My name is Rachael Hayes, and this is the story about when I started dating my first older man. Before this, I had only dated people my own age or younger. I never realized what "age and experience" could do for a girl...

My move to Los Angeles had been difficult and painful and I was extremely lonely there at first. I had moved to Los Angeles soon after leaving college when my mom suddenly got sick and passed away. I wanted to get away from all the bad memories and get a fresh start. I had always wanted to see Los Angeles, and with nothing to hold me in Ohio anymore, I thought the change would do me good.

I'd never had much trouble making friends. I was pretty popular in high school–you know, I was a cheerleader, part of the Prom Court for homecoming, and all that. I had a couple of different boyfriends during those years (both younger than me) and never missed a dance. When I got to college, I quickly adapted and jumped right into college life. Ohio State University wasn't all that far from my hometown, so it felt very familiar to me.

While in college I had a crush on one of the professors. It was an English literature class with Professor Hamilton. He was an older man but very distinguished; he always reminded me of Sean Connery. He had the same graying beard, the same cool calmness, he even sounded a little like him! I loved going to that class - I don't know if I learned much, but my attendance was perfect!

After I graduated from college, I went back home and was planning on going to work at one of the local papers. But that's when Mom got sick and passed away just as I had started working. My father had long since divorced mom and remarried, moving to Alabama someplace, and so with no one left to stay in Ohio for, I packed up and headed west.

At first, the idea of Los Angeles had seemed so glamorous. Single, free, twenty-three years old, and in one of the world's great cities. But California was not what the TV commercials and travel brochures claimed it was. It was not all sunshine, beaches, and hunky guys.

And it wasn't like the beach movies of the '60s either; there wasn't a party every day and romance every night under the full moon. Instead, the part of Los Angeles I knew was a dirty, overcrowded, and dangerous. It wasn't at all like the friendly hometown I left.

I learned quickly where I could go and what I could do. I wasn't in the inner city, but I wasn't living in Beverly Hills, either. I was fortunate to be able to find a small, one-bedroom apartment in a secure building–there was a four-digit access code you had to punch in to get in the lobby, then each apartment had their own keyed lock and deadbolt. Any visitor or deliveryman would just use the intercom to be let in.

So I felt safe once I was home. Also, I lived on the third floor so I didn't have to worry too much about creeps peeking in my window from the street! The people in the building kept to themselves, too. No one said hi to anyone and just went about their business.

Well, except for one man who lived across the hall from me. He was a big man but very sweet. A former cop and bouncer, I didn't worry about anything once I was home. He looked out for the new girl across the hall and said if I ever needed help to give him a call.

I landed a job at a small newspaper where I thought I could put my Journalism degree to good use. I had interned at a paper about the same size as this back in Ohio over the summers and so I felt comfortable applying for the job.

But once I was hired and began working there, I quickly realized like Los Angeles itself, the closed-off, dog-eat-dog world of professional journalism hit me square in the face! And this little newspaper felt more like a pressure cooker with its hyper-competitive atmosphere.

My college classes and even the internship did not prepare me for the high pressure, fast-paced world of big-city journalism. The idea of a friendly newsroom where we all worked to make the paper the best there was–you know the Mary Tyler Moore television news only in print–faded into a new reality. If you don't get the stories and interviews and get them first, you don't keep your job long!

So we fought with each other for stories and for the best interviews. And shared more than a little contempt for each other. Some of the top reporters for the paper even went as far as hijacking stories and those they couldn't hijack, they would try to torpedo or at least hamper and cause them to miss the deadline. Anything to "one-up" their fellow reporters–it was a tough, mean-spirited business!

One day I came to work and to a big surprise–our little newspaper had been sold! Of course, this sent a wave of panic and concern that we would all lose our jobs. But the company had a meeting where we met the new owner of our newspaper and he calmed all of our fears by assuring us that no one would be fired. The former owner just wanted to retire, so he sold the business.

Somehow I thought that with new blood at the top things would change, and it would get friendlier and more relaxed. The new owner was well-backed financially, so the I foolishly thought pressure to keep the paper running wouldn't be as bad.

However, even though we had a new owner, we had the same extremely competitive, spiteful cutthroats on the news floor. So nothing changed–there was just a new ass to kiss!

One exceptionally bad day I found out just how vicious my fellow coworkers could be. I had been working on a story–a good story–for some time, trying to get an interview with one very reclusive head of one of the local gangs. For whatever reason (I still to this don't know why) he took a liking to me and trusted me.

We had an interview set up in a couple of days when I found out one of my co-workers had swept in and not only scooped my interview, but had put lies in his ears not to trust me and that I was only looking to slant the story and the interview against him and his gang.

It took some doing, but I was eventually able to convince him that all he had heard about me was untrue, but I had lost the story. And I needed that story if I was going to advance in the company.

After work that day, my bus ride home was especially lonely. I was surrounded by millions of people, yet I didn't have a single friend within a thousand miles. It felt very odd to be surrounded by the bustle of the city, yet so totally alone. The anonymity was both palpable and painful. I looked out the window of the bus as I rode, looking at all the people passing by in their own vehicles and at the houses and buildings along the way.

When I got home that night, it didn't feel like home. Instead, it felt more like a prison. There were no bars on the windows but I still didn't feel like I was free. I knew that I couldn't go out–I wouldn't have any place to go anyway. And I didn't know anyone that I could call and talk to. Even my friend across the hall was gone for a few days.

Here I was in the City of Angels but it was my own private hell. I was surrounded by more people than I could even get my head around yet I couldn't be more alone if I was on a deserted island.

I didn't have to work the next day, so I decided to have a little pity party–just me and my best friend, a bottle of cheap white wine I picked up on the walk from the bus stop. To tell you the truth, this wasn't my first pity party. I had learned that I could find happiness–however temporarily–at the bottom of a wine bottle.

So I usually kept a bottle on hand for those rough days I'd just as soon forget. I wasn't a drunk, don't misunderstand. It's just that a glass or two of wine took the edge off and helped me unwind on rough days.

However, after this incident of being shot down by what should have been a coworker, it was more than a rough night. I'd had a perfectly rotten day and had no one to talk to about it. No one to hold me and tell me it would be all right and no one to give me the support and encouragement I badly needed at that time.

And so that night, on a drunken, lonely whim, I decided that I would use my journalism talents for my own use for a change. I figured if I couldn't find anyone in this big city, then I would help them find me.

And so I made a profile on one of those online dating sites that seem to be so popular. I had seen an ad for one of them on television while I was downing my fourth or fifth glass of wine and the more wine I had, the better the idea seemed.

Online dating didn't have a negative connotation to me. Lots of people used them, I knew, and while there was a certain amount of risk in meeting a stranger you had only "met" online, it wasn't any more dangerous than meeting the old fashioned way.

At least online dating opened up more possibilities and you could narrow the field from those that responded depending on what you were after. You could learn a little about each other before the actual first date and if he (or she) wasn't what you were after, you wouldn't waste time and money on a date with no hope.

So I wrote what at the time (and state of mind I was in) seemed like a good profile, uploaded a few select pictures of myself, and answered a few questions to submit my own profile. After I'd hit send and became "one of the thousands that use online dating services" as the advertisement said, I decided to have a look at some other profiles to see what I could find.

I scrolled through a few pages and found a few that had potential. But it was late, I was more than a little drunk now, and it had been a very tough day. So I turned off my computer, downed the last of the bottle of wine and stumbled into the bedroom passing out as soon as I hit the bed, clothes and all.

The next morning I woke up when the sun had moved around far enough to shine into my window and my face. Thankfully, although I don't know how, I woke up without a hangover. I lay in bed trying to think of a reason I needed to get up. Suddenly I remembered the profile I had created in my drunken stupor.

My first instinct was to log on and delete it before someone saw it, but I figured that by now it was probably too late to stop it anyway.

So I made a cup of coffee to help me wake up, then I took a shower, changing out of my wrinkled work clothes into something more comfortable. Coming back into the living room, I checked my emails as I always do and there I saw that I had fifteen new messages.

I didn't know fifteen people in the whole world that would email me! Curiosity finally won out, and I logged to my email service to see who could be sending me messages. I had a couple of spam emails (I have a "disposable" email address that I use when I think I might get spam from a company or something–a trick that one of my professors taught me.

That way, I know I can just dump the contents when it gets full without going through each email!), and I saw the address of the online dating service in several of the messages as well.

I started looking at the dating service messages just to see what was out there. Most of the messages were either very short, just saying "Hi there, wanna go out?" or something equally mundane and uninspired.

Others were written as if a teen girl had written them with spelling errors and "text speak" verbiage. If you can't spell out the word you or are, then you need to get off the dating circuit and go back to school!

There was one gem hidden among the messages, however. It was from someone calling himself Thomas1076. He was a forty-one-year-old man living only an hour away in Santa Ana. He was an amazing writer, educated and intelligent, and he had a way with words that made me sit up and take notice. Literally.

I had been going through these other clown's messages, getting bored and losing hope in finding anyone, when I opened his message. He caught me right from the first few words. I sat up in my seat and began reading his message more intently.

His letter was quite thorough and he wrote several paragraphs about himself, his interests, and what he was looking for out of this dating thing.

Then he went into the things he found interesting about my profile. We found we had several shared interests; he loved great music, especially classic rock and roll, he appreciated all the books and authors I loved, and he loved to go out to eat. It was basically a perfect first message!

I read his message a couple of times before logging out. I made myself some breakfast and thought about the day. But my mind kept going back to the email from Thomas. I couldn't seem to get him out of my head!

Finally, I logged back in and sent a reply to his amazing letter, telling him how much we seemed to have in common and more about what I was hoping to find out of this online dating idea. I was careful not to go into too many specific details just yet, keeping things a bit general until I knew him better.

I told him I was originally from Ohio and that I was in Los Angeles as a journalist. I told him a bit about my past–that my Mom died right after I came home from college and that my father had left us years ago so I had no one in Ohio to miss.

Of course, there was the obligatory description of what I looked like–you know the "statistics" as it were, and I told him all that. I thought for a little while that once he found out I was only twenty-three he might not write back, but better to find out now at the start than after we had become closer friends and I would really be hurt by his leaving.

I sent my email off and thought that if he was put off by the age difference, I would just have to keep looking. Once I hit send and the email was on its way, I logged off and began doing some needed housework. Later that evening after dinner I logged back in to check my email again.

I hoped to find a reply from Thomas but I wasn't holding my breath. After all, eighteen years difference in ages is enough to turn a lot of guys off. And those it doesn't turn off you have to be very careful of!

So, while I was hoping he would respond to my email, I wasn't really expecting him to. However, when I went into my email, there was one from him. Holding my breath, I cautiously opened his email fearing it said goodbye.

But instead, he sounded even more interested in me! He wrote me a longer, more eloquent reply and told me that our age difference didn't bother him if it didn't bother me (and at this point, it didn't!).

And so it went for us for about three weeks, writing back and forth every day and sometimes two or three times a day. He began leaving me good morning messages and telling me goodnight–which I found very sweet and endearing. He never failed to ask me how my day was and how I was feeling. He was definitely winning points with me! 

About two weeks into our letter writing, he told me he had to go out of town on a business trip but he would bring his laptop and we could continue writing. "But when I get back I would very much like to meet you, Rachael," he wrote.

That set me back in my seat for a moment. I did want to meet this man who had so quickly and completely won me over. On the other hand, I had learned a hard lesson moving to Los Angeles–not everyone here has your best interests at heart!

We continued our email campaign and once he had returned to Santa Ana he wrote me again about wanting to meet. He understood that I was a little anxious about meeting someone I didn't know, and he suggested we start with lunch at a public restaurant.

That sounded okay to me; there would be people around in case things got out of hand, so I agreed. I didn't have a car yet but he did, so we picked this little family restaurant a short bus ride away from where I lived.

We chose to meet that coming Saturday. He said he didn't want to meet me during the week because I would probably be tired and he wanted me fresh and in good spirits for our first date. That was a very sweet gesture on his part–I had told him about my work and how I usually came home tired and not always in the best of moods.

I had gotten over my story being stolen out from under me, but I didn't forget how my fellow co-worker had tried to undermine my career. I was more careful now.

Saturday came and as I prepared for our date I started getting really excited. This was the first date I had gotten in the now three months I had been here. I took a shower, making sure I shaved my legs and underarms.

Then I had a naughty thought and with a mischievous smirk, I began shaving my pussy too. When I was done and my pussy was smooth as a baby's bottom, I got out of the shower and finished getting ready for my date.

I got to the restaurant a little before our scheduled time–I wanted the advantage of the first look at him. I had written him and told him what I would be wearing… my mid-thigh length red dress.

I liked this dress because it was nice enough to be appropriate, but with a deep V front, a daringly low cut back and short length it was also playful and sexy enough to turn a head or two! Plus being stretch-knit fabric, it hugged me tight, adding to its sexy appeal! I also brought my sexy red open toe CFM heels and I was ready to go!

I put on a long overcoat and some more sensible shoes because I was going to ride the bus and I didn't want any undue attention. I figured I could get to the restaurant and change shoes before Thomas got there. The bus ride was non-eventful, thankfully, and I got to the restaurant with no problems. I found a table facing the door and after asking the waitress to watch my overcoat, I slipped into the ladies room to change my shoes and take one final check of things.

I had just sat back down at the table a couple of minutes before Thomas walked in. I knew in a minute it was him–he told me he would be wearing his trademark Greek fisherman's cap.

Thomas was impeccably dressed in a nice navy blue blazer over a white shirt with the first three buttons open to show his chest a bit. He wore tailored pants and well shined black shoes. He definitely made a good first impression!

He saw me sitting across the room and came walking over. As he approached, I stood up so he could get an equal look at me and from the sparkling smile and warmth in his brown eyes, I could see I made a favorable impression on him as well.

Thomas was taller than expected. Even though his profile said he was six foot two inches tall, I knew that people often "padded" their profiles, adding or subtracting figures as they thought necessary. But Thomas was indeed the height he claimed which made him a foot taller than me and won him bonus points for being tall.

"Hello Rachael, I am Thomas… Thomas Fisher. It's very nice to meet you," he said.

"Rachael Hayes, and it's nice to meet you as well, Thomas," I said, surprised that my words even came out. I stood there shaking the handsome man's hand and I could feel myself trembling, my heart racing and my breathing faster than normal as well.

"Please, have a seat, my dear," he said, pulling my chair out for me. Ohmygod! This man is amazing! I thought to myself. I sat down and he scooted me in a bit. Then he took a seat directly across from me. I looked into his friendly, caring face and stared into those warm brown eyes. I wanted to use them as a blanket and wrap myself in them.

"Would you like something to drink before we order?" he asked, breaking me out of my spell.

"Um, yeah a soda would be nice," I said. He motioned for the waitress and when she came over he ordered a soda for me and an iced tea for himself.

We began to talk and learn more about each other. I found out that Thomas was a professional speaker and traveled all over giving motivational and business speeches. No wonder why he was so well-read and educated! Companies would hire him to come and get their people all fired up and motivated to increase production, or he'd come to introduce a new product or program. I found it all very interesting.

I told him more about my life and how I was a Journalism major at Ohio State before coming to L.A. to work at the newspaper. I told him how very different it is here than back in Ohio and how my job at the newspaper isn't at all what I thought it would be.

We talked about growing up and what we were like as kids. We talked about past loves and I found out that he had never been married (a fact I found shocking considering what I saw in front of me now!) and I admitted a weakness for older men.

"Well it's nice to know that," he said with a big grin, "At least I know I still have a shot with you!"

A shot? Hell, he keeps going like this and he has more than just a shot! I thought to myself.

We ate our lunch and kept talking about ourselves. The more I learned about Thomas, the more I found fascinating about him. We talked and talked and before we knew it, it was getting late. It felt as if no time had gone by yet we had been at the restaurant for hours! And Thomas had gotten a lot more points than just being tall during our conversation!

"I have to be honest with you Rachael. When I first got your email and you told me you were only twenty-three I thought you would be far too young for me and that we wouldn't have anything in common. But the more we wrote, the more I found you interesting and so I decided to give it a go and meet you. Now I am happy that I did. You are a very special woman Rachael, and I am glad I have met you," he said.

"I am glad too, Thomas. It's been a very difficult time these last three months–first losing my mother and then coming to Los Angeles. I have missed home terribly and then I think, I don't even have a home to go back to and that makes it even worse! It's going to be much easier now knowing I have someone I can talk to… it won't be so lonely here," I said.

"Rachael, dear, anytime you get to feeling lonely and want to talk you call me, okay? I don't want you feeling sad or lonely anymore. Promise me that you will call me if you start feeling lonesome or sad or even if you just had a bad day and want to talk. Promise?" he said.

"I promise," I said, "Thank you, Thomas."

With our lunch over and the waitresses wondering if we were ever going to leave, we decided it would probably be a good idea to be on our way. We got up, Thomas paid for our meals and left a generous tip for taking so long and we headed out of the door.

"I know you took the bus to get here–you told me you don't have a car. Is there someplace I can take you?" he asked. I had been dreading this moment almost from the first time I saw Thomas… the end of the first date I'd had since coming to Los Angeles. I was facing going back to my lonely apartment and I didn't want that. Not now.

"Thomas, I have had a very good time today… probably the best time I've had since coming out here. And I really am not looking forward to going back to that lonely apartment. I hope you won't think I'm being too forward or that I'm easy, but can we go back to your place? I mean, unless you had something else to do today," I said.

Thomas took my hand and brought it to his lips kissing the back of my hand. "My dear sweet Rachael, I could never think you too forward or easy. You are every bit a lady. And I, too, have had a wonderful time–the best first date I can remember ever having. Yes, of course, we can go back to my place," he said.

He smiled and offered me his arm, which I took wrapping both of mine around it. I laid my head against his arm and we walked to his car. Thomas drove a silver 2014 Cadillac CTS. This car was amazing! Fully loaded with every option you can get, it was gorgeous!

Thomas opened my door for me and helped me get seated. The leather seats in this car were butter soft and I sank into them luxuriously. He helped me buckle up (the man took very good care of me at every turn!)

When I was situated just right, he walked around and got in himself. We drove to his place and in that hour-long drive, we talked some more. Thomas was a perfect gentleman and even though he had me completely alone and could have done anything he wanted, he didn't.

We just talked and laughed and got even more comfortable with each other. It was very nice. He turned on the radio and we found a song we both liked singing along with the radio as we drove. He told me about the business trip that he had just come back from–a speaking engagement for a law firm in Las Vegas.

It didn't seem at all like an hour later when we pulled into his condo building. "Because I am always coming and going, I live in a condo instead of a house. This way my other condo members can look after my place while I'm gone," he said.

"I live in an apartment building and I have one neighbor across the hall that kind of watches out for me. But he's been gone for the past few days," I told him, "I don't know anyone else in the building… everyone keeps to themselves pretty much."

His building had a doorman and he held the door for Thomas and me when we arrived. "Thank you, James," Thomas said to the doorman, "By the way, this is Rachael, my good friend. You will be seeing a lot of her from now on."

"Pleasure to meet you, Rachael," he said, with a smile and a tip of his hat. I smiled at the doorman and we went on inside. We walked across the entry and called the elevator. "I live on the fifth floor," Thomas said. He pushed the button for the fifth floor and the door closed.

Once the elevator door closed and we were alone he pushed me back against the back wall. "I have to kiss you, Rachael," he said. I wasn't about to debate the point. He leaned down and we kissed for the first time.

His kiss was incredible. I felt electric sparks and my head began swimming. I couldn't tell if it was the elevator or him making the earth move! My knees went weak and I know I moaned, but I don't know if it was aloud or not. He wrapped his strong arms around me and I melted into him.

The kiss was entirely too short for my tastes, but we stopped when we heard the elevator door open to signify we were on his floor.

"Well, we're here," he said, as we reached his door. Thomas fished the key from his blazer pocket and unlocked the door. "Ladies first!" he said, smiling.