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Byron’s hackles were up – he had never in his life seen an elder so rudely treated by her family.
Sunday noon in San Diego, at a large, inexpensive “soup-salad-bread” restaurant, he was sitting alone in one of the big horseshoe-shaped booths, dressed in shorts, running shoes, and the tee-shirt from the morning’s 10k race. His flight back to the east coast wasn’t until late Monday afternoon, so he’d entered for the exercise, run a decent pace. And was now ravenous.
He had just opened his menu when the family entered – boisterous, argumentative, and radiating ill-concealed animosities and tensions. Several kids, mostly girls. Multiple generations.
The man was short, seriously overweight, nearly bald, red-faced and belligerent, ordering the others about mercilessly.
The end result, unbelievable to Byron, was Grandma (perhaps Great-Gram?) being relegated to sitting by herself in the booth next to the family. Grandma looked both resigned and upset. And lonely. But she bore the situation with something like good grace – far better self-control than Byron would have been capable of!
A waiter brought menus to the mob. Byron studied the group discreetly over the top of his own menu, but most particularly ‘Grandma’. Now SHE was ignoring the rowdy bunch. Quite bluntly.
“‘Good for you!”‘ he thought, studying her. She was, in fact, the only interesting-looking person in the swarm – maybe they were excluding her for THAT?
She verged on elegant: medium height, both slender and quite busty (in a semi-secret, discreetly-hidden way, rather ala QE-II) and ramrod straight. Even from twenty feet away her skin looked like parchment, almost transparent but smooth rather than crevassed, and her hands didn’t have an “ancient withered rose” look. No old-lady simian vertical lines in her upper lip – in fact, she had pretty white teeth and rather full lips.
She must have been a real beauty in her heyday. Today, she was undoubtedly over seventy, but whether just seventy or an extremely well preserved eighty was moot, although odds were bound to favor the younger. Still genuinely pretty, too – striking dead-white hair done up in a tight bun, held with a single lacquered chopstick. No old-woman’s makeup – not even nail polish, no rouge, no lipstick. Single strand of pearls, a dark navy blouse and white pleated skirt that looked as if it really ought to be out of place on her, but somehow wasn’t.
Shapely calves, and what appeared (in the few seconds he’d had to watch her stride across the restaurant) to be a solid and well-exercised body. Certainly no great breadth of hips, nor over-thickness at the waist. Unlike the woman who was obviously her daughter – details of facial substructure proved it. And THAT woman looked to be actual “Grandma”, hence the excludee, pariah for whatever stupid reason, must be Great Grandmom. “Not THAT’s an impressive woman!” he thought.
It truly pained him to see anyone ostracized like that, but especially such a distinguished, attractive older woman. When she had had a few seconds with her menu, he impulsively stood, pulled his wallet out and extracted a business card. “What the hell,” he thought, “…an adventure.”
He stepped up to her table: the family chatter next door ceased abruptly as they all stared at him. He gave the entire family one slow, sweeping, glacially disdainful look, and then utterly ignored them – they might as well have been on the dark side of the moon. And they knew it.
She looked up, surprised, then puzzled, but interested. He handed her his card, said “Pardon me… but we both seem to be dining alone, and I was wondering if you’d mind my introducing myself, and inviting you to take lunch with me. As my guest. I’m Byron – I’m an oceanographer, just visiting from the east coast. I’d greatly enjoy your company, if you’re free.”
One of the older kids blurted “She’s not alone, she’s with US!”
Byron glanced at the speaker, said quietly, “I completely disagree, Miss. She is quite alone in here.” He returned his gaze to Grandma.
The Man’s jaw worked as if talking, but no sounds issued. His face reddened even more.
“There!” thought Byron – “Fuck the fucking fucker!” and kept his full attention squarely on the lady.
She looked at him with the most astonished expression, which slowly morphed into a sly, self-confident smile. She studied the card for a second, then extended a hand, shook his, and said “What a perfectly lovely idea! I’d be delighted, Doctor Byron the Oceanographer. I’m Theo. Doctor Theo, MD, retired. And I most certainly do accept your offer!”
He helped her rise: the whole family was gob-smacked into staring silence. The man sputtered, as if to start saying something, but at the last moment gave it up, glaring futile daggers at Byron. There was something approaching frank admiration on several of the female faces – perhaps even envy? One of the sub-teen girls giggled, “Hey! Our Great Grandma has a DATE, you guys!”
Byron escorted canlı bahis Theo to his table, seating her so she didn’t have to receive more of the baleful familial stares: personally, he would find it exquisitely easy to ignore the whole damned little zoo.
He retrieved her menu, handed it to her. She smiled at him – and was every bit as pretty up close – even better, actually.
“Interesting situation you found yourself in, M’Lady Theo.”
She smiled again, sighed, shrugged. “My daughter’s choice of husband, not mine. That man – loosely speaking – certainly rates several British adjectives that we in the USA don’t use nearly often enough – boor, cretin, and martinet among them. Plus of course the ubiquitous ‘flaming asshole'”.
“But enough of that unpleasantness!” She loosed her first unconstrained smile, and it dazzled him. “I certainly do appreciate your riding to my rescue, mister doctor White Knight Byron. It was very kind, and frankly quite an astounding intervention. Tres gallant! And now, sir, sitting at table with you, I find myself in yet another ‘interesting situation’ as you put it. But I infinitely prefer this one to that! It has indeed been a long time since I’ve been ‘on a date’ as the girl put it. A whizzer idea, too!”
She patted him briefly on the arm, then scanned him, read the tee-shirt: “Goodness – if you ran that thing this morning, you must be ravenous. We’d better get our order in the queue.” She sighed, “You do have a nice runner’s body. So did I, back a ways. That is to say, quite a ways! But I still do my yoga and the gym. Now, what to eat?”
With parallel backgrounds in biology, plus an obvious instant mutual attraction that puzzled each privately, they found one another amazingly compatible – the conversation was fast, covered enormous ground in very little time, and was densely larded with innuendo and puns. Each quickly managed to one-up the other several times, to the foil’s delight.
By the end of the main course they were knee-touching beneath the table. Plus she was frequently patting his arm and holding his hand momentarily to emphasize some talking-point, her eyes sparkling. The first knee-touch was (perhaps?) accidental, followed quickly by semi-permanent contact: shortly, Theo winked at him and muttered “God but aren’t we being fresh with one another!? Physically, too! You are a very strange man, Doctor Byron. But I like it.”
It had been decades since she’d had this much attention from such an attractive (and so much younger!) man. Byron, while thoroughly enjoying Theo’s company, also kept a sly watch on her familial herd – the younger girls were overtly watching their tête-à-tête, and were clearly fascinated by seeing their ancient ancestor so engaged by an unknown man less than half her age, perhaps only a third of it. The Man was not amused at all, grumping at food, service, and company indiscriminately. His wife cast their way only an occasional sidelong glance, one of which Byron intercepted: she looked embarrassed, almost fearful, and her gaze darted away.
The conversation included mutual explanations – Byron’s trip brought him to town for a long scientific conference now completed. He’d lived in the area for many years two decades ago, and would be returning home –now the east coast- on a late flight tomorrow afternoon. Not an unusual junket – his science brought him hither several times per year.
Theo had lived in the city most of her life, been a successful MD, then moved into admin and wound up as the institution’s director, from which she’d retired to her nearby condo some years ago.
As they contemplated dessert, she asked, very casually, whether he was actually free for the rest of the afternoon? She did have an ulterior motive in asking, she explained – she was thoroughly taken with the company, had no Sunday social obligations, would love to take Byron on a stroll around the small lake at her condo –- if, of course, he wasn’t too tired after the morning’s run. Perhaps it could be a warm-down? But that would require imposing on him for a ride home after they’d finished this impromptu and unexpectedly nice lunch date. She’d arrived in the family’s van, but she could – if Byron were willing – simply tell them to ‘Bugger off and leave me with my new friend’. Would he be interested?
He was both interested and available. In fact, he thought it a marvelous plan. Meanwhile – back to dessert, which he was going to insist upon – so long as it included plenty of dark chocolate.
Theodora’s pack ate rather like wolves in midwinter, plowed through “free seconds”, then finished dessert just when Byron and Theo were contemplating ordering theirs.
The pack’s desserts were quickly downed, and there arose from the family a clamor to leave. The Man stood, intruded himself awkwardly into Theo and Byron’s space, brayed about leaving right now, dammit, his body-language ruder than his speech.
Byron silenced him quite effectively with a look retained bahis siteleri from his time in the Marines and studying karate.
Theo almost giggled, then took the initiative, held up a hand to deflect the Man’s chatter, and told him “Doctor Byron, here, has volunteered to give me a ride to my condo when we do finish – which is likely to take a good while, because we intend to spend some time on our desserts, and are just beginning to contemplate the dessert menu. So you folks go on ahead… all of you are in such a terrific lather to get going – a rush which we two most certainly do NOT share.”
“Besides…” she continued, “…you’d just have to go out of your way to drop me off at home, anyhow, so this will save you that inconvenience. My new friend Doctor Byron has nothing on his schedule until a flight home late tomorrow, and in case you all haven’t noticed, I retired some years ago, and my personal calendar is uncluttered to say the least.”
She reached for Byron’s hand, blatantly squeezed it. “In addition to which, after we finish lunch I’ve volunteered to take Doctor Byron for a walk, perhaps even a beer or two, after which HE has volunteered to get me safely back to my little condo. I’m a big girl now, I can take care of myself. You all go on back to the mansion – there’ll be more room in the van for you this way. Maybe I’ll call you later from my place. Now y’all GIT!”
Into the ensuing blissful silence Theo said “Isn’t it wonderful what repeated use of “Doctor” can accomplish? And good GOD, that first look you gave Harold would have shriveled any living thing within range! I’ve NEVER seen anyone shut that man up so completely. Well done!”
Dessert was a shared pair – chocolate mousse and lime crème brulé, which they wound up spoon-feeding to one another whilst pretending not to notice an occasional amused look darted their way by other customers. Byron absolutely refused to let Theo help with the tab – after all, it was his idea, his invitation.
He led her to his rental car, arms linked at her initiative. It was instantly comfortable walking along together, hips gently bumping. His biceps and forearm received pressures and strokings which proved beyond a doubt that she still carried a well-developed chest – no atrophy detectable.
She gave directions to the condo – which was NOT (she insisted) an “assisted living” community, she took care of both it and herself by herself – she even owned and occasionally used a hammer and suchlike. It was only a few miles away, a good sized manmade lake surrounded by amenity buildings and five-story condos, all quite attractive.
Enroute, conversation took a turn when Byron said “Interesting name, Theodora. Unusual these days. Do you know who the historic Theodora was?”
“Sure – she was the wife of one of the last roman emperors. Mrs Justinian.”
Byron grinned at her – he was a history buff, and if there existed trivia – particularly sexual – about any historical figure, he was sure to know them. “Yeah… and renowned as one of the most sexually accomplished and sexually voracious women in all of recorded history! She left a detailed record, a first-personal history of her sex-life, which started at about age seven. The account embarrassed the Papacy so badly that they buried it in the Vatican archives for over a thousand years. But they didn’t destroy it, and now it’s available in paperback. I’m sure she would be proud!”
Theo went slightly pink, laughed, then shrugged and said gamely “I didn’t know THAT about her. Some namesake! My parents were prudes – if they’d known, they’d never have given it to me.”
Byron reached over and squeezed her hand: “Who knows? Perhaps in private they were anything but prudes. Maybe they knew all about Miz T’s shenanigans, and opted for the name as an inside joke? Certainly is possible! Anyhow, Theodora apparently complained rather loudly and publicly about Mother Nature being so stingy as to grant to womankind only three orifices by which to be satisfied.”
Theo went bright pink, looked away for a moment, then back to catch his eye. “Ummm. I’ll bet it sounds very erudite when said in Latin! Can’t you imagine a second-year high-school Latin class given THAT to parse!? What a riot there’d be!” She emitted a very teenager-ish giggle that momentarily relieved her of several decades, many of which failed to settle back into place. She realized that she was going to have to respond with equal bluntness and intensity. She was up to the task. “I suspect the Empress might have been a bit jaundiced – but really, in some ways Mother Nature didn’t do too bad a job. I always used to find those three quite sufficient – assuming they were properly serviced by an enthusiastic, experienced, capable and considerate man. One really does need all four attributes, you know.”
Byron grinned, glanced at her and then returned to driving, went serious. “Used to?” he asked, quietly.
Theo thought for some seconds, waited bahis şirketleri to speak until he’d finished navigating a busy intersection. “Interesting how we got to this topic so quickly, isn’t it? It seems neither of us is going to allow the other to be shy! Here’s my view, for what it’s worth. Mother Nature’s one of those give-with-one whilst taking-with-the-other creatures. Just about the time a woman reaches some sort of true maturity, has really learnt about sex and sensuality and how to operate her own body and those of her men…”
The plural wasn’t lost on Byron, who nodded and smiled to let her know he’d caught it.
“…Well, right about then Mommy N yanks M’Lady’s looks, makes all the physical stuff go saggy-baggy, and starts to chop down the available men… while not doing anything to decrease her now-inflated libido.”
“So when the woman is REALLY at her peak in terms of desire and experience and ability, she has almost no available partners. Precious few thirty- or forty-year-old men are interested in a woman of say sixty or seventy – much less one older than that. Which I most certainly am! And even fewer men of her own age remain both capable and available. A lousy situation. Mother N sure can be a bitch!”
She sighed and shrugged while holding Byron’s gaze firmly in her own. “Frankly, it’s been well over a decade for me now. I’m afraid that I – and all my equally-aged friends – pretty much gave up years ago. But the whole idea, and the memories, make for lovely daydreams. Night dreams, too.”
She indicated a parking slot: he pulled in. They sat for a moment looking slightly awkwardly at one another across the front console, until she laughed and said “This FEELS like being back in high-school, and wondering if he – or she- is EVER going to get on with it and kiss you! Maybe later? If you’re not averse to kissing ladies two or three times your age. But I flatter myself unduly. My condo’s on three, up there.”
She pointed. “How about a slow tour around the lake, after which I might just invite you up for a glass of wine, or even a good beer. I have a small but nice collection, of which my daughter roundly disapproves.”
They strolled comfortably, chatting, alone on the path. After a hundred yards, Byron wrapped an arm around her shoulders: she looked up at him briefly, then settled against him, thinking “This is ridiculous… but nice! And any minute now I’m going to begin to shiver – it’s not the least bit chilly, either!”
Another hundred yards, and they stopped to watch a duck with ducklings paddle through the reeds. As they stood there hip to hip, Byron took her hand firmly in his, discovered that she was trembling. He turned to face her, put both arms around her, and she instantly buried her face against his shoulder. Her boobs were surprisingly solid as they pressed against his lower ribcage.
Into his shoulder she muttered “Doctor Byron… there’s something I would very much like to do, but I’m terrified of rejection. And I also don’t know quite how to proceed in any genteel fashion, since it’s not part of my normal mode of behavior.”
She snuffled against him, wrapped her arms about him, squeezed.
Byron was startled, then immensely pleased. He peeled her gently off his chest, took her head in his hands and after a moment’s eye-locked hesitation during which permission was requested and granted in perfect silence, he kissed her with a depth of feeling and enthusiasm that astounded them both. Their reactions were swift, if hidden: his cock took full notice and began to swell, and deep in her belly an urgent churning began.
The kiss lasted past the two minute mark before they broke. Theo emerged from it stunned into momentary silence, flushed, nonplussed, and absolutely glowing. And determined. “Oh, my. I certainly am glad there’s nobody else on this path! My-oh-my, yes indeed.” She took his hand, wrapped his arm around her shoulder again, set them back on the path.
As they walked, she laid her head against his shoulder and took a long, deep breath, then said very softly, “Byron – what I want most in all the world right now is to lead you upstairs and into my condo. And once there, we could have that glass of wine…” She stopped the stroll, paused, looked straight into him, and whispered hesitantly “That is, IF you happen to be interested and truly have the time.”
He looked about – they were still completely alone – and laid her hand squarely atop his crotch: her eyes widened -he was now totally hard. She developed a shocked but very pleased grin when he said “I assume you’re worried about rejection… now tell me, Madam, does THAT feel like some sort of incipient rejection? You are an extraordinarily sexy woman, you turn me on instantly, I don’t give a tinker’s damn about our ages, and I find you deeply attractive in whole slew of ways.”
She looked deep into him, but without moving her hand: “What about my – shall we say, total lack of recent experience? Not to mention the significantly decrepit packaging? I’m very, very worried about that.”
He snorted, slipped a hand beneath her boob to cup it lovingly, was pleased when she nestled into it rather than rejecting the advance.
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