The OPALS Club Ch. 01

I paced around my home all day thinking about the OPALS Club social that evening at one of the wine bars downtown. I'd pick out an outfit to wear, and then change my mind: too staid, too sexy, not memorable, too memorable, too short, too blue, too red, or too old. In the end, I wore some glossy black spike heels, grey pleated skirt that tended to show off my butt rather nicely, a silk blouse that was thin enough to display the lacy brassiere underneath, and a colorful scarf. I had a small decorator shoulder purse that had my wallet and cell phone in it.

I kept pacing thinking about everything Megan had told me about 'The Club.' I took the utmost care of my body preparations with a shower, moisturizer, delicate perfume, shaving and trimming critical areas, my hairdo, and makeup. I munched on a sandwich around dinnertime, however, I was nervous and not all that hungry. I would have had a glass of wine to calm down, except I knew I'd be drinking at the wine bar so I didn't want to use up my alcohol limit before I got there.

Megan picked me up at seven-thirty. She looked gorgeous, just as I expected. We chatted about what I might expect as we drove downtown. She promised to route some of the handsome and nice guys in my direction. I explained I really needed two glasses of wine to calm down.

Megan left me in a corner near the entry door of the wine bar where this week's social gathering was being held to go get us glasses of wine. I wrote my name on a 'Visitor' nametag. Over eighty people jammed into the place -- a nearly even mix of men and women. The din of happy conversation filled the long room. I couldn't help but notice the eclectic crowd. Everybody did look so friendly and inviting, and neat and attractive just as Megan predicted.

The voice from my side surprised me, "Hi. I see by your nametag you're a guest. I'm Bill Matthews. Nice to meet you Penny Ryder."

I looked up into the most handsome tanned face I'd ever seen outside the movies, with a pair of steel blue eyes that I knew were undressing me with every second that passed. This man had a smile with the whitest teeth, and luscious lips. He stood about six-two, and wore a pure white pullover shirt, beneath a dress jacket with a western cut, and tight jeans. From my angle beside him, I could tell he had a tight butt. He wore loafers without socks, a dress style I thought sexy in a man.

I was momentarily speechless, but I smiled coyly. Megan arrived just at that instant and thrust a glass of Chardonnay into my hand. She wrapped her free arm around Bill's neck and the pair engaged in a truly sexy kiss right in front of me. As she pulled away, Megan said, "I see you met Penny. She is such a sweetheart, and I want her to join us. I think she'd be such a beautiful addition, as you can tell. She's also smart, witty, and ... well, sexy." I blushed.

Bill looked at me -- probably at what he'd now rendered as my nude body that he was about to plunder -- and said to Megan with a manly smile, "I'd just introduced myself when you arrived."

Megan winked at me, "Well, I'll let you two get friendly. I want to talk to Greg and Collette. Be back in a few." She turned and flew away.

Quickly, Bill turned back to me. I could tell I had his total attention. He wasn't distracted by anything else in the room. I momentarily felt awed by him. I finally put my hand out and said, "Bill Matthews, it's a real pleasure to meet you. I take it, you and Megan know each other well."

Bill laughed. "You could say that. We've dated a few times. Our social goals are compatible, so we feel comfortable around each other and about dating each other."

I got a puzzled look, "Social goals are compatible?"

"Well, we both want to hook up with someone of the opposite sex without the messy entanglements of a burgeoning romantic relationship, so when we dated we clicked right away. I think we have each other on speed dial." He grinned in a knowing way.

"Oh. Are some people here for the romance?"

Bill now glanced around the room. He politely directed my gaze to a couple seated at a table in another corner. "See the couple there -- he's in the red sweater and she has a blue top."

I nodded.

"They're in love. They joined for love, and they've found it. They were both widows, lonely, horny, and we helped them find each other. I bet they'll be engaged within a few months and married by year's end. They'll still belong, though. In my opinion, it'd be ashamed to lose Edy as an eligible date. Jay is sought after too."

"You talk as though you know Edy well."

"Errr, well, we've dated a few times, even while she was getting serious about Jay."

"Were you always single or are you now?"

"Yes, I'm single now. I got divorced about twenty years ago. I'm still on good terms with my Ex, Carol." He looked around, and waved at a pretty brunette leaning against the bar with a handsome man beside her. "That's her over there -- the woman with the green scarf. We date and continue a loving relationship; we just couldn't stand to live together. The chemistry between us gets crazy when we're together longer than twenty-four hours, so we keep it short and sweet and loving without adding back in the luggage that broke us apart."

I asked, "And it doesn't bother you to see the woman that was the love of your life for a while go off and date someone else, apparently with some surety that they'll make love?"

"Oh, no. Not a bit. I've even made introductions of men I think she'd enjoy both as company and as sex partners. I know her tastes and kinks, so I can steer strong candidates she might like in her direction."

"No jealousy."

"Not a bit. I'm hoping she'll have a fabulous date or dates with the guy, and, pardon my language, but that they'll fuck the living daylights out of each other in a never ending cascade of climaxes and orgasms that light up the night sky that make them both very happy."

"Wow. You sure tell it like it is." I laughed at Bill's candid and lurid statement.

"Jealousy is a learned response dealing with possession, exclusion, competition, ego, and fear. You can unlearn it. Most jealousy is ego based, or operates under the illusion that I own you in some way -- you're my possession, as though Carol, by ex, would have to get my permission to date someone. If you can get control of your ego, you don't need to respond with anger or malice or sadness. The opposite is called compersion; it's when I empathize with Carol and her date when they're feeling happiness and joy, thus I feel it too, even when they're having a deep, loving, and sexual relationship."

"Were you always this way?" I guessed I sounded skeptical.

"No. I learned this philosophy and life style in this group when I joined about eight years ago." Bill gestured to the people around him in the wine bar. "We all subscribe to this, more or less. There's a lot more to it than what I just said. The truth is I struggle every now and then, but overall I've got it down now."

"Is it written down?"

"There are a few books that talk about it. Two I specifically recall areThe Ethical Slut andPolyamory: The New Love Without Limits.

I postured, "But isn't polyamory and that kind of philosophy for kids in their twenties and thirties? Aren't we supposed to be beyond this?" Even as I said the words, I knew they were tapes I'd been programmed to repeat in this situation, and this was not really something I knew for a fact or even believed.

Bill responded, "To the contrary. I think the older you get, the more important it is to adopt a life style of compersion and open loving relationships. Think about it, by our age, over fifty-five, we've learned how to manage our egos and not let them sink us. We understand relationships and are much more tolerant about each other's weaknesses and foibles. We've all lived with others for a good long time, and weathered through all that. We understand that we can't 'own' another individual, any more than we can own a rainbow. Our fear of abandonment is gone, we're all self-assured, and mostly living alone and comfortable in our own life without the expectation that someone else has to make us happy. If we aren't around someone we love but they're having fun, our nose no longer gets out of joint -- in fact, we're glad for them. I admit you need to consciously extend your thinking when it comes to sex, because we've been so programmed with society's expectations around this subject."

Bill thought for a moment and added; "I also think that our age and experience come into play in another way. We no longer need to beat around the bush for a dozen dates before we enjoy one another sexually or romantically. Some days I feel I'm living on borrowed time -- oh, I'm healthy and all, but the number of birthdays I've had is getting big -- so I find I indulge myself in my fantasies and life style. I don't put off things; I may never get to enjoy them otherwise.

"You're very convincing, particularly about compersion -- I like that word."

"I guess this was what I'd been looking for in my life. When we were married, Carol and I tried to own and control each other; we expected the other person to make us happy. We were jealous of each other, for instance when she went out with her friends and I was excluded, I'd get my nose out of joint. I felt I had to compete for her attention with the people she worked with, a silly response looking back on it, and I was always afraid she'd meet someone better than me and run off -- my own insecurity."

"You? Insecure?" I chuckled.

"Yeah, I was back then. I became macho man -- obnoxious actually. I was a control freak, trying to control things and people well outside the realm of reality. Eventually, I changed, but I was too late to save my marriage."

"I'm sorry; at least, you seem happy now."

"Oh, I am. Very, actually. I own my own happiness. I don't expect others to do it for me." Bill paused, and then asked, "Tell me about you. Widow?"

"Yes. My husband Garth died about seven years ago from heart attack. He was ten years older, and apparently had a heart condition we didn't know about. We'd been married about thirty years. We have two daughters up north in Illinois -- outside Chicago."

"Any grandkids. I forgot to mention that Carol and I have two kids and two grandkids. I won't bore you with all the pictures in my wallet until we know each other better." He laughed.

I laughed too. "No. Both are married, but they and their husbands are all about getting established, and careers, and houses, and early marriage stuff. I sort of wish my younger daughter could have heard you talking just now. I see her trying to control everything around her, and I think she's cruisin' for a bruisin'."

"Well, you can suggest those books to them. When I'm home I'll look at my bookshelf and see what else I've read that might be helpful. I'm a reader, but I usually can't remember titles or authors two days after I finish a book."

"All non-fiction?"

"Oh, no. I've just discovered all the action books by Harlan Coben. I'm readingThe Innocent by him right now."

Two other handsome older men joined us: Walt Netty and Tom Grunberg. Bill introduced us to each other, and soon we were off talking about books, best sellers, and a host of other topics. These men made it so easy to hold up my end of the conversation.

As we did our pleasantries with each other and initiated idle chat, I realized I was evaluating each man as a sex partner and lover. Where did this come from? I think I blushed at the impure thoughts coursing through my mind. Shit, I even caught myself glancing down at each man's 'package.' I never did this. I'd met hundreds of men since Garth died in all sorts of situations -- a few dates, work, merchants, and so on -- yet I'd never caught myself checking them out this way. This must be Megan's doing; I couldn't possibly blame myself for these thoughts.

But then again, since adolescence sex had been a major part of my thinking. Garth and I had an active sex life right up until his death. We were frequently making out, kissing, and screwing, sometimes most nights even as I approached fifty. Garth was vital and horny. I missed him dearly.

Megan flew by our group about a half-hour after I'd started talking to Bill and thrust another Chardonnay into my hands. I barely thanked her before she was off again. Walt and Tom seemed to know her well, and laughed at her 'fly by' antics.

Gradually, the men pulled me from the corner, and started to introduce me to some of the other men and women in the group. Suddenly, I had to become a social butterfly, with lots of small talk about myself. My natural interest in others came forward, and I felt I was asking good questions of the people I met.

But damn, I was still evaluating the men -- and even some of the women -- as sex partners. I wondered if I had been seduced by the fact that, to me, everyone in the room was handsome (men) or beautiful (women), and I knew many of them had hooked up (fucked) in some way in the past. The whole idea of the Club cast an erotic glow over everyone. I wondered if people viewed me the same way. Did I look like a desirable sex partner? Were there guys here that wanted to fuck the daylights out of me? I secretly hoped so.

I'd never thought of another woman in a sexual way, yet when I met Ellen -- a stunning svelte red head with a curvy figure -- I found myself wondering what it would be like to suck on her breasts and to finger her pussy, or to have her doing similar things to me. Shit, where were these thoughts coming from? I had no interest in a sapphic relationship. I wasn't even bisexual ... or was I? Damn, there was Megan putting an idea in my head that stuck in some way.

About nine-thirty, some of the crowd started to thin out. I noticed when people left, they did tend to leave as a couple. Bill Matthews found his way back to me from another clique of people he'd been in for a while.

Bill leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Do you like to dance?"

I turned to him and smiled broadly, "I love to dance."

"Then would you come with me right now? Let's start our first date." He flashed me a megawatt smile, and made my pussy drip with his steely blue eyes.

I thought for a minute, numbed by his sudden question. "I didn't drive." I thought that was about the dumbest thing to say about one microsecond after the words were out of my mouth. What relevance did that have to things? I was stalling. Did I want to go with him? Would he expect something I wasn't prepared to give?

I looked up at Bill and studied his kind face. His steel blue eyes searched me for reservations and acceptance. I wondered what it would be like to stare into those eyes as we made love. Was his invitation really an invitation to his bed? Did I want to have sex with him? In prior years, I might have stalled for a half-dozen dates, but now I thought of his words earlier about indulging our impulses at this age while we still had what it takes to savor things. I also thought about why I came to this wine bar with Megan and was entertaining the idea of joining the OPALS Club -- the acronym spelled out the humorous fact that everyone in the room wanted sex in some way, and my being here proved I was one of them.

Bill assured me, "I'll see you get home safe and sound whenever you want. I promise I'll be your idea of an ideal date."

I smiled my acceptance at him, "Let me tell Megan we're going. I'll be right back."

I cut through the crowd and found Megan had latched onto the arm of a cute looking man about an inch shorter than she was in her 'fuck me' heels. He didn't seem to mind. I got a quick introduction to Gary somebody.

"Meg, Bill Matthews asked me to go dancing with him."

"Oh, Penny, go! He's so nice. Go with the flow with him. He'll make you feel so special and so loved. Go dance. Go home with him." She leaned into my ear, "He's an expert lover; fuck his brains out. Call me when you get home tomorrow." After another pause she added, "I think I'm going to get laid tonight too." She gave me a lecherous grin and glanced over at the man she'd been talking to; he was looking at a TV set over the bar where a baseball game was ending.

I looked shocked at the idea of sex right away, but the thought of a sexual liaison with Bill Matthews had been on my mind when I locked onto his beautiful steely eyes the first time. I felt this internal conflict start to tear my insides apart, yet it felt so good to have those feelings again.

As I sashayed back to Bill with a little extra sway to my hips, I thought about a sexual liaison with this handsome man. I hadn't had sex for seven years and some. God, I felt like a virgin again. Was I ready to give up my reclaimed virginity to this mature hunky man.

I briefly wondered if my vagina would take some sudden loving, but then I felt the squishy feeling of my ardor in my pussy area and figured I was good to go. I had to admit I was horny, and I'd been horny for a long time. Now, thanks to Megan, I could do something about it.

As I came up to Bill, I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. I said, "Let's go. I even have my dancing shoes on."

It was about ten o'clock by the time we got to the Five O'Clock Club. Bill swept into the jazz bar like he owned the place, found us a table, and soon I had another glass of wine in front of me. As soon as we were served, Bill took me in his arms and we joined a half-dozen other couples on the small dance floor as the jazz trio played a nice slow number.

I nuzzled into Bill for the slow dance, and he kissed me right there on the dance floor in front of everybody else in the place, but when I looked around no one seemed to be paying any particular attention to us. The next time, a second later, I kissed back, and I could feel a flush of erotic excitement spread through my body starting deep inside me and emanating outward. I thought how much fun it was to kiss a handsome man, but fun totally understated what I was feeling. My whole body was 'alive' for the first time in years.

We nursed our glasses of wine and savored our dances together. The more we danced, the closer I came to just grinding my pussy against Bill's leg and whispering some really nasty thoughts into his ear as I stroked the back of his neck in a sexy way.

After an hour, Bill settled up the tab, and we walked out to where he'd parked his car -- a twenty-year-old Porsche in mint condition. Bill held the door for me, and helped me get into the low-slung car. I know my legs went on display for him, but at this point I didn't care, I wanted him to see every inch of my body and to ravish me.

Bill got in and started driving. He looked over and said, "Where do you live? I can take you home if you wish."

Without looking into those seductive eyes, I said, "I don't wish that -- to go home, that is. Why don't you show me where you live?"

Fifteen minutes later, I stood dancing with Bill again in his living room. Well, not exactly dancing. We were pressed against each other's bodies and our tongues were doing the dancing. We were French kissing. I'd forgotten what soul kisses were like -- how arousing and sexual they were, and how I could feel my reaction to those kisses in my pussy. My pussy gushed with each kiss. Oh, why had I denied myself this priceless experience for over seven years?

I took the initiative to move us to the next level. I started to unbutton his shirt as we danced. I kissed each area of exposed skin, as I became able to pull his shirt aside and see the salt and pepper hair that populated his chest. Between those kisses, I came back to Bill's beautiful mouth; his ardor increased through his kisses. His kisses moved to my ear -- one of my most sensitive erogenous zones, and then my neck, and then down the skin that my blouse allowed to show.