Chapter 8: An Exemplary GILF

Carol’s apartment, Friday evening

Earlier in the day, we had suggested that Alice might want to arrive a little earlier than the others, so we could focus on getting to know her. Carol and I prepared for the evening. I gave into temptation and put on my Irish kilt in the Tara Tartan, quite aware that the provenance of Irish kilts was questioned, and I’d draw from the Scottish tradition as well. Hey, they’re all Celts, and I am no authenticity Nazi.

With the kilt, I wore a translucent white Jacobite shirt, and a subdued tweed jacket. Completing the outfit were my sporran and, in a stocking, a skean dhu dagger. As Carol took longer to dress, I selected music. The Ball of Kirriemuir was on one player, and erotic background music on another.

Carol came out of her dressing. “I figured that Alice would emphasize her legs.” In response, Carol had put on an exceptionally short red dress, really no more than a belt. A gold zipper went from neck to hem.

We asked if she had any particular preferences in beverages or snacks, and got the response, “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

As we waited, Carol asked me, “Damn. Alice just pushed one of my lust buttons. You don’t mind my lech for Patrick Stewart, do you?”

“Darling, I have a friend lech for him -- but he’s someone I’d happily have in a group.”

“As long as I’m talking about men, Curt, now that we’re going to get male performers, don’t you have some fantasies about me pulling a train, or, for that matter, some of the other girls doing it?”

I felt myself getting very hard. “Sure. I know your watching having pleasure with several women excites you. Turnaround isn’t just fair play; it makes more sense for women to have multiple partners. My caveat is that any group scene has to be safe for you.” We shared a gentle kiss, interrupted by the doorbell.

Alice arrives

Alice arrived, looking lovely. Since our apartment was more gently lit than at the club where we had first met Alice, although perhaps a little brighter, it let us see her differently, her obvious overall tan made her skin glow. I had never consciously thought of shoulders as sexy, but hers were, leading across a tanned upper chest, shown off by an off-the-shoulder blouse. While Alice’s breasts were small, an A or B cup, they had a magical presence, perhaps from the sense that her upper chest was wide. It would set them off when they were exposed.

She had dressed in an unusual combination, which worked. Her blouse was of a peasant cut, not the usual white but a pattern of warm colors. Breaking the rules for tall women, the lines of the pattern were vertical, making her taller.

A dark brown microskirt didn’t cover much. She nipped in her waist with a gold belt. Glancing down, she wore matching dark brown pumps, high heeled for many women. The dancers around me, and those who worked with them, could walk gracefully in four-inch heels, for reasonable distances. When needed, Carol had clunky but effective boots for hiking.

As Alice held a hand of both of us, in greeting, I sensed her charisma, and had little question why she could be a theater star. It wasn’t only charisma, but understated class. I knew, somehow, that she could be formal enough to testify to Congress, or be a delightfully bawdy bitch in private.

“Tea, Earl Gray, hot.” I served, along with a few cakes. “Carol and I sometimes are accused of being coffee Nazis, but we can just as well get exotic with tea. Carol has studied some of the cha-no-yu, the Japanese tea ritual. Not sure how it will play out, but we have lots of different tea.”

Again, Alice reached out and lightly touched us both. “Curt, you and Carol might be just trying too hard. Don’t misunderstand. I appreciate people that know my eyes are in my head, not in my chest. But you both have been so careful not to stare. Curt, you looked a little guilty when you admired my shoulders.

“I’m an actress. I’m a good actress. That means I have to be sensitive to my audience. That also means I have to be aware how I project myself. Do you really think I’d wear an off-the-shoulder top if I didn’t know that my shoulders and upper chest would get looked at? That’s fine with me, because I think they look damn good.” She stood and giggled a little. “Time to admire my legs. Note that I am wearing a very short skirt. You’ll also find me looking good in tight pants, but I do this when I want to be noticed.

“Let me expand on that. You don’t need to ask one question. I’m 6’4”. Now, you will also notice that I’m wearing fairly high heels. I have a bag here that has even higher ones. It used to be that Halloween was my favorite holiday, because it was the one time of day I could wear super-high heels with a micro, as tall as I am, and not be considered a nut or maybe a guy in drag.”

“MEOWW!” We looked down to find the normally dignified Russian Blue, Brussja, to be recognized. Her Siamese friend Bajra seemed a little stunned by Alice. Alice, however, dropped gracefully to cat level and gave them attention and respect. Looking up, she observed, “Furry tails feel very good, especially where I no longer have fur.”

With a grin, I said “Thanks, Alice. I’m still an inch taller than you are, although I don’t wear heels. Shrimp next to me...” Carol bopped me with a pillow. “ ... is a mere 5’8”, and still isn’t taller than me if she wears six-inch heels.”

In a throaty purr, Alice continued, “Yes, but we’re all about the same height if we’re in bed. Right now, though, might I change into my six-inch heels, just for fun? I want you to lust after my incredible legs. I don’t even want to talk that much before we get sexually wild together, as I want to get the early tensions out of the way of our friendship, and out of the way of our artistic collaboration.

“Abie told me enough about what you, as a group, are doing, to know that it’s a place that it’s safe to feel horny and to act on that feeling. Some of those feelings just come out when I’m in character. In my current show, the publicity openly calls me a GILF -- the grandmother everyone would like to fuck. Beyond that, though, we’ve breaking ground about being frank that I’m going through menopause. I’m 56 years old and I’m still hot.

“Out of character, I look at you two, and others, and guess you’re half my age. That should just be a number to all of us, because we’re all consenting adults.

“Let me be absolutely out of character, and tell you some things that only my intimates need to know. I have a problem with pain on vaginal penetration, which is new, and for which I haven’t gotten a good workup. Frankly, when Abie told me about the scope of the Foundation program, I realized that I didn’t have GYN services that were sex-friendly, and I’m hoping I can have them here. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my libido, or even my ability to have fun with other than traditional fucking. My gay friends, after all, swear by oral and anal, and I’ve learned from them. To use the vernacular, ass fucking turns me on when done competently, and I can cum that way as well as manually or orally. It’s not unheard of that I can cum from tit play.”

I looked at her, with great respect. Without looking, I could feel the same admiration coming from Carol. “Alice, your words touched on quite a few of the dreams, aspirations, and goals of the Foundation. I am awed, and want to work together, towards sex-positivity.

“First, let me mention that those goals include supporting sexual health and function. Neither age nor disease should imply one’s sex life is over. Depending on how public you want your involvement with us to be, your public character should be a model for us.

“Second, to follow up on the age, while we don’t have a GILF, we do have two essential MILFs.” I thought for a moment. “One more is either a MILF or a Big Sister I’d Like To Fuck. Well, I have fucked Marie. This language, and age discrimination, does get silly. Do be assured that I would be delighted to fuck you in any comfortable way, and assist in getting around any fucking limitations.

“Usually, in a first encounter here, we head for the hot tub to relax with one another, before heading into the bedroom. If you understand, and I think you will, I’m already relaxed with you, and simultaneously in lust with you. We just might do the water ritual later.”

As I spoke, Carol had pressed herself warmly against me. Had she had a different cultural background, she might have been shouting “Amen!” to some of Alice’s views. Failing that, I heard little hums and grunts of approval. She chucked, “While I’m only 5’8”, I’d like to form the Tall Women Who Like High Heels club, with you as the first president.”

“Could you have a men’s auxiliary? I’ll join.”

It was the mark of a mature actress, I suppose, that Alice managed a sound that simultaneously conveyed amusement, approval, and arousal. She reached into her bag, pulled out what looked like six-inch pumps, and replaced her already high street shoes, licking her lips as she did so, and looking into our faces.

She stood, with immense grace. I’m surrounded by dancers every day, but her movement was exceptional. It struck me that it flowed from her neck to back to hips to legs, in a way that I wasn’t sure I could name, but seemed immune to the interference of joints.

“The roles that I play are sexy, intelligent, and disciplined women. Too many men assume that women go only for bad boys, where what it is for me is that I take inspiration from bad boys, and leave them behind. That doesn’t stop me from being a bad girl, at least where it’s useful. I like Halloween because it’s the one time that a tall woman can wear a micro and killer heels, and be approved of. Now, I do have something of a personal song, which gets me into bad girl mode. Carol, get bad with me!” She began to chant the lyrics of a Ronny Jordan song, The Jackal.