Chapter 7: No Tears and no Hearts Breaking – No Remorse

No Tears and no Hearts Breaking – No Remorse

The next three weeks were strange. I was very keen to be with Leslie again, but she was “busy”, and slightly distant. We had always been very clear indeed that we had a “Friends with Benefits” relationship and would see one another only when it suited us both, so I didn’t push. I did wonder about Leslie’s distance, but thought it best not to enquire too closely.

And something had changed in me too. I was still interested in the bodies of young women, but that interest was subtly different from before. I had never thought it was OK to drool or leer or act in a way that made anyone (except me) feel uncomfortable, but I had always felt guilty about my “inappropriate interest”. Up to now. And now the guilt seemed to have gone.

I kept wondering how permanent this change in me and my psyche would prove, and whether it would affect my level of excitement with Leslie. I was really looking forward to being with her again, and exploring the change. But she was “busy”, and I forced myself to keep remembering that we had both been very clear that neither of us wanted a “relationship”, neither of us wanted exclusivity, and that any sign of “clinginess” or being demanding would be off-putting for Leslie.

Her “busyness” stretched into six weeks. Despite the freedom that our arrangement provided, I somehow didn’t get around to following up on any of the other women who had replied to my online advert, and eventually found myself whingeing to an old diving buddy about missing the sexual contact I had gotten used to. Ryan was unsympathetic.

“For most of the time I have known you, you have been on your spiritual trip. After twenty odd years you finally got over it and had some sexual fun. You want to have some more. You know how to do that and you still have the contact details of half a dozen women who have indicated interest. Why don’t you go for it?”

“Don’t know”. I really didn’t.

“So what would the reason be if you did know? Ryan was a really smart bastard and he knew me well. He wasn’t backing off. But I still didn’t know why I was hesitating.

“I don’t fucking know! I really don’t.”

There was a long pause. Ryan kept eye contact, a half frown adding a few more wrinkles to his weatherbeaten features. I squirmed a bit.

“All right bugger you – I’m scared!” That wasn’t quite right, but close enough. I wasn’t actually scared of meeting new women, more uncertain whether putting energy into chasing other women meant I had to forget about having any more sex with Leslie. Limiting myself made no sense, and nor did crossing that particular bridge before I came to it. I was thinking of how I might explain all that to a slightly quizzical Ryan, when I was saved by the bell. My phone played Leslie’s ringtone. I flashed the phone at Ryan, who got up and waved goodbye.

After an exchange of greetings there were no further peasantries. Leslie was brusque and came straight to the point. “I’ve been putting you off. I don’t feel good about that.”

“It’s okay. We agreed...” Leslie ignored my instinctive attempt to reassure her and went right on.

“You gave me the best time of my life, but I’ve met someone.” She paused, and I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice as it was clear I had now come to the bridge, and it was time to cross it.

“Congratulations!” I paused and then went on, hoping against hope. “I guess that means no more benefits?”

“That’s right. We’re exclusive. But I will always be your friend. I’m just soooo grateful!”. Leslie’s words tumbled out. “The way you proved you would let me stay in control was amazing! It gave me the confidence to let me deal with Grandad, and that has made a huge change.” In my mind’s eye, I could see Leslie’s excitement and vulnerability around sex and Grandad, and I started thinking about what to tell her about my own changes and new ability to look at the bodies of young women without my former guilt, but Leslie hurried on.

“And about that – I have a friend.” I suppressed a laugh. “I would really like to tell her about you. You would be so good for her.”

“She has a thing for old men?”

“No, for any men. She is really keen on sex, but she can’t make it work. Even though she’s my age, she’s never been able to work through the teenage stuff. She didn’t get to do any teenage exploration and her fantasies about that and her shame about the fantasies have always got in the way of good sex.”

“That doesn’t sound like a Grandfather fetish.”

“It’s not. But I’m sure she would find you attractive, and if you would let her stay in control I’m sure she would develop the confidence to explore the bits she has always had trouble with. You are so good with the teenage girl thing”

What the hell! I had been six weeks without sex, holding out for more with Leslie. It was now certain that that was no longer a prospect, but she was clearly offering to set me up. Why not?

So I agreed to let Leslie tell Pauline about me and give her my number.

We met in the same café where I had first met Leslie. Despite being expensively and beautifully dressed, Pauline turned out to be quite unattractive by conventional standards. Small and skinny, with tiny breasts, and facial features that somehow did not quite match each other. Even in her bloom she had been plain, and the wrinkles acquired over sixty odd years hadn’t helped. The overall effect was almost ugly.

Until she saw me and smiled. Then her whole face lit up and subtly changed. The wrinkles were still there of course, just like mine. But they were far less obvious, and almost unnoticeable beside the twinkle in her eyes and the way her grin seemed both innocent and cheeky. The “old hag” of children’s fairy tales became Little Red Riding Hood. I made a mental note to experiment with my “big bad wolf” role and smiled back, extending my hand.

Pauline’s hand was small and soft, and I felt a faint buzz, a tingle of sexual energy as we connected. But I must have held her hand for too long, or looked too intently, or let my “big bad wolf” come too close to the surface, because Pauline’s smile wavered and disappeared. It was briefly replaced by a look of uncertainty before the “old hag” came back. I let go of her hand, and for a second, she looked sad.