BIRTHDAY:

The day, supposedly a special day, but hardly that for the grim mood that Wendy Barton was in, began uncharacteristically. After her early shower, and her semi-ritual of using body cream to help her feel fresh, she was passing through her bedroom and noticed the mirror. It was full length and she and the mirror were normally 'friends'. She used it to make sure that she was turned out in exactly the manner that she always wanted but today it was as though the mirror was leering, almost sniggering at her.

She shook her head and told herself to 'get a grip' and that 'a mere birthday should never have this kind of effect on a person'. Wendy knew immediately that the words fell on pretty deaf ears in her case. She stepped up to the mirror to challenge it and looked at herself. There were things that impressed her mind right away: her body still glistened just a bit from the cream that she'd used on it, and also, she noticed how much she looked like her sainted mother, gone these many years.

Her reverie with the mirror didn't end there. She allowed herself a full course of fault finding and wrinkle searching. She thought that her rather full breasts, 38c, didn't really sag very much at all. That was encouraging. She also noticed, however, that there was some extra weight around the hips. She still liked the swell of her butt and didn't see it falling very much at all. Her legs were still proportional, slender and fine, no ugly lines, and she thought that the contrast between her pale skin -- Wendy was not a random tanner by any means -- and the dark curl of her pubic hair was maybe 'alluring'. She'd put the 'maybe' in there on purpose, for Wendy didn't feel alluring, all of the evidence to the contrary.

She knew what she knew. Her grandma had died of a stroke at the age of 49. Yes, she was always what was considered 'frail' but there it was. Her own Momma had died when Wendy was a mere 30 at the age of 50. Of course, it was an auto accident, which took both her Mom and Dad but it was still at this cursed age! The year 50 sat on her that day like a grinning kind of harpy bird, and seemed to mock her every attempt, in front of that damn mirror, to find herself still fair looking and attractive.

And 'yes', the 'attractive' issue was only for her. Wendy wasn't a romantic woman; at least that's what she told herself, and she meant it. She had had some beaus, they were called in those days, when she was younger but discovered early enough that those beaus were buzzing around her because of her Daddy's money, which she stood to inherit eventually. It stunned her and she purposefully closed that 'romantic' door then and there. She turned her attention, and her talents to being her Dad's right hand gal in the business, and had grown into that kind of trust, which he placed in her.

So, there it was. She was 50 years old today; she was successful; even the sniggering mirror told her that she was still attractive, her Momma's girl that way; she was well off; she liked her job and chosen life style but she was, damn it 50 years old that day! That was the beginning and the end of it right there.

She shook her head and took the duvet from the bed and in a gesture of disgust threw it over the mirror, as though to shut up the damn thing's bad attitude. She strode to her walk in and began to assemble her clothes for the day.

There were times, when Wendy would do a further assessment in front of that mirror, when she was dressed in her panties but today she wouldn't give the damn thing the satisfaction of even looking. She dressed without further dealings with the thing.

Her mood surrounded her at the office. Her 'gal Friday', May, recognized it.

"Big day blues?" she said softly.

"Yes, honey," Wendy said, "And I apologize in advance for being snappish with you; it's only me, and not anything else. But I want to tell you and let you make it plain around here, the significance of this day is off the table! It's a Friday and that's all that it is. No greetings, no wishes, no cards, no little gifts or anything of the sort. I realize that it's almost like a personal temper tantrum but it is mine today and I want it respected."

May nodded her head. She would, in fact, she decided, get that word around the place: to tread lightly with the boss who was in a very bad humor today and do not, do not mention her birthday.

May and Wendy were close and had talked as the 'big day' approached, and May knew about Wendy's skittishness about turning 50 that day, and what she thought about the age, based on her family history especially. It made her shake her head because she thought that, even at her present age, even at 50, Wendy Barton was a stunner. A mature woman, enjoying the blossoming and blooming of that kind of age, Wendy Barton was overlooked but she was a beauty, for anyone with a head on straight enough to see beauty for what it was: the glory of such middle aged women. But those were private thoughts. Today it would be business, only business.

"Here are the production reports for this month and the manifests for shipments," May said. "They look good, Boss."

"Good," Wendy said, "Maybe that'll cheer me up!"

She shook her head ruefully and May went around the desk and kissed Wendy on the head, before simply leaving and going back to work.

"Thank you, honey," Wendy said to May, as she left the office to go to her own.

As soon as she got back to her own office, May began calling the department heads to tell them to tread lightly about the birthday, which just about everyone knew about.

AN UNWANTED WISH AND AN APOLOGY:

Of course, it was inevitable! Someone would find a dupe and pass on the wrong information. And, yes, it happened. The poor 'dupe' in this case was the new guy in accounting, Ryan Whalen, whose department supervisor told him that today was the big boss' birthday and it would be nice if Ryan, new and all, could get on the right foot with the boss by going and wishing her a happy birthday.

Ryan thought that was a good idea. He was really pleased to have been hired, and knew that the job had been competitive. He took his coffee break at 10 AM that morning and told Les, the super in accounting, that he was going to deliver the wish to the boss.

May announced to Wendy that Ryan Whalen from accounting was there to see her.

"Send him in," she said.

He only went inside her office door and said: "Ms Barton, I wanted to thank you again for hiring me; I appreciate the opportunity you've given me and I want to wish you a happy birthday."

May, standing now at her desk behind Ryan winced. She realized immediately that Ryan was the victim of a prank. She saw that Ryan was turning to go and that Wendy was smiling and nodding at him.

Ryan seemed to be confused by Wendy's reaction, or lack of it and turned, when May got to him, to go.

"It's okay," May said.

Then, before he left the office, she softly explained to him what he'd just done and how he'd been set up.

"I'll kill him!" he said.

May quickly reflected that she wouldn't want to be in Les' shoes and have Ryan mad at her. Ryan Whalen was 35 and in great shape. He attended a gym regularly and worked with weights and running to keep himself fit. Less Gorman was short, fat and a smoker!

"Ryan," May said, "Just let this go! It's their 'right of passage' thing. Take it in good stride."

"Well, it makes me feel terrible about having done it; ruined that woman's day!" he said.

"It's okay," May said, "I'll talk to her."

But Ryan was morose about his unwitting gaffe. When the day ended, and Les actually did apologize for setting him up, he went for his normal dinner at his brother's restaurant, 'Rene's'. It was a popular local eatery that specialized in continental cuisine.

(Rene wasn't French but had gone to continental cooking schools and was considered a first rate chef by his many, many fans and clientele.)

"Hey, bro," Rene said, greeting Ryan with a hug. "You look grim!"

"Yeah," Ryan answered, "Made an ass of myself at work."

"Tell," Rene said.

Ryan explained the setup for him to wish the boss a 'happy birthday' and the explanation from May about how morose Wendy was about turning 50 that day.

"Boss?" Rene said, "You mean Wendy Barton?"

"Yes," Ryan said grimly.

"She's here tonight," Rene said, "She comes in now and again; she's over there."

"Crap!" Ryan said, "This will make her even angrier, when she sees me."

"Nonsense," Rene scoffed. "You go right over there and tell her that you were set up and apologize. It'll be fine!"

Ryan just stared at his older brother, who normally never steered him wrong, for a few seconds and said: "If this doesn't work, if this backfires, I'm going to buy you out and fire your ass!"

Rene was grinning widely by the time that Ryan got to the end of what he was saying.

"Go on, don't be afraid!" Rene said, so Ryan went.

Wendy looked up with total surprise on her face, when Ryan got to her table. She had a glass of wine from a bottle of German white but didn't seem to be drinking it.

"Ryan!" she said, and then recovering, went on in a very cold voice: "What are you doing here?"

Ryan was displeased immediately by her tone but glanced at his older brother who was looking encouragingly at him and kind of gulped and held up a hand.

"No, Ms Barton," he began, "I am not stalking you!" his own voice now matching her own frostiness. He realized that he wasn't going to play this rudeness game with her any more.

"Rene," he began his explanation, pointing to Rene over his shoulder, "Is my older brother. I come in here usually on a Friday for dinner with him. Since I saw you here, I decided to come and apologize for my unwanted wish today, and I do."

He immediately began to walk away.

She looked at him, pushing out of her mind how attractive this young man was, began to shake her head:

"Ryan, um, Mr Whalen," she said quickly. "I'm upset here but that's no reason for me to be rude, and I apologize for my behavior; I really do."

He smiled at her and nodded, as he turned away, finished with her!

But she went on and said: "You were set up, I bet, right?"

"Afraid so!" he said.

"I thought so," she said. "It's like the old advice: 'Don't let others know where your goat is tied, and then they can't get it!'"

She smiled at the end of the sentence, and he grinned and nodded again, turning to go.

"Ryan," she said, "I've been such a bear today; please join me for a glass of wine. We'll kind of celebrate."

She hesitated and then, as though with great courage, said in a tiny voice: "Today's my birthday!"

"Is it really?" he said with total feigned surprise.

"Don't you dare play with me!" she said, grinning too by the time she'd said it, while he stood there with his hands in the air in a defensive posture.

"A glass of wine, yes," he said, then, smiling.

She motioned to their waiter, but Rene came over instead.

"Ms Barton," he said with great solicitousness, "Is this man bothering you?"

At that she actually giggled. "Yes, he is," she said, "But I'm determined to put up with it and him!"

"Anything you say, Ma'am," Rene said, grinning now at his brother.

"Another wine glass for my guest!" Wendy said.

"Right away," Rene said, and motioned for the waiter, and, before he walked away, winked at his brother.

"I saw that!" Wendy said to Ryan.

"Oops!" he said.

"Oh, Ryan," she said immediately, "I'm not as bad as my mood paints me, really."

"I think you're lovely!" he said and then he colored, realizing that he'd given vent to his private thoughts.

She blushed and said a soft; "Thank you for that."

"Speaking what was on my mind before I thought," he said ruefully.

"Well, it was very nice, and I appreciate what you said!" she responded. The tension in the air had dissipated by then, and both were feeling more comfortable.

Then the wine glass was there.

She sighed then and said: "Ryan, I'm tired of being scared, frazzled and out of sorts by this damn birthday! It's not like me; just not and I've been growling and snapping at people all day long."

"I hadn't really noticed!" he said lightly.

"Now, think, Ryan, before you tease me about whether the ice out there, where you're currently standing, isn't a bit too thin to be out on!" she said.

He made the defensive gesture again, putting his hands up in the air as if to ward off whatever she was going to do and he grinned at her.

Then, surprising herself, she went into the whole issue of her Grandma's death and then her Mom's and how it made her skittish about turning 50, and how she'd been on the run from the truth about the birthday all day long.

"I was kind of chagrined at 30," she explained, "And not over the moon about 40 but nothing like this funk." She shook her head, as though in disbelief with herself, when she finished saying it.

"Well," he said then, "Let's drink to loveliness at 50!"

She smiled at him and said: "You make me feel so much better, and I've been so horrible; I'm truly sorry!"

He smiled at her, letting her know that it was fine, and then she clinked glasses with him, and he repeated his toast: "Here you are, loveliness at 50!"

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and accepted his toast. They drank and then she gave him an inquiring look. "Have you eaten?" she asked.

"No," he admitted.

"Join me?" she asked.

"Only if I get to treat the birthday girl to dinner!"

"Oh, I didn't mean that," she protested.

"I'm part owner here," he said.

She smiled broadly then and said: "Yes, treat the birthday girl to dinner! And thank you!"

He motioned for the waiter. At that point, Rene came over to the table again and told them about the specials for that evening. They both chose the filet of Dover Sole.

"Good choice!" Rene said, "Let me go in now and oversee it being done."

"That's my big brother," Ryan said with pride, "The great chef!"

"Well this is turning out to be such a treat," she mused with a smile.

They spoke much like good friends for the balance of the meal. Ryan told her about his almost being raised by his older brother Rene and the way that they worked together to help Rene reach his cooking goals.

"We were raised by my uncle and aunt from the time we were teens," Ryan explained. "We made a decision that we'd both work together on our goals in life and Rene's was the first turn."

"What a great way to face the challenges of life," she said.

"Paid off for us," Ryan said, "After he got set up here in the restaurant -- that was right about the time that Aunt Chris and Uncle Wayne both died in a boating accident. Of course, Rene and I were pretty much on our own by then but the folks provided the final amount that was needed to get the restaurant up and going. And since we used all the funds available, we just declared it a partnership, with me the minor partner. It's worked well for us. And then it was my turn and I got my accounting degree. For years, I worked here as his accountant and took on some other businesses too but eventually I decided that I wanted to change that kind of style. I saw the advert for your position and applied for it, and that was fine until I made an ass of myself today wishing the boss a 'happy birthday'!"

They both giggled then and she said: "But, hey, it is my birthday!"

"Well grand!" he said and they drank another toast.

Then it was her turn and she talked a bit about losing her Mom and Dad, when she was about 30.

"I'd been by then, working at the business with Dad for a good ten years, and I took to it right away. I took time to work in different departments to gain some experience across the board, and it has paid off for me," she explained.

They were finished with their Dover Sole by then and simply pushed back from the table a bit.

"Dessert?" Rene asked, when he saw that they were finished with their meal.

They both declined the dessert.

"Thank you, Ryan," she said, "For being so nice, when I was rude and for treating me so kindly on my birthday!"

"It was my treat," he said.

By then they had left the restaurant, after Ryan claimed a hug from his older brother and Wendy got a hug from Rene also.

As they were going outside, and Ryan was going to walk her to her car, he noticed the lights on at the bakery across the street.

"Please come with me!" he said.

She looked mystified but went into the bakery with him, where he bought one chocolate cupcake with delicious looking chocolate icing. As she was looking on and grinning, he asked if they happened to have a birthday candle and was told that they did.

He gave her the cupcake with the birthday candle in it. She took the bag with the candle in it with a huge smile.

When they arrived at her car, she turned and said: "Thank you so much, you've made my birthday a treat, beyond anything that I would have or could have imagined! I appreciate it."

She gave him a hug then before getting into her car.

Ryan was immediately impressed by the way that she felt pressing herself against him. His mind went off into a twirl of thoughts about how he'd put his hands on her to run them over her back and her backside, her breasts, nipples and lovely stomach down to her pubic patch. He just barely backed away from her in time to keep her from realizing that he was getting an erection from his thoughts.

She, for her part, as he moved away, realized almost precisely what was going on in his mind. It was all that she could do to keep from grabbing him again but she rode herd on her emotions, not totally trusting them, since she'd been led by them to come out and talk to him in a very unlike Wendy Barton fashion. She realized that what was needed for her was to take some time and think about what had just happened that evening to her.

"Thank you again," she said. "Especially for my birthday cake..." she thought for a moment and said: "And for that hug!"

She let the issue hang in the air there, not venturing to tell him the way that the hug made her feel kind of fuzzy and buzzy inside.

"That," she said to herself, "Will have to wait until I get a chance to think about it."

Above everything else, she was determined to be careful here. It was one thing to accept his kindness on her birthday and yet another to make a fool out of herself over a much younger man!

When she drove away, he simply stood there, realizing that she had indeed given him an erection and said a soft: "Wow!"

He went back into the restaurant then and had a late night drink with Rene. They talked about the encounter and the way that it had made Ryan feel.

"I'm afraid," he explained to Rene, "That she felt that good that I was about to make a kind of fool out of myself."

"Well," Rene said, "Just be careful and think about it first; know your own mind about it, about her, before anything else happens."

"As usual," he replied, raising his glass to his older brother, "The best advice in town!" He finished his drink then and setting the glass down said: "Well, I'm off home now."

(In their agreement about Rene starting his business first with all the assets that they could manage, Rene had opted for his own apartment near the restaurant and Ryan had gotten the large home that his parents had left to the two of them.)

The night was a restless one for Ryan and also for Wendy. They both had a 'tossing and turning' kind of night, with thoughts about the day never leaving them for very long. Eventually, sleep came and, since they both had a free day the next day, they slept late.

Wendy had decided to go into the office to look some items over and found May there doing the same thing.

"So, how was the day?" May asked, when they finally had a chance to sit over cups of coffee.

"Let me tell you," Wendy said and described the scene at Rene's with Ryan and how it had turned out, with him buying her a birthday dinner and then the cupcake.

May had a huge, very pleased look on her face, when Wendy finished.

At that point, Wendy stuck her hands up in the air and said: "NO! Don't you dare start match making! Don't you dare!"

"Now whatever made you think that?" May asked innocently and went to her own office chanting almost under her breath: "Boss has got a boyfriend!"

"Stop it!" Wendy yelled with a giggle in her voice. "Have not!"

May turned to her and said: "Okay!" but just her tone of voice made Wendy called out even more loudly that she did not have a boyfriend!

NEXT ENCOUNTER:

Their interaction stayed in both of their minds and played its scenes over and over, albeit in slightly different ways.

Ryan was taken by, absolutely smitten by Wendy Barton's simple loveliness. He kept that particular picture in his mind active and alive of her sitting across from him at Rene's during the 'birthday' celebration.

For Wendy it was somewhat different. She too was impressed by the time that they spent together, 'celebrating', at Rene's but she chided herself, frequently for being 'adolescent' about the encounter. The words and warnings that she gave herself about the encounter, time after time, were along such lines as: "Don't you go getting soft about this, girl! He's that much younger than you that he certainly isn't going to be interested in an old cow like you!" The 'old cow' remark fit in with her, as yet still active, feeling about having had her 50th birthday. It tended to make her morose, although she tried to hide it and only visit the feelings, when she was alone.

Then there was a day, a few weeks after the 'birthday celebration'. It was a bit later in the day and Wendy had decided on a run that day. She and Ryan had become successful in dealing with each other, and seemingly pushing the 'birthday celebration' thing off to the side. She was happy about that. It took pressure off of her, allowing her to not simply dwell on how gorgeous a man he actually was.

"Out of your league, lady!" was her message to herself these days, and she meant it.

One of the perks that the company provided for those who worked in the office tower was a fully equipped gym. It had a weight room and a training track, which Wendy often took advantage of. She was that afraid of 'all of her stuff going south', as she put it, as often with a giggle as not.

On that particular day, she went, after work, to the women's locker room and dressed for her run. She had a pair of skin tight running pants, the very fashion in those days. Today's were black, satiny and certainly clingy. She topped that with a long tee that covered her down to almost her knees. She rarely ever met anyone, especially on Fridays, when the gang was anxious to get away for their weekend. Today, however was different.

As she made her way to the track, she passed, along the hallway from the locker rooms, the weight facility. That's where she saw him. It was Ryan and he was working on weights. She was sure that he didn't see her but she was, for the moment mesmerized.

He was wearing a white tee with no sleeves. It showed massive shoulders and was short enough to also show a fairly narrow waist. The workout shorts that he was wearing were the kind called 'onion skins'. They were thin and the front panel overlapped with the back panel, each panel curving up to the waist band of the shorts. When he moved, because of their design, or maybe on purpose with their design, she didn't know, she was able to see, from the side, the bottom strap of his jock.

Her breath caught in her throat then, as she watched him lift the tee and wipe his sweaty face with it.

(Our Wendy had a well-developed, totally hidden and completely -- or almost completely suppressed -- weakness. It was for a sweaty man. She never knew where it came from, this fascination and she often thought, during those times when she allowed clever fingers to wander down into her pubic hair, of what it must be like to have and cling to a sweaty man. It raised her hackles in a good way and produced pictures, mind pictures of licking the sweat from the back of a brawny man, and from other strategic places, and just 'having her way with him'. That was her mind picture. But it was only now that she was faced with just such a brawny, sweaty man.)

She changed her directions immediately and went back to the locker room. She knew that it was only vanity but she was determined to do it. At her locker, she shucked off the long tee shirt and put on a much shorter version, one that, this time, ended at her waist and let her butt show.

"Biggest and best part," she quipped to herself, "So, let it show."

Then there was the inevitable: "Wendy Barton, you're acting like a fool here."

She turned that message off and proceeded to go out to the running track. After her warmup stretches, she began her run.

Ryan, finished now with his weight workout and getting ready to run himself, noticed her right away.

His reaction mirrored hers immediately. He felt an involuntary intake of breath, as he watched her swing by, getting into her stride.

"What a magnificent ass!" he said to himself, not missing her slightly bouncing breasts either.

"Calm yourself, boy," he chided then, much like her own previous inner dialogue, "This lovely woman's out of your league!"

(Of course it wasn't true in either his case or hers but they had to find that out, discover it yet.)

He emerged from the weight room and went into a stride that matched hers.

"Ryan!" she said, only slightly out of breath.

"Hey, birthday girl!" he said, pressing what he hoped was an advantage right away.

She let out a giggle.

"I know," she said, "I deserve that!"

"Sorry," he said, contrite, right away. "I'll mind my manners!"

"Your manners are fine," she said, "And your form is great!"

"Look who's talking about form!" he said. "The way you move is like watching a kind of poetry!"

She giggled, "Aren't you the fancy talker!"

He grinned at her and then they settled down to their run.

At one point, he slowed saying that he had to do a shoelace. He actually wanted her to pass him. He was determined to get another look at her ass, so well displayed by the clingy fabric of the running pants. It hit him, this time as before, like a hammer blow.

"Wow!" he said, as he cruised out to join her again.

For her part, as he did his shoe, she got a chance to watch him from kind of the side. She stared at the slope of his thigh muscles and the way that an ever so slight amount of butt cheek was showing, with its attendant jock strap, from the way that he was braced up on a knee to tie his trainer's lace.

It was all eye candy for her until they, by mutual agreement, ended the run and began to do a cool down walking lap. Then she saw how he glistened with sweat from his efforts. His tee clung to him, as did his yellow onion skins.

She hadn't reckoned with this, nor with her immediate reaction. She was almost instantly in the midst of a lust that was fairly overwhelming for her. It hit her like a fist and caused her to stop and simply stare at him.

She'd known about this kind of kinky turn on for herself for a good long time, although she'd never given in to it, but this was the first time that she came face to face with, what was for her, a form of raw need, and she went pale and was shaken by it.

He stopped and put out a hand to her: "Wendy," he said with great concern. "Are you alright? You look so pale."

"Yes," she fairly croaked, "Just a bit winded. Need to head in and sit down a moment and then get into the shower."

She made a move to go into the locker room but he was determined: "Well, I'm going with you; if anyone else is there I'll leave you to them but I want to make sure that you're okay."

Wendy was indeed okay but she was flat out horny, and trying to suppress the feeling. Her pubic hair was getting wet from the overflow from her own pussy, and she was having, right then at least, trouble keeping it under control.

There was no one else in the women's locker room. Ryan sat her down and then went for a drink of water for her. She watched him go. She was tuned in now, in her turned on state, to the twitch of his magnificent ass cheeks against the still wet onion skins, and the play of the muscles in his back, as well as his skin, glistening with sweat still.

"Oh, dear!" she said, "You almost lost it there, girl!"

She drank the water and thanked him.

"Well, you look better!" he said, "So, I'd better get out of here."

"Thank you, Ryan," she said sincerely, "For being so nice and taking care of me."

"Welcome!" he said.

Then she was up, and, having made her determination, hugging him, getting into contact with sweaty Ryan Whalen. Mentally she decided that this hug was her treat for the day.

He was a bit surprised but enjoyed the hug, pulling away before she felt, too closely, the twitching of his dick against the constraints of his jock.