Richard
It was a freezing, rain-soaked night in December. I hurried into the navy-blue minivan, where my wife, son, and twin girls were already waiting—laughing at how close I’d come to wiping out on the driveway.

We were heading to a friend’s place for a Christmas party. Same tradition every year.

My wife was mid-sentence, talking about our March trip to Mexico, when the tyres hit black ice.

After that—nothing clean. Just fragments. The wheel jerking in my hands. The van spinning.

Weightlessness. Then metal folding in on itself as we flipped into the intersection.

The truck that hit us never had a chance to stop.

When I woke up in the hospital, everything that mattered was gone.

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Two years later

Richard
I bent over, hands on my knees, lungs still burning from the last rally of our usual squash match.
“That rally just wouldn’t die,” Harry said, grinning. “And that last shot? Brutal, Richie.”

I let out a breath, half-laughing. Harry was pushing fifty-five—fifteen years older than me—but he’d been playing twice as long.

“You took the first two games,” I said. “Figured I should at least make it look competitive.”

We bumped fists and walked toward the glass door, an Asian couple already waiting for the court.

Harry hesitated a second. “So… how are things?”

I glanced at him. “That vague, huh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… you seeing anyone?”

I snorted. “I’m forty, Harry. Not exactly prime market in this city.”

He shook his head. “You talk like you’re ancient. You’re in good shape, and—” he squinted at me “—you’re only mildly ugly.”

I tossed the towel at him. “Still better looking than you,” I shot back.

He caught it but didn’t smile this time. “I’m serious, Rich. You need to get back out there. You’ve got a lot of life left—and it’s easier with someone.”

My chest tightened. I used to have someone.

The thought came sharp, edged with bitterness. Two years on, the pain had dulled—but only just. Therapy helped. So did work. The gym. Fishing. Even the occasional paid distraction. Enough to keep things moving. Not enough to fix anything.
I kept it off my face.

Gave him a small, knowing smile instead. “You’re right. I’ll fire up the apps, see what’s out there.”

It was a lie. I had no interest in wading through catfish, scammers, and people pretending to be something they weren’t.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, man. Go out. Bar, club—whatever. Even if nothing happens, at least you talk to someone.”

His accent slipped through more when he pushed a point. I found myself smiling.
I considered it. One drink. Maybe two. Say hello to someone. No pressure.

Why not. “Yeah,” I said. “Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

He grinned, as he’d finally gotten through to me. We said our goodbyes, and I headed home—to my three-bedroom place in one of Toronto’s quieter, expensive neighborhoods.

The shower ran hot. I stood under it longer than I needed to, letting it beat against my shoulders. Tried not to think about the last time I’d stood there with her.

I failed.

I shut the water off and stepped out, drying myself slowly. The mirror fogged over, and I wiped a clear patch across it.
Two years ago, I’d been soft. Fifteen kilos heavier. Whatever shape I’d had in my twenties long gone.

Now? I looked… good. Lean. Defined. Not massive, not trying to be—but solid. The kind of shape that came from showing up every day.

I ran a hand over my stomach, brushing the lines of a half-formed six-pack. There was pride in that.

And guilt.

I should’ve been this man for her. I stood there, the best physical version of myself in decades, and all I wished was that I could’ve been like this for her.

I exhaled, long and slow. It wasn’t that simple. Grief had driven everything—into work, into routine, into anything that kept my mind from circling back.

Work. Gym. Writing.

Stay moving... or drown.

For a second, I considered skipping the night out. But I’d already lost enough time.

I dressed—I decided to go with a casual suit—and ran a hand through my hair, getting it to sit just right.

I picked up my phone to search for some spots when it buzzed; it was a text message from Harry.

Harry: Go to Midnight Sapphire on King West—John’s kid’s bartending.

I smirked and texted back. "Got it, thanks."

Keys in hand, I stepped out and slid into my Mustang. Two doors. Fewer empty seats that were empty…

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the gnawing emptiness and turned the key. The engine roared to life, drowning out the quiet.

An indie track blasted through the speakers as I pulled onto the road, heading downtown.

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Sera
I sat at the bar, tapping my lacquered nails on the shiny bar counter. The young, cute bartender smiled at me in sympathy as he slid over my martini. I gave him a half smile in thanks.

My Tinder date was already 20 minutes late. The blue light from my iPhone illuminated my face as I opened the app and messaged him again. My messages showed as delivered, but no response.

I sighed. I fucking hate dating. I thought loudly in frustration.

Switching over to my messaging app, I texted Becca, my best friend and roommate.

Me: Looks like my date is stiffing me.

She replied instantly, putting a smile on my face.

Becca: All ready? That was quick. How’s his dick?

I shook my head in amusement as I typed my reply.

Me: No, u hoe. He’s a no-show.

Becca: What a loser. U gonna leave? Should I meet you?

I took a sip of my martini and looked around, mulling over my friend’s question. The place was pretty busy, and I had already declined a few offers from guys who wanted to buy me a drink. My responses at the time were automatic, as I was waiting for a date after all. My eyes focused on a tall man in a well-fitted casual suit. He was older, better dressed, and there was something about him that made him stand out from the other men in the bar.

I raised an eyebrow when I saw him greet the young bartender, not like friends, but more like family. He was close enough for me to overhear the conversation, and my initial hunch was correct.

“Uncle Rich, what are you doing here?” The bartender said.

The older man smiled, his trimmed salt-and-pepper beard elegantly framing a handsome jaw.

“Hey Tommy, just getting out a bit. Harry told me you worked here, so I figured I'd give this place a go,” the man named Uncle Rich replied in a thick, manly voice that made arousal stir in my stomach.

God, he has a hot voice. I thought to myself.

My eyes shifted to the bartender who smiled… lovingly at this man… father figure, I just realized.

“That’s good! Can I get you something?” Tommy replied.

The older man turned his head slightly, and we made eye contact. Pale green eyes stared deep into my own. He was handsome, all right, with a full head of black hair, slight olive-brown skin, and a chiseled jaw.

The silver streaks in his beard and sideburns indicated he was older; by how much, it was hard to guess. He was in shape, and the casual jacket and tightish pants looked great on him.

I smiled at him, and he smiled back. There was a definite moment there between us. I felt my cheeks redden as his eyes traced down my body in obvious admiration.

I was busy inspecting him myself when I felt my phone buzz; it was Becca.

Becca: ???

Me: I think I’m gonna stay. I just shared a look with a hot older guy.

Becca: Yes! Tell me how it goes! Alexi just arrived. She finished with a kissing emoji.

I was about to type a response when I felt a presence at my back and side, interrupting my thought process. I instinctively reached to move my drink as a man in a navy-blue suit seemed to slightly lose his footing and bump into me.

My hand missed my martini glass, and I was about to give the guy a mouthful before he apologized.

“Oh fuck, sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s ok, just be more careful”, I replied in a polite but dismissive way.

The guy looked like he wanted to say something, but I turned my attention back to the reason for my text. I blushed with surprise as “Uncle Rich” sat in the seat next to me. Closer to me as he was, his size compared to me became more apparent. He was easily six-two or six-three.

He smiled at me; his eyes fixed on mine. Showing a sense of maturity in control, as his eyes did not dwell on my very purposefully exposed cleavage.

“Do you mind if I join you?” His voice was that sexy deep voice that spoke with a confidence and surety only really found in men with achievements to back it up.

I smiled, shaking my head. “Not all, all.”

He pulled the stool back without looking away and then, once seated, he introduced himself. “Good evening, I’m Richard.”

I smiled coyly. “Not Uncle Rich?”

He chuckled, “You overheard us, did you… Well, Tommy’s my nephew. And I think I would’ve noticed if I had a niece as beautiful as you. So, I think we can stick to Richard.”

I smiled at his playfulness and raised my hand. “Fair enough, I’m Sera.”

He took my hand gently; his big hands weren’t rough, but not overtly soft either. A man who used his hands on hobbies, not work.

He smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you, Sera.”

Our introduction was interrupted by the bartender sliding a draft beer over to his uncle.

“Thanks, Tommy,” his voice easy as he returned his focus to me.

“So, what are we toasting to?” I asked.

He thought for a moment before answering. “New beginnings.”

I nodded. “We can always have more of those.” Raising my glass, I proclaimed, “To new beginnings.”

He lifted his glass in reply, and we both took a sip of our respective drinks.

He looked at me thoughtfully before asking, “So, Sera.” I loved the way he said my name. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar?”
I cocked a brow. “Who says I’m alone?”

He chuckled, “Besides the empty seats next to you and no other man coming to claim you from my attention… Tommy told me.”

I gave the bartender an eye, which he never saw as he was already busy helping another group of customers. I turned my eyes back on the gorgeous older man.

“So, I have your attention? That’s nice.” I teased.

I was rewarded with a wicked grin. “You have every ounce of it. I can't thing of anyone more deserving of my attention right now.”

I leaned in. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you are unmistakably and universally a beautiful woman. But you knew that.” I quipped.

I shrugged my shoulders to acquiesce. It was true, although it felt unbelievably good to hear him say it.

“But more importantly, at least to my own motivations, you returned my interest.” As he spoke, it seemed like a British accent bleeding through his previous very regular North American accent.

I took another sip of my drink and nodded in agreement. “All very fair points. Well, you are correct. I was alone before you so graciously joined me. I was, as Tommy might have told you, expecting a date. Alas, I believe he has made other plans.”

He smiled and raised a brow. “What could possibly be more interesting than sitting here with you?”

She laughed. “You’d have to ask him. Most likely he was hedging his bets and is now spending his time with one of the other girls he was talking to on Tinder.”

Richard frowned slightly.

“What is it?” I asked, foolishly worrying I said something wrong.”

He shook his head with a smile. “Was I so transparent? I am not a fan of dating apps. I can’t say that I have had any success with it myself.”

I gave him a questioning look. “Really? You? I would guess you would get a lot of attention.”

“Is that so? I must be doing it wrong. You must tell me how it’s done.” He said, his accent very strong now.

I laughed. “Well, I’ll need to think about it.”

“Really, are your Tinder dating skills so high in demand?” He teased.

I held a finger up. “It is a question of motivation, sir,” I replied, adding a mock English accent.

He leaned in as I took another sip. My head was already starting to spin from the cocktail. His voice echoed in my head. “And what is it that motivates your hesitation when discussing your tutelage in the arts of Tinder profiles?”

I laughed, a little too hard; the drink really was getting to me. “I would need to think about whether I want other women to know about you.”

He smiled devilishly. “If that is the case, then I shall proceed to dissuade you from any and all Tinder instruction.”

I giggled and swallowed as I felt dizzy. It was getting harder to follow the conversation. “Well I… I… wh—”
The word slipped away from me. Everything was… slow. Thick. Wrong.

Richard frowned immediately. “Sera?”

I blinked at him, trying to focus. “I’m… s’rry… I jus’—my head…”

The bar seemed to sway, like I was on a boat. My grip on the glass loosened, fingers clumsy. He caught it before it fell, his other hand already on my shoulder. “Hey—look at me. Stay with me.”

I tried. God, I tried. But his face kept drifting in and out, like I couldn’t quite lock onto it.

“Did you drink something?” he asked, urgency creeping into his voice.

“I… I don’…”

My knees buckled, and suddenly I was falling—but he was there, arms catching me, his face close, tense, worried, his voice distant now—
“Sera!”

And then nothing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Richard
Looking back, it almost seemed too perfect. I arrived on a whim, met an incredible woman by complete chance, and within minutes we were talking as though we'd known each other for years. The chemistry was undeniable, the conversation effortless, and the evening had all the makings of a memorable first meeting. Then Sera started slurring her words.

“Did you drink something?” I asked, urgency creeping into my voice.

“I… I don’…” Her knees buckled, and she collapsed into my arms.

“Sera!” I shouted as Tommy moved over to our section of the bar.

“What’s up with her?” he asked.

I looked at him. “I don’t know. I think she’s been drugged.”

I looked up as the guy who bumped into her earlier came over. “Looks like she's at it again. I better take her.”

I looked at the man and instantly took a dislike to him. He inferred that he knew her, which appeared weird as they barely interacted previously. I quickly thought of a way to test this man’s claim.

“How do you know Rachel?” I said.

“Ah, we’re roommates,” he said, reaching for her.

I growled as I put myself between her and this asshole. “Her name is Sera, wise ass.”

I turned to the bar, ignoring the other man's stammers. “Tommy, how many drinks has she had?”

The young man looked at me in alarm. “Only one, a regular martini.”

“Call the cops. She’s been drugged. Give them my details and tell them I took her to St. Mike’s.” I replied, authority in my voice. I looked at the other man. “And make sure this one doesn’t leave.”

The guy backed off. “I don’t need this shit. This place blows, I’m leaving.”

He bumped into the six-four frame of the bouncer. Whose deep voice and heavy hand on the man’s shoulder said otherwise. “You’re staying right here, sir.”

I did not care for the rest of the interaction; my only thoughts were for the poor girl— passed out in my arms. I looked at Sera, her revealing dress threatening to expose more than she probably intended. I took off my jacket and wrapped her upper body with it, to vastly improve her modesty.

I pulled her into a fireman’s carry and looked at Tommy, who gave me a nod that he would do his part. I left with her in my arms.

The hospital was close, and in less than half an hour she was processed into the ER. I was outside in the waiting area holding her small designer handbag. I heard the ring of a cellphone and opened the bag to see the latest iPhone with the name Becca, lighting up the screen.

I answered, “Hello, Sera’s phone.”

There was a pause before an assertive feminine voice came over the line, “Who’s this? Where is Sera?”

The concern in her voice allowed me to believe this was a friend. “This is Richard Price. I was at the bar with Sera when she passed out. I believe she has been drugged. I have taken her to St. Michael’s Hospital, and she’s in the ER receiving care right now.”

Becca gasped over the phone line. “Are you serious? Oh my god! Please… I’ll be there in 30 minutes… oh shit, Sera.”

I tried to assuage her, “Sure, I’ll be here.”

“Ok ok… see you then.” The line went dead.

A few moments later, my phone rang; this time, it was Tommy.

“Uncle Rich, the cops are here. They are asking to speak to you,” he said in a frazzled tone.

“Sure, put them on.”

A moment later, a man’s gruff voice came over the line, “Is this Richard Price?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“We understand you took the young woman… Sera, to St Michael’s Hospital?”

“Yes, sir. Sera De Vries, she has been admitted and is being seen to by the ER doctors. I am sitting outside the ER with her belongings. A friend called her phone and is on her way.” I replied. Offering up information.

The officer paused, possibly writing down the info. “Thank you, sir. An officer will be over shortly to take your statement. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else you need to know?” I asked.

“No, all questions will be done in person. The officer should be there in a couple of minutes.”

Two cops did arrive roughly five minutes later, and I had about finished giving them my testimony when an attractive redhead arrived with a frantic look on her face. We made eye contact, and she noticed the bag I was holding.

She was wearing a pair of tight black leather pants, a purple crop top and a stylish black leather jacket. She was every bit as hot as her friend, although maybe with a bit more curves, but every bit as fit as well.

She approached me and asked, “You Richard?”

I nodded and handed over Sera’s bag. “Yes. You must be Becca?”

She nodded curtly. “What the fuck happened?”

I decided to ignore the accusatory tone in her voice. “We had been chatting for a short while. Still busy with first drinks, when she started slurring her words and then passed out. She only had one drink, so I thought she must’ve been drugged.”

She held her hand over her mouth in shock. “Oh my god. What the fuck is wrong with men!” She looked at me in chagrin. “No offence.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m with you. Gotta be a particular piece of shit to pull that.”

She assessed me for a moment. “The people at the bar just let you take Sera?”

I understood her concern. “I know the bartender. I told him to call the cops and provide my details. Hence why they were talking to me just a moment ago. I figured, better to get her to the ER quick.”

She gave me a skeptical look. “Right. When did you get here?”

I nodded at her question. “About ten to fifteen minutes after we left the bar. They took her in a wheelchair pretty much as soon as we arrived.  I stayed with the nurse to book her in. Um… I had to open her purse to get her medical card. Did not touch anything else, besides the phone when you called.”

I could see her do the math in her head, “Yeah, ten minutes would be a rush to get here.”

She stepped closer with a dark expression. “If I find out you fucked with her while she was unconscious, cops will be the last thing you need to worry about.”

I held up my hands, “Hey, I understand. I have a sister and I… I had daughters. I would castrate myself before doing something so fucked up.”

She seemed to soften her attitude at that. “Well… ok. You said you HAD daughters, what happened to them?”

I jerked at the question, closing my eyes and sighing.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business,” she apologized.

I held up a hand placatingly as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I responded with a tired rasp, “It’s ok. They were twins… they died in a car crash… with my wife and their older brother… it was a couple of years ago.”

She looked at me with obvious shock. “Wow… that’s… that’s fucked up.”

I sighed again. “Yes, yes, it is.”

She looked at me with a thoughtful expression. “I was wondering why a guy like you would be hanging out at a place like Sapphire. Trying to move on, huh? Get back into the game?”

“Something like that…” My reply was interrupted by a doctor approaching us.

“Are you Richard Price?” The female doctor asked.

“Yes, I brought in a woman called Sera De Vries. How is she?” I asked.

“She’s awake; it was a high dose of Rohypnol. We administered flumazenil and successfully revived her. We contacted her emergency contact; she should be here soon.” The doctor replied.

Becca raised her hand slightly. “That’s me.”

The redhead looked at me. “The hospital called me shortly after we talked.”

The doctor nodded. “You can come see her if you want.”

The doctor held out my jacket. “Here, this is yours, right?”

I took the proffered item. “Oh yes, thanks.”

Becca gave me a thoughtful look before following the doctor.

“Wait,” I said, handing her my business card. “If Sera has any questions about what happened, she can reach me with that.”

She took the card and read out the details: “Richard Price, CEO and Owner… Beskar Manufacturing Ltd.”

She held the card. “Sure thing, Richard… and uh, thanks for looking out for my friend.”

I smiled and nodded. Not really knowing what to say.

I watched them go, Becca looking back at me over her shoulder before entering the ER. I rubbed the back of my neck, the emotional exhaustion taking its toll.

“What a fucking night,” I cursed silently as I turned to leave.

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Sera

“What a fucking night,” I cursed as I walked out of the ER, with Becca at my side. I had been held for observation for several hours, and it was nearing dawn when we eventually left.

“You were lucky, girl. You could’ve ended up in an alleyway with some creep doing… fuck! I don’t even want to think about it,” Becca replied, stifling a shiver.

A cold feeling of dread filled my chest at the thought. “I never asked you, who brought me to the hospital?”

My friend made the perfect “oh yeah” face before saying, “Right. He left his card. Richard something-something.”
I took the proffered card and read, Richard Price, CEO/Owner, Beskar Manufacturing Ltd.

I scrunched my brow in confusion, and then my eyes flew open in remembrance. “The hot older guy at the bar?”

Becca chuckled, “You mean Mr. tall, dark and gorgeous? Then yes.”

I looked at her as we headed to the TTC subway entrance. “Pale green eyes, black hair, olive skin?”

She nodded. “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner.”

“So, he took me to the hospital?” I asked again.

“Yup, apparently wrapped you up in his jacket and everything, real chivalrous.” She responded.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” I said, getting emotional. “I think I know who did it.”

“Did what?” Becca was on her phone.

“Drugged me, babe,” I replied, slightly irritated.

She caught my tone and looked up from her phone with realization. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, when I arrived, that Richard guy was talking to two cops about it.”

We arrived at the staircase leading to the subway platform.

“I should do something to say thanks,” I said thoughtfully, flipping the card in my finger. It was a very nice business card. My mind flickered to that meme about that American Psycho movie.

Becca looked at me with an accusatory smile. I looked back. “What?”

We stepped onto the subway platform.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, if you want a sugar daddy. Who am I to judge?”

I gently slapped her shoulder. “He’s only forty… and looking in damn good shape too.”

“That’s still a fifteen-year difference, Sera. He was getting ready to bang chicks when you were still in diapers.” She joked.

“I know,” I said embarrassingly, holding my hands to my face as I blushed. “But he’s so hot. And you should hear him talk… oh my gawd, he has the hottest deep voice, and I think he’s British," I gushed.

She looked surprised. “Are we talking about the same guy? He sounded very much like every other Toronto man. Although I do agree about his voice, it is hella sexy.”

I nodded in agreement. “It started out that way last night. But as he started chatting more, his accent started to bleed through. So was his way of speaking. He must have immigrated a while ago.”

Becca nodded at my logic, then seemed to remember something. “Oh btw, you should know something about him.”
I frowned. “What is it?” I said, slightly irritated that Becca knew something about this man that I did not.

“He’s a widower.”

I looked at her with wide eyes. “What? How do you know that?”

“It came up while we were talking. I was grilling him to make sure he did not mess with you while you were unconscious.”

“Becca!” I said accusingly.

She levelled me a look. “I’m protective, sue me. Anyway, he mentioned he has a sister and that he had daughters and would quote ‘castrate himself’ before doing shit like that. I asked him what he meant that he HAD daughters. It seems he lost his family in a car crash a couple of years ago. It seemed like it still affected him a little,” Becca said, in a way that basically said, 'He’s got baggage.'

I frowned. Toronto was the type of city that made a big deal about a tragedy like that. Typically, stuff like that was on the news for at least a week. I thought back and, for some reason, recalled something from a few years ago.

“Wasn’t there something on the news about that? Around Christmas or something two years ago?” I mused out loud.

“Yup, see.” Becca showed me her phone. “I searched for it while I was waiting for them to discharge you,” she said in response to my questioning look.

I took her phone and read the headline over a picture of police in winter gear around an unrecognizable wreck of a car. “Black Ice crash claims family of five, husband critical.”

I gasped.

“When I talked to him, he didn’t mention he was in the crash. You think he was drunk?” Becca said with a gossipy tone.

I shook my head. “He’d be in jail. That would be quadruple manslaughter. No, it says here he lost control on a patch of black ice… fuck, that sounds horrible.”

The train arrived, and we got on, taking a seat in one of the empty bunks.

Becca pulled up her phone out of habit, ready to doom scroll all the way to our home station. But then looked at me staring at the business card. “What are you thinking about?”

I thought about it. “I think I will give him a call tomorrow. To say thanks, maybe invite him to coffee. It’s the least I can do.”

She cocked her eyebrow. “So… the old ‘thanks for saving me from getting date-raped’ coffee?”

I gave her the look. “What? Is that weird?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just admit that you want to see him again.”

I felt my face heating up. “Fine! I want to see him again.”

Becca chuckled. “Oooooh, Sera after that daddy dick.”

I slapped her leg. “Becca, what the fuck?”

She shrugged. “Hey, if you’re not going to do it, then I’ll take his card.” She made a mock attempt at taking the card from my hand.

I held the card out of her playful reach. “Fuck off, bitch, I get first dibs,” I said playfully.

Becca sat back, and, with the most shit-eating grin, replied, "He's a big guy, nice and tall… big hands too… you know what they say about big hands.” She jested.

“I am aware,” I said, shaking my head. Then looked at her accusingly. “Aren’t you and Alexi still a thing?”

She shook her head. “We’re just FWB’s. Or more accurately, he helps me with content. We’re definitely not exclusive.”

I nodded. Alexi was Becca’s Ukrainian-Canadian boy toy. He was pretty good-looking and apparently had a decent cock.

That’s why when Becca said "content," she actually meant OnlyFans. Apparently, boy/girl content, or BG for short, sold better.

She had encouraged me to start my own account, saying it was where the real money was at, but I declined. Instead, I focused on promoting health and fitness products on my social media accounts. And the money was good enough for me to keep my clothes on.

It was nearing six AM when we reached the apartment, and we were exhausted, and both of us went to our rooms and went straight to bed.

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Richard

The next morning, I woke early. I groaned as I opened the covers and confirmed what my addled brain already knew. I ejaculated sometime during my sleep. Throughout the night, my dreams were filled with the images of the previous night, transforming into disjointed fantasies. Mostly involving having sex with Sera in various erotic positions. And at some point, her friend Becca joined in.

It was probably around this point that I blew my load, as I recall that part being particularly… stimulating.
It appeared my body was telling me that my long period of grief had run its course. I looked down at a large wet and sticky patch on my boxer-briefs, my cock still in a semi-erect state, seemingly unsatisfied and ready for me.

“Sorry buddy. I’m working on it.” I said, chuckling to myself.

I got out of bed and headed to grab a shower. Afterwards, I got dressed and changed my bedding, shoving it all into the washer and prepped my pre-workout drink, which was basically just a double espresso.

Grabbing my gym bag, left the house and walked the few blocks to the local gym.

I walked in and was greeted by a cute blonde female trainer named Cindy. She, like all the trainers at the gym, wore some type of shorts or leggings with a branded and fitted polo shirt. I almost took a double-take as I noticed her impressive cleavage peaking out from her neckline.

Did she always look like that? I thought to myself.

As I forced myself to keep eye contact, I greeted her. “Good morning, Cindy.”

She seemed surprised by my greeting. I wondered if I did something differently. And then I recalled it was the first time I addressed her by name.

“Oh, good morning, Mr. Price,” she replied, almost bouncing with a big friendly grin and a pair of jiggling tits I tried to ignore.

I smiled as I swiped my card and was about to continue into the gym when she spoke up. “I noticed you like using the pull bar section quite a bit. Management is planning on expanding the gym to include more options for body weight training, as it has become quite popular.”

I smiled. “That’s great. Do you know when it will be ready?”

“I think the plan is to have it done by spring next year,” she replied, eagerly.

I nodded. “Thanks, Cindy. Something to look forward to. You have a good one.”

“You too,” she replied as she moved to greet another member.

As I walked into the gym, I felt hyper aware of every attractive woman in the building. On several occasions, I had to stop myself from checking out all the hot gym-bunnies. It felt like there was a whole new clientele in the gym, but I knew I had just not noticed previously. I was kind of shocked how much I had been ignoring that side of me, like I had shoved my libido into a dungeon and thrown away the keys.

But now it had figuratively and physically broken out of the dungeon, and it was ravenous.

Doing my best to focus, I entered the locker room and changed into my standard shorts, sneakers and sleeveless tank top and headed to the stretching area. Putting in my Bluetooth earbuds, I cranked up Linkin Park’s original album, Hybrid Theory, and got to it.

Soon enough, I was working the pull-up bar section. I had gotten quite advanced and was able to manage extremely difficult pull-ups with either explosive execution or controlled movement for muscle stability.

This routine, along with leg weight training and some select upper body weight training, got me into really good functional shape. I had really been happy with how my body was turning out, and lifting my sweat-covered tank top to inspect my abs in the mirror, I heard a familiar feminine voice reach past my music.

“Richard! Okayyy, I see you—looking good, daddy.”

I pulled out my buds and saw Tina in the mirror.

She was a tight, 5ft4 Lebanese hottie. She was an atypically confident little Mediterranean girl with gorgeous wavy brunette hair, expressive amber colored eyes and distinct feminine features associated with people from that part of the world.

Today she was wearing those leggings which were all over influencer pagers, the ones which lifted the ass and created separation at the same time. Basically, gym thirst trap leggings. For her top, she wore a glorified sports bra that sat tight over a respectable set of sweater bunnies.

I had chatted with Tina before, mostly about gym stuff and regular conversations. So, we knew each other casually. For several months now, these interactions have gotten increasingly flirtatious, at least from her end. Even in my celibacy stupor, I still noticed them, but where it was previously easy to ignore or sidestep, at that moment, I was much more interested in playing along.

Last night had stirred something back to life in me—the thrill of the hunt—and I figured it might be time to stop sitting on the sidelines.

I gave her a slow, appreciative once-over. “Well, Tina… can’t lie, you’re looking pretty damn good yourself.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting that. She flicked her ponytail and tilted her head, lips curling into a grin. “Thanks, Rich—but it’s about time you noticed,” she said, a little saucy.

She stepped a bit closer, lowering her voice just enough. “I was starting to think you were, like… deliberately ignoring me or something.”

I chuckled. “Well, I am on the older side, and you’re what—twenty, twenty-two? Didn’t seem appropriate.” I lied.

She gave me a challenging look. “That’s cute. I’m twenty-four, actually. And I can decide what’s appropriate. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be flirting with you.”

You had to appreciate a woman who could be direct.

I chuckled. “Is that what's going on? Sorry for not paying attention before. I’d taken a bit of time off from… all that.”

She walked over to the machine I’d been using and leaned against it, which did interesting things to her cleavage. “Oh yeah? What changed?”

I looked at her, intrigued. “You actually interested, or just asking?”

She smiled. “Oh, now I have to know.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Well, if you have to know. A buddy of mine gave me the talk—told me to get back out there. So, I went out last night and met someone.”

Her eyes lit up. “Ooh—so you hooked up?”

I shook my head, amused. “No, nothing like that. Bit of drama, actually. Someone roofied her, and I ended up taking her to the hospital. I left my number with her friend, but who knows.”

She frowned. “And that got you back in the game? That sounds like the opposite.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I get that. But before she passed out, we really clicked. I liked it. Even if I never see her again, it kind of reset things for me. So… I’m back in the game, I guess.”

She nodded slowly. “Fair, fair. In that case, I can think of a few girls who’d love to hear that.”

I scoffed. “Like who?”

She gave me an incredulous look. “I get being modest, but like… be a little real with yourself.”

I had an idea what she meant, but I still wanted to hear it. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean, you’re hot. You’re what—six-two? Six-three? You’ve clearly got your shit together. That voice? Kinda unfair. And you’re in shape.” She smirked. “Honestly, Rich, you look like you walked off Too Hot To Handle.”

I recognized the name—a reality show about hot singles on an island trying not to hook up for a cash prize or whatever.
But I got her point. I was a catch. Forty or not, I was exactly what a lot of women were looking for—at least physically and financially. It wasn’t that I lacked confidence. I just hadn’t acted on it in a long time. Not like this. Not with the expectation of actually getting the girl I wanted.

I nodded. “Okay, fine. I’m a catch. Now what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Wow. You really are a little rusty.” She shook her head, but she was smiling.

“Alright. With girls like me—the ones who are a bit more proactive—you flirt back. You take the bait a little. Only if you’re interested, obviously.”

She shifted her weight against the machine, casual but deliberate.

“With other girls, they’ll expect you to make the first move. The gym’s tricky—some just want to focus on their workout, same as you. But others…” She gave a small shrug. “If there’s a moment—like between sets—and you’ve got some chemistry, you say something. Keep it light. Then maybe ask her out.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “Like… have you seriously never done this before?”

I sighed. “I’m coming off a long-term relationship. A marriage, actually. Like… eighteen years.”

She frowned. “Wow. That’s… kind of wild. No wonder you’ve been so locked in at the gym.” She tilted her head, then smiled. “Okay. Yeah—we’ve got some work to do.”

I chuckled. “Oh yeah? You gonna be my dating coach now?”

She smiled—devilish, but there was a hint of color in her cheeks now. “I mean… I could.” She hesitated for half a second, like she was deciding how far to push it. “Be your dating coach.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, a little more open than before. “And maybe a bit more than that.”

She let out a soft breath, almost a quiet laugh at herself. “Someone like you… coming out of something that long?” She shook her head slightly. “You don’t just jump back in like nothing happened.”

She stepped a touch closer, voice dropping just enough. “Sometimes you need a warm-up. Someone you’re comfortable with. No pressure, no expectations…”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips, even as her eyes held mine. “Like a sparring partner…”

Then, like the Tina I knew, brought it back to clear and obvious. “…but you know… for sex.”

I laughed. “Took you the long way around, but you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

She smiled. “I’m nice like that.” She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “So… what do you say, Daddy?"

I chuckled. “You gonna keep calling me that?”

“Yes,” she said, a little too pleased with herself.

I shook my head, still smiling. “Alright then. Your place or mine?”

Thirty minutes later.

“Oh fuck, daddy!” Tina moaned as my tongue lapped up her sopping wet opening. Her hot naked body was shivering from expert cunnilingus I was doling out on her.

My mouth parted from her moist lips just long enough to speak. “You’ve got such a hot little pussy, so wet for me already.” I went back to sucking on her clit.

“Damn, Daddy! You know your shit. Don’t you dare fucking stop!”

I didn’t; in fact, I upped the play. Pressing two fingers into her silky channel, she gasped as I started to attack her g-spot while twirling circles around her clit with my tongue.

“Fuck, fuck… I’m so close! Don’t stop… oh fuck!” She cried out as I sucked hard on her clit and her tunnel gushed with nectar. Her walls clamped down on my fingers as her orgasm hit hard. Her ample and surprisingly natural titties jiggled as she arched back in a toe-curling climax.

I eased her down from her high, licking the outer lips in a tried and practiced technique. Her heavy breaths eased as she was finally brought down.

“God damn, Richard! That was amazing.” She said, very much happily surprised.

“Old dogs might struggle to learn new tricks, but this dog already has quite a few,” I replied.

Raised her eyebrow, “You say that a lot. How old are you really?’

I moved up her body, a smirk on my lips as I kissed my way up. I was about to suck on her thick, swollen nipples when I answered, “Forty.”

“Mmmmm, that’s not that old,” she crooned.

I chuckled, “Only twice your age.”

She moaned as I switched nipples. “And twice the fun.”

I kept massaging and attacking her rather lovely and abundant tits when she grew impatient. “Enough of that. Get that dick out, daddy.”

I shook my head at her use of the word, but could not deny that it made my cock twitch. Smiling, I sat up to a kneeling position. I pulled down my tracksuit pants, freeing my rock-hard cock.

She smiled. “That’s a nice big one. That’s what, eight inches?”

I chuckled. “Probably, never bother to measure it.”

She had already joined me in a kneeling position, her hand wrapped around my cock as she leaned in for a kiss. Her vivid green eyes twinkled with mischief as she lay back down. She spread her legs and, with her fingers, spread her pussy.

“Come at me, Daddy."

I did not need another invitation. Grabbing a condom from my bedside table, rolled it over my thick shaft and leaned down.

She grabbed my cock and guided it to her waiting entrance. I sank into her with ease.

“Fuck, you have great pussy!” I said, my cock gliding deeper.

“Yeah? I think so. I’ve been called a bit of a size queen, so don’t be surprised when you bottom out," she replied cheekily.

True enough, I hilted my entire length into her tight wet tunnel. “Fuck, yes!”

“You like it, Daddy? You going to fuck my tight little pussy?” she egged me on with her dirty talk.

“Fuck, Tina! I might not last long. It’s been a minute," I said, clenching my teeth.

She started gyrating her well-defined thighs, fucking up to my cock in a deliciously enticing way, all the while playfully taunting me. “Oh, poor daddy. Has it been a long time? Long time since you got a nice piece of hot ass?”

I groan, “It’s been years.”

“Well, let Tina take care of that for you. Just hang on, I’ll get you there, Daddy.” She said with such a sexy, depraved tone.

She gripped my hips and thrust her hips in an unbelievably smooth, controlled motion. I had watched her do hip-thrusts in the gym, and it showed. With each upward push, my cock was buried to the hilt inside her.

I clenched my teeth as I was pushed to the limit.

“You close, Daddy? Gonna cum, deep inside my tight pussy?” She teased.

“Fuck, I can’t hold on much longer.” I groaned.

“Then let go, Daddy! Cum for your little slut.” She moved faster with her words, and I could not handle it.

“Oh fuck. Ahhhhh.” She slammed up, sheathing my cock completely, and I erupted. I saw stars as the best orgasm I have had in several years washed over me.

I collapsed onto her. Her full tits squashed against my chest, her legs wrapping around my waist as she cooed. “That’s it, Daddy. Cum for me! Cum so hard in this tight pussy.”

“Oh fuck, yes. Oh fuck…” I moaned. My cock erupting, sending a pulse of climactic pleasure through the tip of my shaft, down my balls, and up into my brain. The band of the condom gripping my urethra as it spasmed in orgasmic eruption.

“Oh yes, Daddy! I love this part! Feeling your cock twitch inside me. Oh, so good.” She cooed.

As my orgasm subsided, I looked up at this hot gym bunny who had just ridden my cock to a release I sorely needed.
She steadied her breathing, her smooth caramel skin slick with a thin layer of sweat. She brushed hair out of her face and looked down at me in self-satisfaction. “Not bad, huh?”

I chuckled. “Where did you learn that?”

She bit her lip in desire. “Just something I learned was possible after countless hours of hip thrusts. I wondered what it felt like to do the thrusting, you know, how you guys do it. Why? You like it?”

I laughed in exaltation. “It was fucking incredible. Did not help that I was so ready to blow. Holy shit.”

She pressed down onto my chest and looked between her legs at my softening cock pulling out of her tight pussy. She looked up at me with a satisfied smile. “I love watching a nice fat cock leaving my pussy. It just feels so epic to see such a big piece of dick coming out of me. Like, I just fit that monster in me; it’s empowering in a way.”

I chuckled. “Well, if you ever need more empowerment. I’ll be happy to help.”

She looked at me with an arched eyebrow. “Oh, Daddy. We’re not done yet.”

With that said, she moved backwards to my condom-covered shaft and proceeded to pull it off. “Now, let’s get you ready for round two. How quickly do you normally bounce back?”

At that, my cock started twitching, and she chuckled, “Not long at all, it seems. Still, I want a taste of this fabulous cock. Then, I want you to fuck me like the bear of a man you are!”

With that, she swung one leg over my face and lowered her pussy onto my face as I felt her inhale my manhood. God damn, it was glorious to be with a beautiful, horny woman once more.

We were both moaning and raring to go within minutes when she flipped around and, with her back to me, grabbed my bare cock and slipped it into her pussy. Her drenched entrance swallowed my shaft with silky smooth ease. Her wet hole welcomed me with such glorious slick warmth.

“What about a condom?” I protested, rather half-heartedly.

“I want to feel all of you this time. Let me know when you're close; I want to suck that cock dry!”

I shrugged, past caring. “Sure thing, baby girl,” I said as I grabbed her hips and started pounding into her.

“Fuck, yes, Daddy! Pound that tight pussy!” she screamed as I thrust up into her waiting entrance.

She lowered her back down onto my chest, arching, her head lulling over my shoulder as I pounded. This was one of my favorite positions. A hot, nubile hottie, draped over me as I fucked her hard. From here I could rub her clit, grab her tits, hold her inner thighs, and if she was into it, even choke her a little. I decided to grab a sweat-covered breast and strum her clit at the same time.

“Oh fuck! Yes! Just like that! Fuck me, daddy! Fuck me harder!” She screamed!

“That’s it! Take that fat dick! Your pussy is so fucking tight and wet for daddy!” I joined in.

“Oh, fuck yes! Tell me how much you love my pussy, daddy! Tell me what good little slut I am for you!” She said in erotic abandonment.

“You’re such a hot slut for me, baby girl! Taking my huge cock like the size queen you are!” I really got into the role play.

“Oh my god! Strum that naughty clit, daddy! Pound that slutty pussy! Harder, daddy! Fuck the shit out of me!” She screamed.

“Holy shit, you're such a dirty little slut! You're close, aren’t you! Ready to cum for daddy?” I growled, pulling on her swollen hard nipple as I flicked her clit vigorously.

“Oh my god, I’m so fucking close! Don’t stop, daddy! Don’t stop fucking me!” She begged.

“Gonna fuck you till you cum on that big daddy dick, like the good little slut you are.” I snarled in controlled desire. I was already getting close. Keeping my climax at bay by sheer will to see her climax on my cock.

She started cussing frantically before finally going rigid as I furiously strummed her little nodule. “Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…. Oh yes!”

When her pussy finally gripped my cock like a vice, I shoved it as deep as I could and then released her clit. Allowing her to experience the full effect without further stimulation. I felt her pussy juice run down my shaft in sticky rivulets that ran through the curly, short-trimmed pubes of my balls before dripping onto the bed.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on that big fat cock, cum for daddy!” I whispered into her ear and then sucking on her lobe.
She twitched in exquisite moans as the climax started to wane. I started to slowly fuck back into her. “I’m about as ready to blow as you can get. If you want a taste, better get those sweet lips on that cock.”

She giggled. “Yes, Daddy."

I pulled her off my soaked dick and watched her quickly get down between my legs and suck on my cock. Something I knew she did really well. It did not take long.

“Fuck, Tina, I’m gonna blow,” I warned.
She moaned in acquiescence as she kept sucking on the head of my cock, tonguing the small opening at the tip while stroking my shaft and massaging my balls with the other.

“Ah fuck.” I groaned as my cock erupted, shooting ropes of cum into this hot little sluts throat.

She looked up at me with amber eyes, giggling around my cock as she enjoyed the power she held over me. I gripped the sheets as the pleasure washed over me. Every ejection of cum sent shockwaves of elation up my body. When I finally spent my last drop, she slurped up the last drop and giggled in triumph. “Fuck, daddy! That was a lot of cum for a second load. Yummy!”

My head collapsed back against the pillow as contentment fell upon me I hadn’t felt in years. Indefinitely was in the game again, and holy shit it was good to be back!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sera
“I’m back,” Becca called out. “And I have sushi!”

I looked up from the sofa, cup of tea in my hand and dressed in only a tight crop top and thong.

“Hey, Becs, did you remember spring rolls?” I asked with a smile.

“Of course I did.” She said, lifting a brow.

She set the packages on the kitchen counter and looked at the flatscreen. “Ooh, you watching Temptation Island without me?”

I frowned. “This season has been out for a while.”

“Doesn’t matter, I haven’t seen it yet.” She retorted, handing me my container of assorted sushi rolls.

“Hey, TV shows in this house are fair game when it hits six months. Then it’s old news."

She smirked. “Speaking of old. You call Uncle Rich yet?”

I groaned. “I should never have told you that part.”

She chuckled. “Who names their kid Tommy in the 2000s anyway?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure his name is actually Thomas.”

“The little engine that could,” we both said in unison and then giggled.

We ate in silence, watching the drama unfold on the flat screen.

Half an hour later, we gasped as the episode ended. “I can’t believe that skank Jade did that. What the fuck?”  Becca exclaimed.

“I know, right, cheating on Cliff with that player Rodney. Wow.” I responded, standing up to grab some water.

As I closed the fridge, the business card from the previous day hung on my fridge door. A small Quebec tourist magnate keeping it up. I mulled over the card, staring me in the face. Richard Price, CEO and Owner of Baskar Manufacturers Ltd.
I remembered his smile, his quick wit, his tall, attractive frame and that deep voice with a hint of a British accent. I flushed thinking about how he stared me up and down and remembering the attraction in his eyes.

I bit my lip and plucked the card from the fridge door, I strolled over and picked up my phone.

Becca saw what I was up to and, of course, chimed in. “Tell Richy, I said hi.”

I rolled my eyes and dialed the number. It rang three times before that manly voice answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Oh, is this Richard?” I asked, channeling as much feminine whimsy as I could muster.

“Sera. How are you?” He replied.

Surprised, I asked, “I’m doing great, thank you. How’d you know it was me?”

He chuckled softly. “I would recognize that voice anywhere.”

I blushed. “Wow, I must’ve made an impression.”

“You sure did. I don’t typically end my night in the ER, after all.” He quipped.

I groaned in embarrassment. “I know. Not the ideal way to end our time together. I was having fun.”

His husky reply sent shivers down my spine. “So did I. Those few minutes speaking to you, it shook me out of a stupor I’ve been in a while.”

That was interesting. “How so?”

“It’s a bit of a long story. And I’m sure your friend Becca told a bit about it. But… if you want to. I’d love to find out more about you, and if you’re up for a trauma dump, I'll share more about myself too.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Um… sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking lunch would be a good move. Maybe tomorrow, at 208 Young? There is a great deli there that is open on Sundays.” He suggested.

“Oh, Kevin’s Cuts? I know the spot.” I replied, pleasantly surprised. It was one of my favorite spots.

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Excellent! As much as I would love to keep talking. I’m at a family event. Tommy’s dad is hosting a barbecue, and I’m responsible for salad.”

“Oh really. That is a grave responsibility," I teased.

“Oh yes. My sister-in-law insisted I follow this recipe that has radish in it. I mean, who puts radish in a salad? I am quite afraid I might fuck it up.” He played along.

“I highly doubt it. You seem very capable with your hands.” I said, a bit flirty.

“And you know this how? Who has been spying for you?” He joked.

“Call it a strong feeling. I’ve always trusted my gut, and on this it seems pretty sure.”

He chuckled. “I will neither deny nor confirm your gut’s assertions. You will just have to wait to test your theory, yourself.”

“I cannot wait,” I said in a low voice.

“I’m afraid, neither can I.” He matched my tone.

For a moment there was only silence until he asked, “By the way. Do you have any allergies?”

I was caught off guard by the question. “Um, none that I am aware of. Why?”

“You’ll see tomorrow. Have a splendid night and tell Becca I said hello.” He replied.

I smiled. “I will, take care… and tell Tommy I said hi.”

He chuckled, “I will; take care.”

I ended the call and looked at Becca; there was a short silence before we both burst out into girlish screams of excitement you typically see in coming-of-age girl dramas.