I live a short distance from New Orleans, a city famous for parties and Mardi Gras. What most people don’t know is that the clubs (called “krewes”) that fund and coordinate the parades and general chaos also throw elaborate formal balls for themselves after the parade. Getting an invitation is a rare honor for a non member. This is true even in the smaller towns surrounding the grand krewes of New Orleans.

It is against this backdrop that my story unfolds.

Just out of college in my early twenties and completely unattached, I dated many girls but none that got serious. One weekend a month or so before the start of Mardi Gras I got a call from one of my grandmothers asking me to do a favor. She had a friend whose husband had passed from this mortal realm about a year before and left her quite comfortable, but depressingly alone. Gladys had not dated since his death nor even visited with her friends. She seemed to have lost not only her husband, but also herself.

Dear Mamaw, always one to offer her advice and generally reveling in meddling in the affairs of others had decided that it was time for Gladys to re-enter the world and enjoy her senior years. This is where the favor is introduced. Her plan was for Gladys to go to the Mardi Gras ball and be seen in public so the word would circulate that she was alive and well and in the market for a suitor again. For this plan to work a gentleman had to be found to escort her to the ball. It would be crass for her to attend alone and probably leave her even more depressed.

Mamaw was a member of the local Krewe and friends with some of the leaders and enlisted their support of this scheme. My part in all this drama was to be Gladys’s escort for the evening. My duties were hardly onerous, deliver her to the ball, get her to dance several times, and generally be nice. Did I mention there was a pretty good live band, an open bar, and a rather large buffet? I had no plans that were not quickly discarded and felt I might have a bit of fun. Maybe meet the daughter of some member to contact later.

I accepted the challenge and rented a tux. Gladys’s late husband, Harvey had an eye for pretty things including a lovingly restored baby blue Thunderbird convertible and after Mamaw convinced her that a night with her old friends would hardly do damage she offered the T bird as our chariot for the evening.

Arriving at her house the night of the event I rang the doorbell and waited. When the door opened I was confronted with a vision of elegance. Gladys was wearing an emerald green gown with a short train and a split up the left side held together with small pearl buttons was unbuttoned from the bottom to mid-thigh showing a delicious amount of a leg that, although not fat, was plump and attractively curvy. The neckline that was just low enough to let her breast rise majestically like twin moons above a meadow, glowing milky white against the green satin. Her plush hips and round ass filled the dress to capacity. A string of pearls spilled suggestively into her soft cleavage and her hair that had turn totally silver after her husband’s demise flowed down her back like a waterfall. She wore a small tiara of silver studded with pearls to crown the sight.

Okay, I don’t care that she was in her mid sixties and I still in my twenties. She looked amazing. And my libido took notice. I hoped that the tux helped camouflage my growing response. Bright red nails and lips contrasted with her milky white skin, I think her emergence from seclusion was to be glorious. After a bit of small talk she took my arm as I escorted her to the car and opened the door for her.

She helped my hand for support as she slid into the seat. Her mouthwatering thigh forced its way out of the split in her gown giving me a peek at the tops of her stockings before she was able to demurely arrange the satin to a less tempting state. Did I see a hint of a smile? Nah ... couldn’t have. The beautiful old T bird roared to life and we were off to the ball, her silver hair flying wildly in the wind. “ I had forgotten how much I loved this machine,” she said loudly over the throbbing of the engine. “It is like a living beast yearning to run wild!”

Well now. “The classics do have personality, don’t they? Did I understand that you haven’t been driving her?” I responded.

“Not since Harvey died. He and I used to go for long rides just to feel the wind and sun on our faces and let the power radiate through our souls! I’ve missed the way she growls.”

“Why haven’t you driven it by yourself?”

“I loved my husband dearly and totally. When he died it never felt right to drive her by myself. Maybe that was a mistake.”

“We have some time before the ball starts and it is fashionable to arrive a bit late ... would you like to run down to the lake before go? Maybe let the “Bird” fly a bit?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Lake Pontchartrain is about twenty four miles in diameter and along the northern shore is a small city of Mandeville. There is a street that runs along the lakefront for a dozen blocks or so. People seem naturally drawn to the beauty of the moonlight shining on the water and the hint of salt in the air on the breeze from the lake. That silver moonlight only made her silver mane more magical. And she seemed to be enjoying herself so much that she didn’t notice that her thigh had escaped her gown once again.

I did.

I wonder. I let my hand slip from the shift and softly touched her knee. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and those glistening red lips parted just a tiny bit. The orbs crowning her gown rose and fell with her breathing. I could swear I could see a blush begin to show on those two mounds as they bounced with the bumps in the road.

We turned around at the harbor at the east end of the street and headed back along the lakefront towards the party. My eyes were constantly drawn to her animated breasts as I struggled to keep attention focused on driving. She placed her hand over mine where it rested on her lower thigh and her index inner wandered slowly along the veins on the back of my hand and between my fingers. My hand flexed and squeezed her silk encased leg. Her breasts rose sharply as she sucked air between hers trembling lips and I heard her say something under her breath.

Hmmm ... this was getting interesting. I decided to see where it would go.

I seemed to have found a weak spot. With the powerful engine growling through the night and her hair streaming behind us like the tail of a comet my hand caressed that delicious silken thigh and her breathing quickened. All too soon we reached the hall where the ball was in full swing. She quickly regained her composure and brushed her wind blown hair back into a less wild condition and touched up her makeup to repair any damage done during our exhilarating ride.

Our introduction rang out loud and clear above the revelry, “Mrs Gladys White and her escort!” Several heads turned to see how their old friend was handling her emergence from her self imposed exile. I saw a couple silently mouth “Wow!” at her triumphant appearance. My grandmother had a mischievous self satisfied smile and winked at me when we passed her. Just what part of her plans was I still not privy?

Gladys found our table and I played my part as a gentleman and made sure that she was seated comfortably then I leaned down appearing to ask what she wanted to drink while feasting my eyes on that cream cleavage. As she told me her preference I let my breath tickle her neck and let out a low growl only she could hear. She looked around sharply, her eyes large, clearly startled by my primal attention. I met her eyes with a hungry gaze and allowed my lips to part as I pointedly looked down at her display of feminine charms. A blush blossomed across her cheeks and spread down her neck and across her milky mounds.

“You seem a tad flushed. I hope the night air isn’t giving you a fever.” I teased. Gladys took a few seconds to collect herself before answering.

“I’m just excited to be with all my friends.”

“Have I made that list?”

She smiled, “You’ve made a good start.”

“I’ll be right back with the drinks. Promise me a dance?”

“I’ll consider it if you promise to be a good boy.”

“You have my word that I will be...” I paused, “very good.”

I turned before she could respond and headed to the bar hearing a slight gasp as I did. If nothing else I was enjoying teasing her with a few risqué innuendos.

Upon returning with her gin and tonic (and my safe soda and lime; I was driving, after all) I found Mamaw and Gladys in deep discussion. Did I see guilty looks on their faces as I approached? What were these two plotting?

“Just what are you two wicked ladies doing, planning a bank heist?”

“I was just telling Clara how much of a gentleman you have been.”

“And I was telling Gladys that if she were to show another inch or so of that thigh you might be less of a gentleman!” Mamaw said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Clara!”

“Shoosh, Gladys! Don’t be such a prude. We’re all adults and it’s a night to let you’re hair down and have fun.”

Deciding it might be a time to change the subject I cleared my throat, “What about joining me for a dance, Gladys and let my grandmother find someone else to torture for a bit.”

She took her drink and swallowed a generous amount of courage. “Absolutely, let’s.”

We made our way to the dance floor in time for a slow song. “May I have this dance, pretty lady?”

“Indeed, kind sir!” as she moved into my arms and we found our rhythm. All too soon the band switched to a pulse pounding pop song and laughing with delight, Gladys started moving like a giggly schoolgirl. After a couple of songs that had our blood pumping her ample chest was heaving and I started guiding her back to our table following behind with my hand on her waist when another couple cut in front of us suddenly causing Gladys to stop suddenly and me to walk into her soft satin covered ass. I grabbed her with both hands to prevent her from falling I addition to pulling that juicy ass firmly against my instantly hardening maleness.

A soft, “Oohhh!” escaped her lips before she regained her composure. I reluctantly let go and we continued to the table. “I think you might want to stay close behind me so no one can see your ... problem.”

“I’m sorry if you’re offended, but I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Which young vixen did you find so distracting?”

“If I must confess, it was you. Quite honestly, you have one of the sexiest asses I’ve ever encountered.”

“You really are a sweet gentleman. Very nice of you to compliment and old woman.”

“Stop with the old woman thing. At least tonight. You’re only as old as you feel and I can tell you from experience you felt excellent!” I said with a grin as she blushed.

A few minutes of small talk at the table and the resident trouble maker showed up again, “Gladys, come go with me! I need to powder my nose!” I couldn’t help admiring that magnificent ass retreating towards the restrooms as I decided that Mamaw certainly had devious plans. And I was beginning to think I might enjoy the results of those plans. No, I was gonna make sure that I enjoyed them.

After suffering through a discussion of local politics between several other men at the table for what seemed a eternity two giggling girls returned where two mature women had left. As usual the women were up to something. Ah, but what is this? That vertical row of pearls seemed to have had a change. I was pretty certain I could see more of that infamous left thigh. In fact, when she took a step I could see the tops of those silk stockings. And a bit of hip above that. Would Mamaw’s prediction that my gentility would suffer if more of that leg appeared come true? Perhaps. An involuntary growl rumbled in my chest from some animal deep inside.

I stood to help her with her chair as Gladys returned. As I slid the chair under her I leaned forward and whispered close to her ear, “I think my grandmother is a naughty influence.”

“Why do you say that?”