Rum and Co-cah Co-lah

Rufus grabbed her left tit. As he kneaded it, he yelped several times. Drool slid from his maw, onto her neck. She felt his spasms in her tunnel.

To her relief and regret, he pulled out as soon as he was spent.

He got his legs out from between hers, and flopped beside her.

Maybe five labored breaths later, he turned his head to her and said, "Can we hug some more?"

"Oh hell yes!" she said, trying hard not to think of him as a keeper.

He kept his trunk well away from hers, because of his condom's cargo. But he exchanged tongue kisses with her, and fondly fondled her bosom. For Allison, it wasn't the same as what she'd felt during the fuck, but it was a good follow-on. And cuddling didn't kill him.

Her shoulder bag hadn't been equipped specifically for overnight and morning after. Yet from its contents, combined with what Fair Winds provided in the bathroom, she got by.

***

Rhonda decided that a polo shirt over a comfortable bra, and bermudas, would work as golf wear. She also chose a visor, thinking this would withstand the breeze better than her sun hat. Allison arrived in time to echo these choices.

The subjects of what her daughter had done all night, and how she felt about it, were set aside, in part because a masked staffer arrived with the COVID testing cart. Allison showed the staffer her phone, indicating that she had already been tested elsewhere that morning.

When they were alone, Allison said, "I saw a bearded guy at a high-top, ogling you. Is he the one you're prepping for?"

Rhonda said only, "Yes."

With a smile and a wink, Allison said, "I'd trust him as far as I could throw him."

"You're a fine one to talk," Rhonda returned, smirking. "Coming home in your swimsuit."

"Better than without it. I don't think this place is clothing-optional."

Rhonda took a closer look at her daughter. Allie appeared a bit wrung out, but her good spirits seemed to go beyond her wisecracking. "I've worried that I'd regret suggesting this trip," said Rhonda. "But you seem happy."

"So far so good," said Allison. "And you can't be blamed. I'm the one who picked out this meet market."

Rhonda gave her an affectionate hug, and a mock-dire "We'll talk later, young lady."

Allison nonetheless said, "This morning, there was just a kiss good-bye. If this was a walk of shame, I seem to have forgotten about the shame part. Today I'll text him, to prove that I don't ghost. Then we'll spend the day out of our hair. I want to use this place, swim and body-surf, and maybe spend too much for access to the tennis court. I should be able to talk to people now without coming across as sex-starved. If Rufus bangs some skinny bitch, it's none of my business."

Rhonda's eyes widened. "Rufus?"

"We'll talk later. Go play golf."

***

Despite the tee time reserved by Geoff, they had to wait at the crowded course, both beforehand and between holes. Rhonda didn't mind, because it gave them time to talk, in snippets, when they were effectively alone. Rhonda also had the chance to get used to the small bag of rented clubs, and to coordinate her hands and eyes, practicing on the putting green.

Geoff said, "I'd like to learn about you, if you're willing."

She eyed him, searching for insincerity in his smoothness. "You look like someone who has all the answers, or thinks so. Do you already have me figured out?"

That chased away his smile. "I won't make assumptions about you."

She thought, But you make them about everyone else?

"Why don't you go first," she said, "since I don't have any answers about you."

"All right," he said. "I'm fifty-nine. I live in Hartford, Connecticut. I was married, once, for five years. My wife and I parted amicably. My side of this is that she was more interested in success, material wealth, than I was. I do all right, there's always demand for cookbook design and photography, which has carried over to the internet. But I've always been more passionate about enjoying life than bankrolling it. I've had other relationships through the years, all very good, and most ending with us remaining friends."

He gave her a more direct look. "I don't expect you to take my word on this. I'm on various social media, and so are my exes."

She asked, "And you spend time here, because you don't seek long-term commitment?" This wasn't actually important to her, but she hoped it would reveal a crack in his armor.

"That's certainly true," he said, "and if you're seeking that, I won't waste your time."

Relieved by his candor, she chortled and said, "We've only played two holes. I wouldn't walk out on you yet."

He let loose the resonating laugh she'd heard from him last night. She started to like it. This worried her.

"Well, now you're entitled to learn about me," she said. "You may have guessed that I'm a widow. My husband of thirty-one years died seven years ago. We met at work. Like so many factories in Ohio, ours made auto parts. Tail-lights, mostly. I was a secretary, he was an assistant sales manager.

"In the early 1980s, there were a few small computers, but most of the work I did was typing, shorthand dictation, taking calls, and filing. There were eleven of us women, in a big open room. Men from other offices would drop in, because most of us were young and single. Even the married men acted like, um, what used to be called, skirt-chasers.

"Hugh, though, was very shy, and nice. He usually came over to talk when there was a coffee break, so I wasn't busy with work. He was hefty, and wore glasses, and I could tell that he didn't think he could compete with the good-looking, fast-talking men. He asked me out to a movie, and when we went he was a perfect gentleman, maybe because he was afraid of offending me. Anyway, we had a few more dates like that, and I let him kiss me goodnight when he dropped me off at my parents' house, where I was still living. I decided that he was probably the best, and safest, prospect I'd ever have. When he proposed, I said yes."

"And your thirty-one years were happy?" asked Geoff.

She noted that he remembered the number. He listens. Maybe too much? "Yes."

Her tee shot on the fourth hole surprised her with both physical and competitive satisfaction. She had shaken off some rust. Muscle memory from high school came to the fore. Her head stayed still to keep the ball in view, her arms coordinated precisely on the backswing, they were joined by her back and twisting trunk on the downswing, the address of the ball was a crisp clink, and the follow-through maintained the smooth arc as the club head moved above and behind her. Delighted by this supple exertion, Rhonda was rewarded with a high loft and a soft landing on the green, ninety yards away.

"Excellent!" cried Geoff from somewhere behind her. Only then did she remember his presence.

She turned to him, laughing, and they high-fived. She thought his smile was brighter now, as if he was thrilled by her happiness.

From this point on, Rhonda rode a wave of energy. Her putting was as canny as her iron strokes were solid. With her sharpened attention, she assessed Geoff physically, now that she believed she understood his personality. Though he was wide and not very tall, he was well-coordinated. The deep chest and broad shoulders suggested strength (as did the calves revealed below his bermudas), but he employed it appropriately for the task at hand. Her recently revived aesthetic interest in men's bodies was piqued.

As she and Geoff progressed through the course, part of Rhonda's mind followed another track. She hoped that Allison could find someone for the long term. Her daughter had so much life ahead of her, and an eight-year-old to raise.

Rhonda's wedding as a virgin didn't darken her view of other mating practices. She had grown up well aware of hippies, the women's movement, and cohabitation. She had friends who lived with lovers without marrying them, and she saw that it seemed to work well for many of them. So, despite initial misgivings about Allison's choice of Fair Winds, Rhonda had agreed to it, and tacitly also to unmarried sex. Rhonda hoped that it would start Allison on the way to finding a person who could be, as it was said these days, a life partner.

But for herself...Rhonda had no desire to replace Hugh. She didn't think it was possible. She remained skittish about what she wanted, but now admitted silently that she did want it.

After she and Geoff returned their clubs, Rhonda put a hand on one of his and said, "You have my permission...um...to continue wasting my time."

***

Allison had carefully worded her text to Rufus:

<<Have a great day! See you around.>>

She made a point not to ask about when they might get together again, for resort activities or the 'dance card.'

Dressed for a walk on the nature trail, she received this from him as she was about to leave the room:

<<You too. Join me tomorrow for snorkeling?>>

She grinned at how the time lag in a texted 'conversation' could make careful thought seem like spontaneity. Nonetheless, she noted that he'd found a way to suggest their next contact, while not attempting to use up all of her time. She sent back:

<<Yeah, sounds like fun!>>

While on the trail, though, she wondered about how they'd spend this day of separation. This place was all about casual hookups. Would he, in fact, try to bed someone else?

Would she?

The trail was mostly lined with palm trees and sea oats, but here and there were planted stands of tropical flowers, like frangipani and hibiscus. Flying insects did their duty among them.

Was flitting from one flower to the next, at a single-mingling resort, cheating? How much loyalty did one owe to a flower that one had never seen, until a brief encounter that just ended?

This stayed in her head through a return to her swimsuit and a long, amusing splash-around at the beach, where a chalkboard assured her that there was neither undertow nor man-o-wars. Having spent so much of her life wary of Lake Erie, Allison delighted in being able to enjoy a large body of water. If I see some guy flopping around like this, having fun trying to body surf, will we bond at once and jump in the sack?

That didn't happen. Everyone either sunbathed, waded in search of shells, or swam diligently.

She was a bit disappointed.

The pleasant feeling of getting tossed around by the waves made her wonder about what she'd felt the night before. It couldn't have been an orgasm. But why did it feel so great, and why did I feel this morning like I'd had one, contented like a cat on a radiator?

She reminded herself that she'd entrusted her body to Dale for twelve years. In that time, had she missed out on the discovery of new female pleasures? Something involving oxytocin? Or were all those alleged ecstasies just internet insanity?

The sky was mostly overcast, so it came as a surprise when the sun burst through, well to the west. Thinking that her sunscreen might have worn away, she left the water and returned to the suite.

Her mother was sitting on the balcony.

Allison joined her, saying, "This can be the later when we talk."

And so they caught up. Rhonda expressed concern, that Rufus didn't seem to communicate well. Allison expressed concern, hearing that her mother's golf partner was going to buy her dinner in the resort's fancy restaurant.

"He likes doing that sort of thing for women," said Rhonda. "Some men his age once made a point of lighting the lady's cigarette or opening the car door for her. It's what you'd think of as sexist, I suppose."

"No kidding," said Allison glumly.

"In his case, I think it's because he really doesn't care much about money. He thinks it should be used for enjoying life." Rhonda gave a small, bashful smile. "And I think he knows that I've already decided to, um, sleep with him, so he's not buying my affection."

For a moment, Allison's mouth was a tight line. Then she eased up enough to say, "I did say that we needed to get you going. But, Mom, are you sure you can trust this guy?"

"Allie, on two occasions since your father died, I've met men who wanted me to invest the insurance money in something. They both acted like they had amorous interest in me. I found out then that I know a snake-oil peddler when I see one. Geoff is certainly trying to sell himself to me, in a Casanova sort of way, but I believe he has a good heart."

"And you'll be okay when he flits to the next flower?"

Rhonda took a moment, then said, "I'll be okay when I leave him behind and go home."

Allison finally got herself to see Rhonda as more than the married woman who helped provide a stable, if sometimes judgmental, upbringing. "I guess that's what ought to happen."

***

Still tasting both swordfish and her single glass of wine, Rhonda was far less sure of herself when Geoff ushered her into his suite.

How can I take charge, she thought, when I've only had sex with one man, in my entire life?

"Can we just sit together for a while?" she asked, already short of breath.

"Certainly," said Geoff. He held out an arm in the direction of a loveseat.

Rhonda sat on one side. Geoff took the other, facing her to the extent possible, but not making contact.

"You've had...romantic experience," said Rhonda. "So this sort of thing may be routine for you. I feel...um...I have no idea what would happen." A thought arose, and made her look into his eyes. "You're older than my husband was when he died. I can't help wondering if I should have saved him, somehow. Now I'm worried about what might happen to you. Because of me."

Geoff chortled. "I assure you, Rhonda, I'm in good health. I've never smoked. I have a few conditions, including high blood pressure, but my doctor is confident that my medication has it under control."

"That's good," said Rhonda, relieved that this man was willing to hear and follow a doctor's advice.

"I come to places like this for more than the chance to meet women," he said. "It's also to get a break from everything in my normal life. Same work, same city, same pastimes."

"You're still living the way you have been, all along," she said. "I need to learn what my life is, now. After..."

She took a breath. "I promise you, whatever I learn, I won't insist that you attach your life to mine. And..."

She realized that she didn't need this talk to continue. Now she felt calm. And eager.

The gynecologist called Rhonda's condition 'post-menopausal zest.' Rhonda's change of life arrived two years after Hugh's death, and at first Rhonda couldn't understand it. She even resented it. The gynecologist, however, encouraged Rhonda to enjoy it, because so many women suffered the opposite after the change: reduced libido, vaginal dryness, pain during sex. Her friends lamented that what they did with their husbands, once a delight, was now a tiresome chore. Rhonda stayed mum when hearing that. She didn't think she was better off than they were, because she no longer had a husband to share this surprising benefit.

Now, Rhonda smiled at Geoff and said, "I think I'm ready to do what we came here for."

This smile of his seemed gentle. He set his arm along the back of the loveseat and stroked the hair above her ear with his fingertips.

Zest bloomed, speeding her heartbeat. She thought, Am I really ready?

Calmly, efficiently, she considered, and decided.

She leaned in and kissed him.

He undressed her deftly, again showing that while he might be very strong, he exerted himself properly for each action. He also seemed to show...respect? consideration?...for a woman's intimate garments.

They stood to undrape their lower halves. Unbuckling his belt, she was amused that, at an oceanfront resort, tonight he'd worn long pants with a knife-edge crease.

They started for the bedroom, with him taking her hand. The feel of cooled, dehumidified air on her bare body gave her a shiver. Perhaps noticing, Geoff pulled back the covers as he escorted her into his bed. She saw that he did indeed have a paunch, and fleshiness overall. He seemed content about that.

He pulled the covers around them for their embrace and kiss. His beard was long enough to brush her skin without abrading it.

At first, her torso and legs couldn't relax. He continued to kiss and hug calmly, and gradually her body molded to his.

She didn't flinch when she felt what prodded her belly.

He asked, "May I kiss you intimately?"

"Yes," she whispered, worried about her cleanliness. Then, realizing how warm she was now, she said, "And I don't need the blanket anymore."

He tossed away the covers, exposing their bodies to moonlight over the gulf.

What she felt wasn't just his saliva, his tongue, his lips. She was getting slick inside. Yes, like with Hugh, but also recently, when she had been by herself. When she had taken herself all the way. Feeling silly, even as she rode waves of pleasure.

Quickly she was at the brink, her clitoris responding much more strongly to a mouth than to her fingers. I can't let that happen...climaxing...while a man does this to me! she thought frantically. I never did with Hugh. I waited for him to go inside.

"Enough, please," she gasped, pushing his head gently. "I, I can do that for you, if you like. For a little while."

Even in the dim light, she thought his smile was indulgent, even patronizing. "I'd be delighted," he said, moving to lie on his back.

She chose to approach him from the side, roughly prone, one elbow between his legs, the other arm across his trunk. This spared her the sight of his rump, while giving her a closer look at his phallus. As she picked it up, it felt sturdy but flexible. Longer than Hugh's, not as thick? she wondered, based on the feel in her hand. Would that even make a difference now?

She held it upright and wet-kissed the tip. She took in some of the shaft, enclosing it with her lips, swirling the glans with her tongue.

She heard him murmur, "Very nice."

She moved her hand down to the base, and sent fingers through hair to fondle his testicles. Her mouth advanced a bit more, bringing in perhaps two thirds of the shaft.

His breathing became audible, and quickened. The tube in her mouth was now rigid.

She opened wide and lifted her head. "I can, um, take you now, if you like," she said with a tremble.

After a breathy chortle he said, "How would you like it? Position, I mean."

"Oh. Um. You on top."

This was the moment when she would finally learn about her body. I, I've, thrown myself, at a man I just met! That was because he lived far away from her and nobody back home knew him. Even if neighbors didn't care what That Widow got up to in private, it was the only way Rhonda could get through this.

Test the zest, she told herself.

On her back, legs spread, she felt she was somehow in control. The man approached, as if he were a supplicant, presenting a gift, seeking her approval.

The latex-sheathed penis, which went now where only Hugh's had ever been, was a welcome visitor. She was damp and warm and tingly. Her vaginal muscles felt fine as the phallus went in, and gave her surprising thrills when it drew back. She was supple and sleek, feeling inside as she had outside when her golf stroke clicked. This felt so very, very good, and right.

She swiveled as Geoff advanced and withdrew, and that got from him a moan. I'm happy about this, she thought. This man, he's doing what he wants. What we both want.

Maybe Allie's right, respectability may not mean what I once thought it did.

He doesn't have to love me, and I'm sure he won't.

And, Hugh, I still love you. You alone.

His kisses felt nice, and she returned them as best she could. His hand on her breast created more tingling, to match that around her pelvis. Is this who I am now, not yet sixty? A sweet, harmless grandmother who takes sex partners? I want to say 'yes.' Can I?