nervously trying to apologize while my daughter, Justine, was crimson faced. However her friend Lucy was simply trying not to laugh as she stared at Marcos.

"I am sorry, I did not realize. I thought you were a robber," he stammered out.

"Don't, worry about it," Justine responded quietly trying not to look at the half naked man in her kitchen. Marcos finally must have realized what was causing her discomfort because he looked at himself and realized that not only was he standing there in nothing more than his boxers, he was also still partially erect. Red faced he excused himself and left the room.