After being married for 16 years I suddenly found myself in divorce court with the woman I thought I would spend all my life with. We called it “irreconcilable differences”, but it was trust, she didn’t trust me. My hand to God, she never had to worry about me for one second. Yes, I’m somewhat of a flirt, but never acted upon any response I may have gotten from any woman. A flirt, yes, but in most cases. I was always used to being the “flirtee”, rather than the flirter. I’m not bragging when I say I’m good looking and in great shape, and have gotten 1000’s of second looks from interested members of the opposite sex who fantasize over what a few minutes alone with me might be like. Back in the 60’s, Erica Jong wrote in her “Fear of Flying” novel about “zipless fucks”. Jong explained, “when you came together, zippers fell away like rose petals, underwear blew off in one breath like dandelion fluff. For the true ultimate zipless A-1 fuck, it was necessary that you never got to know the man very well.”

I have it all going for me besides looks, steel blue eyes that can look right through you, an ever-confident personality, a dominating voice that commands you listen and pay attention, and what my ex called, Rick’s “knowing grin”. That look that went back to the flirtee or the flirted that said, “ummm, YES, it’s possible.” But that’s where I always left it, when I was married, or in any committed relationship, I NEVER acted upon my flirtatious words, actions, or looks. TRUST is the glue of any relationship and the core of the word “love”. No trust, no love. Thus, why I was in divorce court.

She could point to no affairs, no cracks in my credo of trust. In her statement, she admitted to the court that I was the same Rick who I have outlined here for you. With no kids involved we simply had a 50-50 split of assets. She wanted her car, the savings, 401K and the house, but could give no reasons why I should be left in that situation. Her demands made negotiations tough and we ended up selling the house, and both cars, splitting the proceeds and any monies we held. She got no sympathy from the judge, and even her lawyer had warned her that she had no leg to stand on and being unwilling to “be fair” to me, Rick, would net her nothing more than half. I professed being the “choir boy”, and she could not prove otherwise.

At 47, I was able to move into a small private community of folks of like means (comfortably wealthy, but not millionaires by any stretch). I could live happily on my business dealings. I made a living liquidating top end household appliances, especially refrigerators and TV’s that were “last years” models. New models come out and manufacturers have old stock to get rid of. I had the connections to move it and provide the instant cash so they didn’t have to hold the paper or store old goods. My customers were buying new goods at half the old price that they could still get top dollar for, and the key to all of it was cash deals. My customer was lined up before I made the deal, and then I had it shipped never having to touch it. Everyone was happy. Hucksters have tried to eliminate me and buy direct from my sources, but they find you can’t pick and choose goods, you buy ALL, including the things that aren’t “fashionable” that manufacturers were “stuck” with, but I found homes for everything. (Those NFL logo mini tailgate fridges that ran off your car battery, the ones you stole at $59 online, 2/3 off the list price? An internet dealer took 2134 of them off my hands at $7.80 each) so, what I’m trying to show you, I was doing quite well for myself.

My neighbors and I make up a clique of 6 that seem to have been predetermined to meet and enjoy each other’s company. We felt like family after only a year or so. There was Junior and Cheryl on one side, Marley and David on the other and Bristol (Bree) across the street. Now, Cheryl and Marley constantly bust on me for my flirty dalliances when we’re out, and privately tell me I should woo Bree, we make such a good couple. In truth, she and I have had little trysts between her sheets in the past, but neither of us is interested in being a couple. The first time she called me for a hook-up she made it well known to me, it was what it was, recreational sex. She admitted “I’ve had sex every day for the past year, always alone, I’d like to hold a sweaty body every now and then. If you promise not to make a big deal of it, Rick, come on over.” Since that time, she has called me one more time, and once at a street bazaar, while listening to a band, I couldn’t help but step up behind her tempting tush and rub my junk on her to show her my appreciation for how it looked. She knocked on my door after all the lights went out at my 2 side neighbors that night.

Two nights ago, we were at another of our city’s street bazaars, walking through the crowds, listening to music, having a few beers and sampling street food. One of the booths was a Real Estate firm trying to entice snowbirds (we are in the warm and sunny South) to buy permanent residences. The woman behind the banner was spectacular, in a word. In high fashion clothes, she showed delicious cleavage of unencumbered, perfectly round breasts, and a tight skirt that accented her hips and made the deep split on her ass something to behold. However, I hadn’t noticed her right away, both Junior and David were poking each other pointing her out while their wives scoffed at them, “Like YOU would have a shot at that!”

Then Marley turned to me and said, “But wait, the great lothario, lover of woman, hasn’t had his turn at her, surely HE could be mounting this woman, if he pleased.”

The gals, all three, scoffed at me as we walked past, but just as I was getting my last glimpse of this beauty, her eye caught mine and she smiled with a certain glow. When the group stopped 2 booths up at CBD oil display, I lagged and went to the lady’s booth.

I looked at the properties pictured in her display as I approached and she asked, “Is there some piece of property you’re interested in?”

“Yes, there is.” I replied, smiling and looking right in her eyes.

“Which piece is it?” She asked, almost playfully.

“The one I’m staring at.” I replied as she blushed and searched for a comeback line.

“THAT has no price on it.” She said, feigning indignance.

“I hadn’t planned on paying for it.” I came right back.

She looked away nervously and considered her “come hither” look that started this, and the words we exchanged as if to give this exchange a “smell test.”

She finally made eye contact with me again, but could make no words come from her nervous predicament.

“I think we should have a drink together later, and get to know each other, chat. We’ve seemed to have piqued each other’s interest.” I said boldly.

“Where?” She asked nervously, her voice faltering.

“There are plenty of places down here, or my place, or yours, if you like.” I said, keeping my boldness obvious.

Suddenly the face that exuded real estate confidence left her for a moment as she realized what I was intimating, and that she had seemed to yearn for (that zipless fuck).

“Tell you what,” I said, “I’ll go catch up with my friends and when the city closes down the streets at 9:30 and drop back and help you pack up what you need to, if you like, or simply send me away.” I said flashing the eyes and smile that had launched more than a couple zipless encounters.

“I don’t even know your name.” She said as I turned away.

I pivoted back and said, “Your eyes told me it wouldn’t make a difference, but it’s Rick. What’s yours?”

“Abby, I, ... uh ... you caught me off guard. Like I know you.” She stammered.

“You will.” I said confidently as I went to catch up.

My friends hadn’t even noticed I had strayed as they listened to the spiel of the hemp oil salesman. We roamed the streets a bit more and decided to call it a night. We drove home in Junior’s SUV and they invited us all for a nightcap. I passed, saying I needed to get a couple things for breakfast, coffee and eggs, and would be going to the nearby market.

I took a quick shower and changed before I drove back downtown. The streets were beginning to clear and I found a parking place near where I “met” Abby.

She was just stacking her literature into a briefcase as I walked up. She still had an array of come-on trinkets with her company name on them, pens, sewing kits, hand sanitizer, etc on the table and I asked if I could help.

She looked up, a little startled, but let her eyes linger for a second.

“Are you sure? I don’t...” She started to say and then pointed to a sectioned plastic tub, and said, “sort those down, in there.”

She began to act nervous and was actually just watching me as she let her mind process the whole situation. I flashed a smile to her, sort of catching her off guard and said, “I can finish this for you and just leave. You started this and can end it. Remember I asked if you wanted to get a drink and chat, and you didn’t say no, you asked “where”.

A half smile curled her lips without saying anything, but she did bend to pick up her briefcase to place it on the countertop. In doing so, her perfect cleavage made another appearance, making sure I saw their full roundness and spectacular way her boobs sat on her chest. It was an intentional flirt and told me that if I assumed anything by her eye catch and smile, I was right in my thinking.

I said, “There’s a quiet little place around the corner, Flo’s French, not even 20 steps. Can I help you put this in your car?”

I nodded toward a car clearly placarded with her firm’s name parked in an alley spot. She smiled and picked up her briefcase and I took the other box and sorting tub. The trunk popped and we both moved to place her things in. As we stood side by side I turned to look at her face and she was doing the same, close enough to kiss, smell and hear each other’s breath. She just whispered “thanks”.

We closed the trunk and she hesitated and waited for me to step and I put out my hand and she took it. I walked her to Flo’s French and we got a seat in a corner where we could hear the piano playing. She ordered a merlot and I a brandy. We held hands uncomfortably until the drinks came. She began to sip and I made small talk.

“So, how long have you been in Real Estate?”

“A few years. I used to help my Dad stage houses and show them. I got my license before I got married, but just started selling a couple years ago. I like it.” She said quietly.

“You’re married?”

“No, not any more. He was a cheating drug user. I broke my father’s heart when I married him. He warned me, but I was stupid. He saw me selling houses before he passed and he was happy for me.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. A pretty girl like you should only have the best of everything. We all have to make good choices, but it can be so hard.” I philosophized.

“When it seems so right at the time, you follow your heart.” She said quietly.

“So true. So, you’ve recovered from the divorce and gotten back on your feet, that’s admirable.”

“I’m the leading seller at our firm. I know they think it’s my looks that get sales, but think about it, A couple spends 250K on a house because the husband likes my looks? I can really sell a home and make people see why they need to do it.” She bragged with a tut-tut.

“I have to agree with you. You enticed me with your eyes, but I’m not spending for a house, although housing is a great investment, now that the market here has stabilized.”

“It is, you can flip a home in 18 months and make 15 or 20 percent, or more. No bank or broker can do that.” She bragged.

We kept up the talk of her work, and then I explained what I did before the talk got small, music, books, etc. We began to chuckle at little coincidences of our lives and tastes. It appeared our conversation might stall and I needed to say something to get to the next step of the evening, or just cut bait and try to make another date.

I gave her an introspective look and asked, “What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

She sat back and looked up and rolled her shoulders like she was stretching a bit and leaned forward to say, “I would normally always say, getting married and wasting 4 years of my life, but right now I’m wondering if it might be picking up a strange man on the street tonight.”

“You picked me up?” I asked.

“My eyes saw you and for the first time in a long time I got a special feeling and I flashed my eyes and smile and hooked you, just like you did me. But, normally, I never act on those little pleasure prompts. I save them till I get home.”

“And then what?” I asked knowing she had said more than she planned.

She flushed deeply and turned her head, embarrassed.

“It’s not a thing to be shy about, we all... , “

“Yes, but we all don’t talk about it, especially to a stranger.” She said clamming up.

“Maybe we should leave, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.” I said.

“We can leave, but please don’t go away. I’ve went this far and I do want to act on my pleasure prompt. Alone is not the same. (she flushed deeply again) I haven’t been with a man for a long time, I’m embarrassed to say.”

I stood and extended my hand and she followed me out.

“Give me your address, where do you live?” She asked.

“7 Celebration Circle, meet me there?”

“Mmm, nice neighborhood. No, we’ll go to my place, I just wanted to know where to find you if this goes off the tracks. Plus, I can Google through my real estate app while you follow me home. If something’s funny, I’ll just drive to the police station.”

I chuckled at her saying, “You’re smart enough not to be taken advantage of. I am who I say.”

I opened her car door and told her to wait until I pulled up so I could follow her, and I did just that.

I sensed she might have second thoughts, given the time since she first encountered me and now, she was alone in her car, knowing what would probably happen. She drove to a nice area and condo property and pulled into a parking space while she pointed to a spot marked guest. I parked and walked to her as she stood by her car.

“Everything’s OK?” I asked.

She nervously nodded and I saw a quiver in her lip.

“Abby, there are no guarantees here, for you or me. Second thoughts are understandable, and I’m no freak, just a good time Charlie.”

“It’s just, I’ve never brought a man home, here. I’ve been here 3 years, right after my divorce.” She said, seeming to get bolder, braver.

“Your ex has never tried to see you here, bother you?”

“He’s in jail, out of state. He got 5 years for possession and trying to sell to a cop, if he comes back to Florida, they want him for taking a 16 year old across state lines or something like that. His past is why I question my judgement, I was so naïve and stupid.”

I just nodded, not wanting to say much else and let her be the instigator and lead on this hook up.

She walked me to her door and opened it and saw me in. She set her purse and keys on a side table and turned to me.