I am recently retired, do some consulting work from home, and live a quiet and very predictable life in a leafy neighborhood of a big city. My two children are grown up and have moved away. I have been living alone since my wife left me ten years ago, and I am really pretty happy that way.
Sex is not a big part of my life. Once in a while hormones build up and I enjoy watching a porn video and masturbating, but it is seldom more than once or twice a month. It does however reassure me that my equipment still works. I tried dating but gave it up as annoying and pointless - any woman who would go out with a man my age is too old to be attractive to me.
My regular schedule includes a walk, a workout at a gym, and once or twice daily stops at a local diner. I go there for morning coffee, sometimes lunch, tea, or dinner. I have known the cafe owner for years, just casually, and have a nodding acquaintance with her continuously changing crew of young servers. It is a pleasant, quiet place, I see a few people I know there, but nobody bothers me.
There was absolutely nothing in this simple senior-citizen life of mine to hint that I was about to embark on the greatest sex adventure of my life.
An ugly incident
This story concerns one of the waitresses, I knew her name was Becky because it was on her name tag. She had a pretty oval face, framed in short brown curls, and a nice smile. At my age I am no longer actively pursuing the fair sex, and like a dog chasing a car, probably wouldn't know what to do if I caught one. But still, old habits die hard, and I do glance at the sexy young girls. But I never particularly noticed Becky's figure, unlike many of the young female staffers she dressed very conservatively, nothing tight or skimpy, low-cut or revealing.
I was at the diner one morning, as per usual. Becky served my coffee and a croissant with a smile. Then a very ugly incident occurred.
A young man I had not seen before barged in and walked straight back behind the counter and began to yell angrily at Becky. She looked first shocked, then angry, and kept trying to shush him, pointing at the customers sitting and watching. He paid no attention to us.
The guy, she called him Paco, was short and soft, the sort of premature obesity you see a lot these days, no doubt from a steady diet of junk food and beer. He was wearing a knit stocking cap, despite the 80° weather, a stylish affectation I particularly abhor. He had a ring through his eyebrow and a couple in his ears, an obvious tattoo on his neck, and no doubt more tattoos that I did not care to look for. His clothing was dark and droopy. In other words Paco looked like a stereotypical dead-end youth of the present day.
Paco refused to be silenced and kept on railing at poor Becky. Unfortunately the cafe owner had stepped out - she was a tough old gal and would have sent him packing, or had the police do it for her.
When Becky tried to get away from Paco by going to the back room he grabbed her by the upper arm, roughly spun her around, pushed her against the back of the counter, and stood face to face, trying to intimidate her. When Becky attempted to slip away from him he grabbed her and started to drag her across the room towards the door. That was enough for me, more than enough in fact.
Despite my age I am in pretty good shape. I jog and work out regularly and watch my diet. I was pretty sure that if it became necessary to resort to violence, I could overpower Paco and literally throw him out. Unless of course he pulled a knife, or a gun, but I didn't think of that until later.
But more important than my physical fitness was my appearance and demeanor. I was an officer in the Marines in Vietnam. Before I retired I was an industrial design engineer and directed a large team of all kinds of people. I am smart and very sure of myself, and it shows in my face. I am also considered handsome, with white hair which I now wear in a neat pony tail - a symbolic gesture adopted since I retired. The bottom line here is that I look and act like an authority figure - with an edge. It also helped that I was six inches taller than the punk kid, and that I could take him by surprise.
I stood up and stepped neatly between Paco and Becky. He stepped back so fast he stumbled and almost fell. I looked him right in the eye and said simply "Get out!".
Paco stepped back again, then his natural orneriness came to the fore and he retorted "So who the fuck are you, old man?"
"I'm the one telling you to get out, and don't come back!" I said very loudly. I advanced menacingly, continued to glare, and he ducked out the door. I could see him outside, unsure what to do next. That's when I thought of the possibility of a knife or gun. But after a few moments of indecision he disappeared.
The other restaurant patrons, six white haired ladies and a young mother with two kids, applauded and smiled at me. I sat down and resumed my newspaper and coffee. A few minutes later Becky brought me a new cup and a fancy pastry as a gift. She smiled shyly and thanked me. "Don't mention it" was all I had to say, and meant it.
Taking her home
But the incident wasn't over.
I walked home, then did errands and my workout. Late in the afternoon I decided that a cup of tea would be nice. I must admit that I was also a bit worried that Paco might have come back to harass Becky again, or worse. I walked to the coffee shop, ten minutes from my house along the greenway path. There was Paco at the cafe, slouching against a parked car by the front window, obviously waiting for Becky to come out so he could resume his diatribe.
"I told you earlier not to come back, remember?" I shot at Paco. He gave me an insolent look and replied "So make me." I didn't feel like getting in any deeper unless it was really necessary, so I just gave him a warning look and went inside.
Becky was behind the counter, crouched down so she could not be seen. She looked frightened and confused. The owner was there now and knew what was going on. I asked if she had called the police. She replied that Paco hadn't actually done anything, so far as she had seen, and that he hadn't even come inside since I had ordered him out.
Now I didn't know this girl, and wasn't looking for a relationship of any kind. But I felt that I had gotten involved in her defense and needed to follow through on it. Old fashioned chivalry, that's what guys like me do instinctively, I even hold doors open for ladies.
I asked Becky what she wanted to do, and if she was afraid of Paco. Yes, she was, and she was trapped in the diner. The solution I proposed was simple - I would go home for my car, pull up at the back door and honk. Becky could jump in and I would drive her away. Paco probably wouldn't even know she was gone.
It worked just fine. The problem came a few blocks away when I asked Becky where she wanted me to take her, assuming from her apparent age that she lived with her parents. No, she said, she couldn't go home. I asked if that was because of Paco and she nodded yes, but she wouldn't say any more. Then she started to cry, which of course is something no decent man has any defense against.
So that was how it started, how I picked up this very young girl and took her home with me. Yes, your honor, my intentions were entirely innocent. No, your honor, my name is not Humbert Humbert.
I didn't live too far from the diner, so it was possible that Paco might spot Becky if he had followed us. I pushed the garage remote button, drove in, and shut the door behind us.
I turned to Becky, who looked very timid and vulnerable. "Well, here we are, so I guess you might as well come in while we decide what to do". She smiled silently, wiped away a tear, and we went in.
"Hungry? I could make some dinner?"
"Sure. I mean please, I'm starving". Becky looked nervous and shy.
I put a couple of all-in-one meals into the microwave. Becky found the plates and cutlery and set the dinette table. In a few minutes we were sitting together in the silent room, feeling rather formal and awkward. I am very fond of wine with my evening meal, and poured a glass for Becky also. That would have been a good time to check her ID, but I didn't think of it.
At first Becky just sat silent with her eyes cast down. Then bit by bit she loosened up and her predicament came out. She was living with Paco but wasn't happy with the relationship. He was threatening to throw her out, but actually wanted her to stay - that's what the anger was all about. She said she was afraid to go home to his apartment that night, he had threatened her and she thought he might get violent. Her parents were divorced and neither lived near enough to be useful in this situation. She didn't have any other family or friends within range, and her car was parked right in front of Paco's apartment.
She was obviously very upset. She only ate half her dinner, stopped entirely when she started talking about her predicament. She only had a small sip of wine, didn't seem to like it.
Spending the night
After a long and awkward pause Becky meekly asked if she could spend the night. She looked up at me plaintively, and I was afraid she was going to cry again.
I had plenty of space, four empty bedrooms in fact, so I said okay, just tonight. There was one other thing - she had only the clothes she was wearing, and they were greasy and smelly from a day of work in the diner. Could she possibly use my washer and drier?
I had no problem with that, but a minute later both of us realized that she would have nothing to wear in the meantime. I got her a huge t-shirt, knowing that girls like to sleep in them, and a pair of my pajamas as a backup. Also a toothbrush, comb, and bath towel.
I showed Becky the second bathroom and a bedroom she could use. She went off to the laundry room. In a minute I could hear the washer running, and a little later the shower. Since I was alone in the kitchen with nothing else to do, I imagined her scampering naked from laundry room to bathroom. My dick twitched.
That was all, just an involuntary twitch. I was not hatching a plan to take advantage of her, or even thinking about how she might look in the nude.
I didn't need a shower because I had taken one at the gym. I normally sleep in old fashioned pajamas, like I had given Becky, and saw no reason to do differently tonight. I briefly considered wearing jockey shorts underneath for extra modesty, but I don't find that comfortable, so I didn't.
I came back out in my pajamas and sat on the big sofa facing the fireplace in the living room. A few minutes later Becky came out, pajama clad and clean, and sat down on the sofa with me, but not right next to me. After a moment she turned sideways, and sat cross-legged, her back against the sofa arm, so she was facing me.
She seemed very cheerful and we talked about this and that, but not about Paco or her problems. We really didn't have much in common, but it was fun nevertheless, I seldom get a chance to chat with young girls these days. She looked adorable in the oversize pajamas, just really cute, not sexy. It was all very innocent.
When Becky got up to switch her clothes from washer to drier I brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. I have video screens in the family room and master bedroom, but the fireplace is the focus of the living room. It was a bit chilly sitting around in pajamas, so I turned on the gas fire. Yes, your honor, I realize that wine and a fire sounds like preparation for a premeditated seduction. Yes, I also dimmed the lights, and put some jazz on the CD player. No, your honor, there were no candles, that would have been going too far, and I really wasn't planning anything at all, just making things pleasant.
When Becky returned she looked around at the dim room and the fire, gave a little nod and smiled. She accepted my offer of a glass of wine, and sipped it very slowly. She confided that she didn't drink much, in fact had never had wine before that night, only beer and some dreadful sweet liquor favored by teenagers. Guessing as much, I had chosen a sweet dessert wine.
It was turning out to be a very pleasant, low-key evening. I had no particular expectations, just assumed we would talk for a while then go to our separate bedrooms. No, I was not aware that sweet wine carries alcohol into the bloodstream faster, thank you for that information, your honor. Yes, I offered her shortbread cookies and chocolates, I realize now how that looks, but at the time I was just trying to be hospitable.
Becky went away to take her clothes out of the drier and hang them up. When she came back I was surprised to see that she was wearing the T-shirt, not the pajamas. She said she felt silly in the big baggy pj's, and slept in a T-shirt normally.
As she walked in I noticed that she had slender shapely legs and a graceful walk. The drape of the T-shirt indicated breasts that were larger than I expected. The shirt was only as long as the shortest mini-skirt and a glimpse of something more than legs was certainly possible - it was not something she could go out in, not even to the mailbox. I wondered fleetingly if she would sit cross-legged again, and realized that of course she had no panties on, they were in the wash.
Okay, up to this point the story has just been about a kindly old man and a girl with a boyfriend problem. But stay with me, it is about to get better. Much better.
Continue with Chapter Two: