Carla sat and looked at her image in the make-up mirror and liked what she saw, she hoped others would agree. She’d changed her hairstyle to a short chopped bob and lightened her hair color. To her mind, the casual, somewhat disheveled look it gave her reflected the new attitude she’d recently adopted; sexy, carefree, and nonchalant.

A few months earlier, she’d gone to a motel pool party with her girlfriend Lillian, hoping to meet some men. Instead they’d hooked up with a couple of nineteen year olds. After she’d spent the night with one of them, Lillian had talked her into swapping partners in the morning. It was the first time she’d done anything like that. She fucked the young man, sucked his cock, been eaten by him, then screwed his friend. In the days afterwards she had felt like a depraved, degenerate, and immoral sexual animal. The funny part was she loved that feeling and wanted it back: it seemed to her that soiled doves had more fun getting dirty than the pristine ones did staying clean. She decided to embrace her sexuality.

The makeover was a part of all this. Her trips to the health club had become serious. Before this they had been more of a social event where she met with her girlfriends, now she was earnestly trying to tone herself up. She started to experiment with her make-up, trying to find the best ways to highlight her features without going overboard; trying to attract attention without looking like a “painted up woman”. Her clothes became tighter, blouses often low cut.

She’d gone on-line and ordered used copies of “The Sensuous Woman” and “The Happy Hooker”, two books that were popular in the seventies that she’d hear of. The first was a how-to guide for woman wanting to explore their sexual side, the second was a memoir of a high end New York call girl that she figured might have a suggestion or two that might interest her.

There was also something else that was different. The night at the pool party was something that had happened spontaneously, totally unplanned. Now she was on the hunt. She’d spotted her prey and was laying her plans. She’d seen him at the health club working out. He was young, buff, and good looking. That alone was enough to get her attention, but there was something else; she wasn’t sure why, but he looked vaguely familiar to her. Then one day at home it hit her.

The local fire company had put out one of those calendars featuring twelve of the younger members as a fund raiser. She’d bought a copy, since it was for a good cause, but never actually hung it, though she had looked it over rather well. Now she went looking for it and found it sitting on top of her refrigerator. Flipping through it she found him, Mr. November, smiling out at her in a tight tee-shirt, one arm on his hip, the other leaning against a fire pole. It was definitely him. Below the picture was the name Ricky. He’d awakened something deep inside her.

She made her plans quickly, determined to put them into action as soon as possible. She’d seen him at the health club often enough to become familiar with his schedule and made sure she went at the same time to waited for the right opportunity. The chance for initial contact came quicker than she’d expected. Seeing him walk over to a bank of vending machine in the break area she followed him. Standing at the machine next to the one he was using, she began fumbling through the runner’s purse she had strapped to her waist. As he took a bottle of Gatorade from the machine she spoke in a distracted voice, sounding almost like she was talking to herself.

“Oh, damn, I didn’t bring any money.” She shook her head and turned, starting to walk away, “I swear, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my neck.”

Then she heard him behind her. “Wait, don’t go away empty handed, what did you want? It’s on me.”

It was the response she’d hoped for, but as she turned around to face him she feigned surprise. “Oh, that’s so nice of you, thank you, but I really couldn’t. I can do without water for one morning.”

“Nonsense,” he said. Then pulling a couple

of bills out of his wallet he inserted them in the machine. “Here, take your pick. If you don’t, the next person who comes along gets a free drink.”

She watched as he put away his wallet. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll pay you back the next time we run into each other.”

“No,” he shook his head, “there’s no need for that, it’s my treat.”

“That wouldn’t be right,” she told him, “how about we stop somewhere the next time, when I’ve got cash and I’ll buy us coffee. That would square things, OK?”

“Like I said, it really isn’t necessary, but if you insist, we’ve got a date.” He watched as she pressed the button for a bottle of water, “Enjoy, next time the coffee’s on you.”

“Agreed,” she said smiling. Then she watched as he walked away. It seemed to her that her little plot was going well. She was also happy to have found out that he seemed to be both friendly and kind hearted. This guy almost appeared to be too good to be true. He was certainly living up to her expectations.

About a half an hour later as she was finishing her work out she saw him over on one of the treadmills. The one next to him was vacant. Not believing her good luck she sauntered over, pretending not to notice him. She kept looking over at him out of the corner of her eye as she fiddled first with the control panel on the treadmill, then with her Mp3 player. When it seemed like he was looking at her, she casually raised her head and glanced over at him doing a small double take as if she were surprised to see him.

“Oh, hi again,” she exclaimed, flashing him her best smile, “fancy meeting you here.”

“You know, I was about to say the exact same thing,” he said, returning her smile. Carla was struck with his warm and welcoming smile.

“Well, you know what they say about great minds, they think alike,” she responded.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued smiling as he spoke, “my name’s Ricky. And yours is... ?”

“Carla,” she stated, hoping her smile was as every bit as inviting as his. It must have been, because once she started her machine, he continued to chat with her.

Their conversation was of no real importance, all rather trite and banal. It was the standard type two people have when they don’t know each other very well and aren’t sure what to say. But Carla was thrilled, though she hid it well. She knew that his desire to talk meant he probably liked her on some level. This belief was further

reinforced when she said she had to leave. Once she turned off the treadmill and stepped off, she turned towards him.

“OK, behave, Ricky, and don’t forget, we have a coffee date.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I won’t, I’m looking forward to it. Now have a nice day, Carla, take care until then.”

She felt a throb of excitement when she heard his guarantee. As she walked away she noticed he’d adjusted the speed of his machine upwards to a fast jogging pace. That meant he’d kept his speed down so he could talk to her. She took that as a sign that he was interested in her. She walked away happy, looking forward to their next meeting with elation.

In order to understand Carla’s trepidation and uncertainty in this matter, it’s necessary to understand a few things about Carla herself. She was not a woman full of self-confidence and assurance when it came to her looks or sex appeal. That was a trait she’d never developed as a young girl. Growing up she had not been one to flirt with or tease boys. As a young woman she had never thought of herself as beautiful, merely mildly attractive. In moments of arrogance she thought of herself as slightly above average. What she never understood was that first off, she was good looking, she’d under rated herself. She also didn’t realize that her looks had held up well. Though over forty, she hadn’t gained weight and hadn’t shown any signs of premature aging.

There was also another issue, sex. She enjoyed sex, loved it actually, but she’d never been promiscuous. When she was married, she confined sex to the bedroom with her husband. After her divorce, men had come on to her, of course, but she had assumed they were horn dogs who would jump anything that wore a skirt and perfume. Even the two 19 year olds she and Lillian had picked up at the pool party were, after all, two 19 year olds and too horny to be all that choosy. Ricky on the other hand was well into his twenties and more experienced. He was also very attractive and he was on that damned calendar. Carla wasn’t the only woman who’d purchased it, he was probably a local celebrity at the bars and clubs where girls younger and prettier than her made a fuss over him. He surely wouldn’t be desperate for a lay. She felt she had to move slowly and cautiously with him. She was fearful that he might consider her to be a joke, some cock crazy old bat and treat her as such. She felt she had to bide her time and walk softly. She was new to the art of seduction and playing it by ear. She didn’t want to make any mistakes, scare him off, or make a fool of herself.

Her strategy seemed to be working well right from the start. The first “coffee date” was at a near-by doughnut shop, she was surprised that someone as into fitness as he was would eat anything as unhealthy as doughnuts. He assured her that that was the reason he worked out, so he could eat them. Their little breakfast get togethers became a regular thing, moving from the doughnut shop to the diner. By the end of the second week they’d become fast friends. It was now easier for her to imagine going to bed with him. He might be younger than her, but he was no longer a stranger and she’d stopped worrying about looking like some sort of hair brained aging nymphomaniac. But on the other hand, she still wasn’t pushing the sexual angle, it somehow didn’t seem right. At the end of the third week he told her he’d be coming to the health club about an hour and a half later for the next month.

“We rotate between day and night shift every month, and the shifts are staggered,” he explained, “this last month I’ve been working 10 in the morning till ten at night. Next month, I’m scheduled for 8 at night until 8 AM. I hope we can still get together, I kind of enjoy our morning dates.”

Carla felt a slight surge of euphoria when he referred to their morning gathering as dates and the fact that he wanted to continue them seemed to mean he wasn’t just humoring an older woman. Perhaps he really did want to be with her. Things appeared to be going her way and she wasn’t about to let that change.

“Well, I only work four days a week, and I’ve got a lot of leeway in my schedule. So, We can get together up to three days, if you want. Just tell me how many and what days and I can arrange it, we can still have our breakfasts.”

“Great, all three would be nice, if you don’t mind,” he answered quickly. “How about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, they OK with you?”

She nodded in agreement, pleasantly surprised with the speed he’d answered. She felt he’d already given this some thought and he must really enjoy her company. She was also thrilled with the way the pieces were falling into place for her. She was no longer wondering if she could have sex with Ricky so much as when and how.

“One thing, though,” he said, “it won’t be breakfast, more like dinner, so we’ll have to hit the diner.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, on the night shift, we mostly eat leftovers from the refrigerator and some of that stuff wasn’t all that good in the first place. I only eat enough of it to get me through the night.”

“I thought firemen were supposed to be good cooks.”

“I guess it all depends on which house you’re assigned to. In my barn there’s a lot of guys who think they’re good cooks, but most of the guys just make chili or spaghetti. You know how many times a week I eat chili? It’s hard for me to remember back to when I liked it.”

At the end of the first week, after she’d watched him eating a cheeseburger and fries every morning, she saw the chance to make her next move. She told him the following Monday morning she was going to have a proper dinner ready for him at her place. At first he protested claiming he didn’t want to put her to that much trouble, but she insisted. All went well the following Monday. She prepared stuffed chicken breasts with wild rice; they washed it down with a white wine. He seemed to really enjoy it and she enjoyed watching him eat with such relish. She was worried, though, hoping he wasn’t starting to look at her as some sort of substitute mother.

When it came time for him to leave, she saw him to the door. When he paused to thank her, she stepped close, rising on her toes and with her hand behind his neck, pulled him down for a kiss. It wasn’t a particularly heavy duty kiss but it was much more than a friendly peck on the lips. It was a soft lingering kiss, full of promise and intention. It was her signal that she had more to offer than a good meal. When she stepped back, she slid her hand from behind his neck and pressed it lightly against his cheek as she gazed into his eyes with a small demure smile on her lips. She could tell by the way he looked at her that he’d gotten her message. It also seemed to her that he not only understood, but wanted it to happen. Something seemed to be holding him back. She thought maybe he was as unsure of himself as she was and didn’t know how to proceed. But it didn’t matter, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

“I’ll see you Wednesday morning, I’ve already got the menu planned,” she said, giving him a quick wink of the eye. This time he didn’t protest.

Wednesday morning he arrived right on time, freshly showered, shaven, and cologne scented. That’s when Carla was sure he’d gotten the message. It wasn’t a matter whether something was going to happen, but how to initiate it and who was going make the first move. She’d made beef in a wine sauce reduction served over linguini with a side salad. An open bottle of red wine sat on the table. It all seemed rather elegant.

“Too bad we couldn’t eat this by candle light,” Ricky commented. That was further reassurance that he was thinking the same thing she was.

She sat eating quietly, barely speaking during dinner. Her emotions were too jumbled up at this point for her to talk. Outwardly looking calm, inside she was in turmoil. On one hand she was thrilled. What she’d been hoping for from the beginning was about to happen, filling her with anticipation and anxious excitement. On the other hand she was also experiencing doubts and last minute regrets, wondering if this was something she really wanted to do. Was she really just an older woman making a fool of herself over some young stud? The biggest problem was she knew it wasn’t too late to back out. After all, she never actually promised him anything other than an early morning dinner. If she had no option she could easily go through with it, but having the choice gave rise to second thoughts.

But for all the doubts, she knew she was going to do it. Simply put, she wanted him; wanted him in her, on her, over her, under her, alongside her, or up against her. When they finished eating she picked up the bottle of wine and her glass and suggested they go into the living room. She gestured for him to sit on the couch, then turned on her CD player filling the room with the sounds of vintage Sinatra. She sat down alongside him and leaned against him, sipping her wine. It had begun

As they sat listening to the music, she felt him shifting his position then he placed his arm around her, his hand cupping her far shoulder, pulling her tighter against him. Turning slightly, she looked at him, her head tipped to the side and a tight lipped, bemused smile on her face. Raising her wine glass she gulped the last of it down, leaned forward long enough to set it on the floor then turned her attention back to him.

Moving with deliberate slowness, she placed both hands on his shoulders as she leaned forward with lips slightly parted for a kiss. He responded by embracing her with both arms pulling her against his chest. When their lips met all doubts vanished from Carla’s mind as if by magic, replaced by sheer unadulterated lust. She kissed him lightly at first, actually a series of soft sensuous kisses, first on one of his lips then the other. Sucking his lower lip between her own, she ran the tip of her tongue slowly across it. She felt his grip on her tighten as he pressed his mouth against hers. She leisurely slipped her tongue forward into his mouth, feeling the rough texture of his own as it rose to gently caress it. She had that strange sensation of quivering excitement deep inside her that she often got before a sexually encounter, especially one that she’d been longing desperately for.

When the kiss ended, she slumped against him, her head on his shoulder, breathing heavily. His arms were still around her, clutching her firmly. Carla felt safe and secure in his arms and more than that, she felt wanted. Any fears she’d had that he might see her as some silly sex hungry older woman to be used then made fun of later were dispelled. It may be he was like her, driven by lust to be sure, but it was lust with genuine affection.

Slowly one hand began rubbing her back in a comforting fashion but eventually he moved it down her side to her hip. He briefly massaged her hip then slid his hand to her ass, Carla tipped her pelvis to give him better access, loving the feel of his hands stroking her. It was an awkward position, but she only had to hold it momentarily before his hand slid down her leg past the hem of her dress to her knee. Aside from the kiss, this was their first intimate, flesh on flesh contact and it sent a shiver through her body. It was what she’d been waiting for all these weeks.

When his hand moved over to the knee closest to him she snuggled even closer. She had worn a dress that morning specifically for the reason it provided easy access and would be easy to get out of if the need arose and now it was paying off. His hand slid lightly up her inner thigh, barely touching her at first, almost a light tickle. She stroked his forearm encouragingly as his hand continued to run up and down her thigh slowly rubbing harder with each motion. Occasionally his hand would bump against her crotch causing a reflexive tightening of her stomach muscles each time it hit her rapidly moistening pussy.

She slid forward to the edge of the seat cushion, pulling the hem of her dress up, spreading her thighs wider to give him better access to her pussy. He quickly took advantage of her new position, running his hand up to stroke her cunt through the double fabric of the crotch of her panties. She inhaled sharply and her spine stiffened as his hand massaged her pussy with one finger pressing down harder than the other following the groove of her slit through the material. As his hand moved back and forth, the finger was putting pressure on her clitoris with scintillating results.

The unsteady feeling she’d had in her inners had increased to excited churning. Her breath was becoming rapid and shallow. Her head was tipped forward, almost hanging down when she felt the hand that had been on her shoulder under her chin, pushing her head gently up and back, turning it towards him so he could kiss her. When his mouth covered hers, her tongue shot forward into it. They remained that way for several minutes, their tongues making love while he stroked her pussy.

That’s when she realized this was not like the night at the motel pool party. Those two kids, Chet and Ray, were just that; kids. While not virgins, they were inexperienced and kind of inept. Ricky was an entirely different story. Despite a fifteen year age difference he was a man, a young man to be sure, but a man none the less. He was experienced and competent, knowing what he was doing. To her it was the perfect situation; he was young enough to have the stamina and enthusiasm of youth but old enough to know how to use it all properly. Nobody could accuse her of robbing the cradle this time. She was simply taking on a younger lover who was old enough to know what he wanted. If it was her he wanted, and it was obvious it was, she was more than willing.

She slid her free hand down to his lap and felt his erect cock, pressing her palm against it while her fingers traced the outline of it through his trousers. Hard and full, it was a good size, neither overly large nor small by any means. It seemed to her to be slightly bigger than average, but that may have been wishful thinking. All she knew for certain was that she’d been thinking of his dick, dreaming of it actually, for weeks and now all that stood between her and it was a few flimsy layers of cotton twill. She knew that barrier would be gone soon. As soon as the kiss ended, Carla decided to take charge. Taking his wrist, she eased his hand away from her crotch.