The Old Man

"No, I'll take care of everything."

"Uh...where do you live?"

"It's three blocks from here, on Avon. 116 is the apartment number. The bell doesn't work, so knock when you get there. I'll have everything ready about six."

Dinner was fun for Vicky. About the only thing she remembered liking about her marriage to Ricky was sitting down with him to eat a dinner she'd cooked. Those dinners, the first ones anyway, made her feel good about herself, and when Ricky said the food was good, she felt even better.

She fixed a pot roast with carrots and potatoes, and creamed peas. She also made a chocolate cake with "Come Back Soon" written in white icing over the chocolate.

Vicky added a little water to the pot roast to keep it from drying out, and then went to change for dinner. She picked out her newest dress pants, thought for a second, and then hung them back in her closet. After she slipped the black dress on and looked in the mirror, she knew she'd made the right decision.

It had been forever since she'd worn stockings, so she didn't have any except a black pair she'd worn only once. Vicky pulled them on, smoothed them out, and looked in the mirror again.

"Maybe you are hot, girl, at least just a little."

The only pair of high heels she owned weren't all that high, but Vicky put them on, then went into her bathroom, brushed her hair, and put on the same makeup she wore to work. At six on the nose, she heard a knock on her front door.

Bryce was wearing a white shirt, just as washed out as all the other's she'd seen him in, and his paisley tie had a few splotches. He grinned when she let him in.

"I figured if I was meeting a beautiful, hot woman for dinner, I oughta dress up a little. I guess I should have dressed up more. You're gorgeous."

Vicky was certain she blushed all the way down to the vee in the dress that exposed the swell of her breasts.

"No, I'm just me."

He chuckled.

"Well, it's been a while since I saw a "just me" who looks so hot."

Vicky smiled.

"Thank you, Bryce. I still don't think I'm hot, but a woman likes to be told she looks nice. Now, everything's ready. Come on in and let's eat."

Everything seemed to be perfect, or at least Bryce thought it was. He raved about the taste of the meat with every bite, and had a second helping of her creamed peas.

"My mother used to make peas like this for Christmas dinner. Those were the good old days. An apple and an orange in my stocking on Christmas morning, and ham and creamed peas for dinner. I miss that at Christmas time."

Vicky found herself saying what she was thinking again, and blushed after she'd said it.

"I'll make you ham and creamed peas for Christmas this year then."

Bryce smiled.

"Vicky, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Well, I mean I will if you want me to. If you need to be with your family, I'll understand."

"I don't really have any family left. When you get to be my age, It seems like there are fewer people you know every year. It happens first with family, but your friends start to go too. If you fixed me Christmas dinner, I'd be the happiest man in the world because I wouldn't be alone."

Vicky started to tear up when she heard that, and stood up to get the cake so Bryce wouldn't see.

"I baked a cake for dessert. Want some now, or would you rather wait a while?"

Bryce rubbed his stomach.

"I think I'd better wait a while. That pot roast was so good I couldn't stop eating."

"I'll just clear the table then. Would you like some coffee?"

Bryce said he would, so Vicky started the coffee maker and then picked up their plates and silverware. She thought about washing them to have something to do, but then realized that would mean ignoring Bryce. She needed something to do because of what she was thinking.

Bryce caused such a mix of emotions in her. She felt sorry for him because of his worn out clothes, but was pulled to him by his charm. Yes, she thought, even though he usually teases me about being hot or wishing he was younger, he doesn't do that like most men would. Other men would have seemed crude. Bryce was a gentleman.

She'd realized after a month of that teasing that she liked it, liked the idea that Bryce thought she was sexy and desirable. She hadn't thought of herself as sexy and desirable for ages. What she saw in her mirror was a woman aging past her prime. Bryce had changed all that. Vicky still didn't think she was all that sexy, but it didn't matter as long as Bryce did.

The first time she'd thought of being with him shocked her. It was one Sunday morning when she woke up, and in that half-asleep, half-awake state that was normal for her, she wondered what would happen if Bryce was in bed with her. Would he just grab at her like Ricky had?

No, he wouldn't, Vicky decided, and cupped her left breast. No, Bryce would do something like this, gently stroke her breasts until her nipples were rigid and crying for attention. Even then, he'd be gentle, just lightly stroking them until she felt herself becoming damp between her thighs.

Vicky had touched the full lips between her thighs then and found she was responding to her thoughts. She slipped a fingertip between her lips and stroked up. Yes, Bryce would do that, and he'd keep doing it until she whispered that she wanted him inside her. He'd kneel between her upraised thighs and...

The orgasm caused Vicky to gasp and then cry out, something she almost never did when she stimulated herself. As she lay there panting, she told herself it would never happen because Bryce would never want her that way. All his teasing had been just that -- teasing.

While Vicky covered the pan with the pot roast with aluminum foil, she thought about that morning and the other mornings that had been the same way. It was foolish, she thought, to be thinking about sex with a man as old as Bryce. If anyone knew, they'd think she was crazy.

The thought of his hands on her came back then and she glanced at Bryce. His hands weren't the hands of an old man, covered with age spots. They were the hands of a man much younger, hands that she wanted, no, needed to feel on her body.

The good Vicky in her mind was telling her she was crazy for even thinking about wanting something like that. The other Vicky was telling her to do what she wanted, even if it was crazy. "If you don't, you'll always wish you had", the voice told her.

Vicky poured two cups of coffee and carried them to the table. Bryce grinned after he took a sip.

"Mmmm...that's good coffee, and it's hot like I like it, just like you."

The thought just popped out of Vicky's mouth before she could stop it.

"If I'm that hot, and I'm not saying I am, what would you do about it?"

Bryce raised his eyebrows.

"Well...that would depend."

"Depend on what?"

"It would depend upon if you really want to find out."

Vicky put the carafe back in the coffee maker, took a deep breath, and walked back to the table.

"What if I said I do want to find out?"

Bryce stood up, put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"Vicky, are you sure about this?"

"Yes, if you really want me."

"You aren't just feeling sorry for me because I'm old?"

Vicky put her arms around his neck.

"You don't act old. I don't care anyway."

Vicky lay beside Bryce on her bed, naked, as he gently stroked her side and them moved his hand up to her round breast. She shivered as his fingers caressed the soft, yielding mound, then caught her breath when he stroked her nipple. When he lightly rubbed the side, Vicky closed her eyes and let the sensations take her away.

His every touch kindled little sparks of desire that soon had her wanting more. She reached for him, found his chest and stroked it. His body seemed toned and fit for a man so old, almost as toned and fit as Ricky had been. She stroked her hand down his flat belly until she felt coarse hair.

As she moved her hand lower, so did Bryce. His fingertips were very gentle as he separated the strands of hair that covered her lips, and more gentle yet when he stroked the separation between them. Vicky closed her hand around his cock when that finger slipped between her lips.

She sighed as that fingertip caressed her inner lips, inner lips wet and slippery with arousal that she'd not felt in years. Even when she stroked herself, she wasn't so wet. Her hand began stroking his shaft, and she felt it growing harder.

His mouth on her left nipple made Vicky moan, and she moaned again when he found her entrance and eased his finger inside her. The finger began stroking in and out, and Vicky began to breathe deep breaths. She gasped when she felt his lips pinching her right nipple, and again when he curled his finger up towards her tummy. She felt wetter after that, and moaned loudly when Bryce slipped a second finger inside her passage.

His cock was swollen thick and mostly hard as she stroked it. Vicky ran a fingertip around the head and Bryce groaned. She felt his thumb move beside her clit and rub gently. Her hips rocked involuntarily at his touch, then again as he began to gently stroke the skin of her hood.

Vicky was coasting on the edge of an orgasm a few minutes later. She touched the hand between her spread thighs and whispered, "I want you now."

She spread her thighs wide as Bryce knelt between them then pushed his cock at her entrance. It bent and slipped away. Vicky whispered, "let me help", and reached between them. She found his cock, moved it around until the head was at her entrance and then pulled gently. Bryce moved his hips forward as Vicky guided his cock inside her. When she felt his belly against her mound, Vicky put her arms on his back and pulled him down.

It had been a long time since Vicky had felt a man's cock inside her, and it had never felt like this. Ricky always rammed his cock in fast and hard until he groaned and spurted. Bryce was slow and gentle, and his mouth on her nipples were exciting her nearly as much as his cock. She began to stroke his back as the tension in her body began to build.

That tension started as a warmth that spread through her body, then became a flood of sensations that made her pull at his back and rock her hips into his strokes, then became the need for release that racked her body with contractions. Bryce groaned as Vicky's body squeezed his cock, and began stroking faster. Moments later, Vicky cried out, dug her nails into his back and arched into him. Bryce pushed his cock deep inside her, and Vicky felt it throb as he spurted inside her.

She pulled Bryce down on top of her when she'd stopped shaking, and nestled her face between his neck and shoulder.

"Thank you", she whispered.

Bryce whispered back.

"Don't thank me Vicky. Just remember me."

The next afternoon, Vicky went to work. She knew Bryce would't be in for his scotch and that made her sad. She was going to miss his teasing until he came back from whatever it was he had to do. She knew that when he did come back, she'd make dinner for him to welcome him home, and after that dinner, they'd make love again, just like they had the night before. That made her happy, happy enough she didn't miss him quite so much.

For the next three weeks, Vicky thought about Bryce every day at three thirty, and then again on Sundays. When she lay in bed on Sunday night, her thoughts would turn to that wonderful night before he had to leave. Her hands and fingers didn't feel the same as his had, but if she closed her eyes, she could remember that feeling and it was almost as good.

On the Friday of the fourth week Bryce had been gone, Vicky was wiping down the bar when a man walked in. He was tall, handsome, and wore a suit and tie. He walked up to the bar and when Vicky asked him what she could get for him, he smiled.

"I'm Michael Borders, and I need to speak to Vicky Masters. Would she be in today?"

"I'm Vicky. How can I help you?"

He smiled again.

"I need you to come with me. Bryce said you would."

"Bryce. Is he back?"

"I'll explain everything if you'll come with me."

"I don't know if the manager will let me. I'm the only bartender he has."

"Is he in?"

"Yes, in his office."

Michael grinned.

"That would be the door with 'office' painted on it."

His smile was infectious, and Vicky grinned back.

"That would be it."

Michael walked to the door, knocked and then opened it without waiting and closed the door behind him. Five minutes later, he walked back out and back to the bar.

"Your manager has agreed you should come with me. Do you need to bring anything?"

Michael opened the door for her as they left the bar. Vicky was more than a little confused. Harry always made a big deal about her leaving for any reason, much less just because some guy in a suit wanted her to. She got more confused when she walked out onto the street.

A black limousine was parked in front of the bar, and the young driver stood beside the rear door. As soon as he saw Michael, he opened the door. Michael took Vicky gently by the arm and steered her toward that open door.

"This is our ride. I hope you'll be comfortable."

Vicky felt really out of place as she sat down on the leather seat cushion. Michael looked as if he belonged in a car like this. Her jeans and knit top didn't. The driver closed the door, then walked around the limousine, got in, and started the engine. He turned to Michael.

"The main office, Mike?"

"That's right, Jimmy."

The limousine stopped in front of a building in an office park on the edge of town where Vicky had never ventured. Across the front were big letters that said "B&L Corporation". The driver got out, and seconds later the rear door opened. Michael smiled at her.

"We're here. Just follow me."

As Vicky walked up the pink granite steps, she saw people coming and going from the door to the building. Each one had an identification badge hanging from a strap or clipped to a front pocket. She looked at Michael. He didn't have one.

When she got closer, she could see the guard at the door. As each person entered, the guard looked at the badge they offered and then nodded. The person would then swipe the badge beside the door and it would open.

Michael didn't walk to that door. He walked to another door on the other side of the guard station. Vicky saw him wave to the guard, and the guard smiled. A second later, there was a buzzing sound, and Michael opened the door and held it for her.

The elevator took them to the fourth floor, and Vicky was amazed by the sight when the doors opened. Everything was deep pile carpet and wood paneling. Even the desk where the young female receptionist sat was wood that was polished until it gleamed. She was still looking around when Michael touched her arm.

"This way, Vicky."

The conference room was huge and in the center was a polished walnut conference table with black leather cushioned chairs around it. Michael pulled out a chair on one corner.

"Have a seat Vicky."

Michael picked up a briefcase from the credenza against the wall and then took the chair beside Vicky but at the end of the table. He opened the case, took out an envelope, and handed it to Vicky.

"Bryce wanted you to read this before we do anything else."

Vicky's hands were shaking as she lifted the unsealed flap of the envelope. She removed the single sheet of folded paper inside, then unfolded it and began to read.

My dearest Vicky,

If you're reading this, I know Mike is sitting beside you. He'll answer all your questions and help you in any way you need.

He's with you because I cannot be. All my life I've been fortunate in everything, but the inevitable must happen to us all. Please know I was thinking of you when the time came, because I will be. It will make going easier.

I will not waste time telling you the details. If you want to know them, Mike will do so. He has promised to be with me at the end, so he will know.

Vicky looked up at Michael with tears in her eyes. He handed her a folded white handkerchief as he nodded.

"Yes, Bryce is gone."

"When?"

"A week ago. The doctors say it was his heart, and that it was very quick and he felt no pain. I was there, and he just went to sleep and then stopped breathing."

"Did he know it was going to happen?"

"Yes. He'd had some problems about six months ago and went to Mayo to find out why. They gave him six months unless he got a transplant. Bryce said he was too old to steal a life from someone who had so much of their life ahead.

Vicky sobbed.

"Why didn't he tell me?"

Michael patted Vicky on the shoulder.

"If you keep reading, Bryce will tell you why."

It was hard to read since she was crying, but Vicky tried.

I'm just a truck driver who got lucky, Vicky. I was lucky to be driving for a company owned by a very successful man. I was luckier to meet his daughter, and luckier still when we fell in love. Her father could have stood between us, but he didn't. We were married and started a life together.

Her parents passed on two years after that, and since Lacy was their only child, the business became hers. She was an expert at keeping the books, but didn't know much about trucking. Between us, we grew the company from ten to a hundred trucks. In between we had some great times.

It was unfortunate that those great times didn't include children. I suppose success comes at a price, and the price we paid was my lack of what was needed to father a child. No artificial means were available back then, so we resigned ourselves to just being us.

I paid a second price four years later, one that nearly killed me. I lost Lacy to a car accident. A part of me went into the ground with her, and it took me a lot of years to find it again.

When she was alive, we often spent a Saturday night at a little bar down the street from our house. That's the bar you know as "The Lacy Club". The owner decided to sell it, and I thought if I owned it, I'd have something more to remember Lacy by. I bought the place and named it for her. I still own it, or rather, my corporation does. I dropped by that first day just to remember her. Instead, I met you.

Like you, I could never trust my judgement after I lost Lacy. When you have money, it's very hard to tell who really likes you and who is just after some cash. There were a few women after Lacy, but I didn't let any of them get close to me. I wouldn't let anyone else get close to me either. I hired the best people I could find, and than stayed out of the way so I didn't have to deal with anybody.

That's why I dressed as I did. I didn't trust you to not be one of those women who would do or say anything if it meant they could get their hands in my pocket.

I never told you, but you look a little like I remember Lacy. She had brown hair like you do, and you have her beautiful eyes. Once I got to know you, I realized you also had Lacy's strong will and the need to please people. I couldn't just tell you about me, not after I'd convinced you I was an old man without much in the world. I kept wearing my old clothes and tried to think of a way to tell you about the real me and that I'd fallen in love with you.

I hope you won't be uncomfortable when I say that, but I don't know any other way to say what I felt for you. I didn't want to. You're so young and have so much ahead of you, and I was so old. I didn't want to ruin your life.

I knew you felt something for me. I just didn't know if it was that you felt sorry for me or if it was something real. You convinced me that night after dinner that your feelings were real. If I hadn't known what I did about the future, I would have told you everything and asked you to marry me. People would have thought the worst, but I'd have known the truth and that's all that would have mattered to me. I didn't ask you that night because it would not have been fair to make you a widow so soon after you were a bride.