“I am really looking forward to meeting you; I’m sure we can have a great time together.”
Accompanying the message was a photo of an attractive woman sprawled on a sofa. The photo was taken from above her shoulder, so it was difficult to clearly see her face. I could clearly see huge, delicious-looking beasts jutting out from her unbuttoned blouse. It was hard to tell precisely from the photo, but I would have wagered that she was older, likely in her forties or fifties.
I stared for a moment… what sane man wouldn’t? Then I shook my heard and deleted the message. I assumed that it was an ad for a MILF website or chatline. I must admit that I have browsed some mature sites when my wife had gone out for the evening, though I’m not really into porn.
I quickly forgot about the text, finished my work and headed for home.
My name is Jonathan, but everyone who knows me well still calls me Jonny, even though I’m fifty-nine years old. For the past thirty-five years, I have worked as an executive at a bank in the City, London’s financial district, and I was now a senior executive. While employers in the UK can no longer force people to retire at age sixty as they could only several years ago, my wife and I are well enough off that I plan to retire in a few weeks, just after my sixtieth birthday.
When I got home that evening, Jessica greeted me with a big kiss. Don’t get me wrong, Jessica and I have a great marriage that I would not trade for anything in the world, but after 27 years of being together, a big, juicy welcome-home snog is not a natural event.
That’s too bad, because Jessica is still a very beautiful woman, thin and trim with a beautiful face. She quit work when we had our daughter, 24 years ago. Once Lily began primary school, Jessica discovered physical fitness in a big way. She still goes to the gym three times a week. She walks rather than drives, if possible. She is now chairwoman of the local tennis club. While she’s fifty-five, I think she looks more like she’s forty.
Once we broke off the kiss, I had to ask, “What was that all about? I don’t get a greeting like that most evenings!”
“Well, to be honest, I was thinking a lot about you and me today,” Jessica said. “I had lunch today with Elizabeth, and she says that I should be worried about you. In two weeks’ time, you will be hitting the big 6-0, and you’re just few more weeks from quitting work altogether. That’s a lot of change. Are you really ready for this?”
I thought, “Oh God, here we go again.” Elizabeth was her latest tennis partner, who I had not yet met. It was probably just as well because she sounded like a real busybody. Jessica was always telling me that “Elizabeth says this” or “Elizabeth thinks that,” even when the topics were none of Elizabeth’s damned business… such as my impending retirement. Dinner conversations had lately been largely dominated by Elizabeth’s words of wisdom. If Jessica wasn’t talking about Elizabeth, she was probably telling me about Elizabeth’s wonderful husband, who was a world famous transplant surgeon. I sometimes wondered if something was going on between my wife and her new best friend.
For once, I wanted to give my opinion rather than just hear about Elizabeth’s.
“Honey, we have been talking about retirement for years,” I said reassuringly. “Our daughter is now twenty-four and has a great job in Newcastle. She already has her own life. I’m tired of working everyday like a dog, and we said we always wanted to travel and enjoy each others company before we got too old. We have plenty of money, so what’s the problem?”
Jessica thought for a moment and then said: “I guess I am worried that you will be bored, Jonny. So is Elizabeth. I know you are tired of working, but that’s all you seem to have done since you left university nearly thirty years ago. Yeah, we had four or five weeks’ holiday every year, but most of that time we spent with Lily. You are accustomed to having lots of people around you each day. Will you be satisfied just being with me?”
As I tied to say earlier, Jessica is the love of my life. So I again reassured her, despite what Elizabeth may have told her. “You don’t know how forward I am looking towards spending lots of ‘private’ time with you,” I said, raising my eyebrows suggestively. “Hell, there are days when we won’t have to leave the house. In fact, I hope there will be days when we don’t ever get out of bed.”
Jessica punched me lightly in the arm as she does when she thinks I am being silly, and then headed into the kitchen to start our supper. Like most people our age, the sexual fire that we maintained years ago had all but been extinguished. Once upon a time, we couldn’t get enough of each other. Jessica could suck my cock for what seemed like hours; I doubt whether she had given my dick a friendly goodnight kiss in the past two or three years. But then, how long has it been since I gave her muff a good licking? Probably just as long, if not longer.
While we still had sex about once a week, it never lasted more than 15 minutes. I was often too tired, or she wasn’t really in the mood. I sometimes wondered if Jessica was finding satisfaction elsewhere, but I didn’t really want to ask. Perhaps I just didn’t want to know.
Later that evening, Jessica asked how I wanted to celebrate my birthday, which happened to be on a Saturday this year.
“Nothing major,” I replied. “You know me, I don’t like to make a big thing out of birthdays, whether it’s fifty-nine or sixty. If you are considering a horrible surprise party, just forget it. Remember, guys in their sixties can still file for divorce, and my best friend is a lawyer.
“Seriously,” I continued, “it would be nice if Lily could come down from Newcastle, or we could go up there. It would be great if just the three of us could celebrate over a nice dinner, or four of us if she is seeing someone.”
“Not that I know of,” Jessica replied, “but I talked to Lily yesterday and she has to work the weekend of your birthday. She feels rotten about it, but she thinks it would be bad for her career if she tried to take that Saturday off.”
“I understand,” I said. “Well, then it will just be the two of us. Why don’t we just go out for a nice dinner, maybe with some drinks afterwards? You can surprise me, but no parties, OK?”
“Fine,” Jessica said, turning on the television. “I’ll give it some thought, and I’ll plan something intimate.”
The next two weeks went by quickly. As my retirement date approached, my bosses wanted to make sure there was an orderly handover of my duties, so my days were filled with meetings. During the evenings, I had already started the rounds of celebratory dinners or drinks that were customary when an executive retired from the bank.
I had been so busy, the night before my birthday Jessica asked me: “Do you remember what tomorrow is?”
“Of course, it’s my frickin’ birthday,” I replied somewhat grumpily.
“Don’t be such a grouch,” she said, smiling. “You said to surprise you, so I have thought of something that I think you will like. Don’t worry, there will be no big party, it will be intimate, just like I promised. You should wear your best suit and that red-striped shirt that I really like. You look so good in that.”
“OK, that sounds great,” I said more happily. “Remember, I have a golf game tomorrow. I’ll be home by five unless you need me earlier.”
“You will definitely be home by five but no earlier. I told Betty to tell Howard that you are only allowed one beer after your finish playing.”
Great, I thought. Not only do I have to hear about Elizabeth’s cockamamie opinions about my retirement, but now Jessica is telling the wife of my golfing buddy how much I can drink on my birthday.
As we went to bed that evening, I asked if any pre-birthday bedroom action was in the offing. “This is your last chance to fuck a fifty-something gent,” I said with a smile.
“That’s not true,” Jessica responded. “I can go out and fuck someone who is fifty or even forty whenever I want. Go to sleep, you old goat. You should save your energy for tomorrow when you are officially old.”
Now I was worried? Had she been fucking someone younger while I was toiling at the bank?
The next morning, Jessica surprised me with a beautifully cooked breakfast, a corny birthday card and a new iPad to replace the corporate tablet I would soon have to hand back to the bank. She promised more presents later. Then, it was off to my golf match. My buddies did their best to let me win, even if Howard had to drive five balls into the lake on the 13th. We had a quick drink afterwards, and I was home by five as promised.
Jenny met me at the door in a dressing gown. “Take your time and unwind,” she said. “I’ll be getting ready, so why don’t you have your shower and dress in the guest bathroom? I’ve already laid out your clothes for this evening.”
Great, I thought. I am now sixty, but she treats me like I am six. Actually, I understood: she wanted me out of our bedroom because she likes to be alone when she gets dolled up.
And dolled up she surely was! I was waiting in the sitting room for the taxi to arrive when I heard her walking down the stairs.
Jessica looked lovelier – and far sexier – than I had seen her in years. She usually wears her brown hair down, but tonight she had pinned it up. That accentuated her bare shoulders as he was wearing a midnight blue strapless top that showed off her bosom. Jessica is not very big in the chest, but the top looked as if it was designed to lift her 32Bs deliciously. She also wore a flowing chiffon skirt of the same colour, that ended just shy of her knees, along with matching high heels. Jessica is usually a pretty conservative dresser, but her outfit was perfect: much sexier than her usual garb, but entirely appropriate for a fancy night on the town.
I let out a low whistle, and then I kissed her as she got to the bottom of the staircase. “The taxi driver has called and is waiting, Jonny, and I want to get to the restaurant on time. They’ll be plenty of time for hanky-panky later.”
The taxi headed toward the West End and finally stopped in front of a new restaurant in Mayfair that even I knew had received rave reviews from the newspaper critics. As I paid the driver, Jessica leaned over and said, “Is this OK?” It certainly was; I was surprised that she could nab a reservation.
We were shown to our table and were just about ready to order drinks when Jessica suddenly said, “Oh my goodness, darling, Elizabeth is here!”
A woman about Jessica’s age approached the table and said hello, kissing Jessica on both cheeks continental style and then shaking my hand.
“Jessica, it’s so great to see you tonight, but I don’t want to linger,” Elizabeth said. “I know it is Jonathan’s birthday. Anyway, I am just about ready to leave; I just got a text from my husband who has been called to the hospital to perform emergency surgery. It’s no fun eating in a fancy place like this on one’s own.”
“Nonsense,” Jessica said. “I am sure they can set another place at our table. I can’t have you going home alone on a Saturday night waiting for Charles.”
“That’s the life of a doctor’s wife,” Elizabeth said. I was now expecting her to say why she couldn’t stay, but she surprised me. “Well, if it wouldn’t be any bother?” she asked.
So, here I was, sitting in one of the poshest restaurants in London, listening to (in no particular order) the problems facing the Hampsted Women’s Tennis Society, Elizabeth’s wonderful husband, the merits of various face creams and the new butcher that had opened in Belsize Park. That’s what I get for saying I do not want to make a fuss about my sixtieth birthday.
Since I was not saying much and Elizabeth was saying a lot, I had a lot of time to check her out. She was attractive in her own way, but certainly was not stunning like Jessica. Elizabeth wasn’t fat, but she definitely wasn’t thin, either. She appeared to have an ample bust, but I couldn’t really tell what was hiding under her frumpy, high-necked dress that looked a size too large. Her hair, which looked like it had not been styled in a long time, hung loosely down to her shoulders. She wore large, rather ugly glasses.
Dinner dragged on. While Jessica tried her best to keep me involved, Elizabeth controlled the conversation, even venturing her opinions about religion and politics. I was happy when the waiter brought the bill.