© by RJWing and Skydax 7/20/98 With skepticism she studied the art work. It was a small cyber-illustration but large enough that he would easily take in the sensual beauty of the woman. The face in the portrait was barely visible because of the deep brown permed curls that fell along the cheeks, to the shoulders of the soft woman. Dressed only in loose shorts, the model's bare chest was mature and supple. She herself really looked nothing like the little painting...though her own body was not far from the likes of the one done in oils. Her own hair was very short, and her legs were hardly thin and silky -- aged too early with varicose veins. But she would send the picture, with a poem about her own naked body and how comfortable, at ease she was with him. She opened the viewer, book marked the picture for perhaps a later reference. Opened up the "mail document", attached the URL and sent the sensuous message... A yellow exclamation mark appeared suddenly in the right hand corner of the Netscape screen. She smiled, clicking on the icon to accept the incoming e-letter, perhaps they were crossing in the mail and she would not have to wait long for his warm reaction to the sent graphic. His responses were always warm, and sometimes even downright erotic, sending poetry that had the power to bring moisture to that area he called "the garden," resting, waitng for his touch nestled between her thighs. Once in an exchange of giggling fantasies, beneath cools sheets and in Warner Brother voices..."I wheely, wheewy, wove you!" He had talked gently...hesitantly... about her "clearing the garden" ... was it truly a garden? was that how he thought? -- so he could see her. And she did. Some weeks later.Without telling him. Eight powder blue gillet plastic razors, and nervous fingers, worked to uncover herself. She had been shocked. Literally. Having no idea what to expect.... the petals of which he so often spoke, were not those of a firm young maiden...and she laughed softley, uneasily ...at the realization that "sagging" covers much female territory as a woman becomes older. If it bothered him...he never told her. Instead thanked her often for being willing and would bury his head between her legs, his long hair draping across her nakedness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~somewhere across the country~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was 54 years old, had fathered three daughers who were now living their own lives, in other cities. He had been married twice, and divorced twice...although his second divorce had taken awhile to “settle.” Not financially (he’d been drunk through most of it, and simply wanted to keep his pathetic pension away from his ex’s greedy hands...well, greedy was uncharitable...but she had been disappointed in his inability to make rivers of green flow into their bank account). Emotionally, it had been difficult, because they were both insecure...and if it had been a contest, there would have been no winner...only, if one looked at it in those terms...losers. Now, as if in another life...and it was, in many senses of that word...he was talking with another woman on-line. She enjoyed his repartee in the instant message mode of AOL. He’d read her “profile” as she had read his. They were amazingly similar in many ways...except for the fact that she was married. Although she chided him quite often with the phrase that he was still "more married than she was." Well...he couldn’t really argue with that (although he did). The fact was that certain emotional bonds had yet to be severed...and even after they’d met in “real life,” and she had stayed at his apartment (while he stayed at his ex’s place), the tentative nature of all relationships lingered like the threat of a thunderstorm over them. The first time was still vivid in his memory. He had not known quite what to expect (and he knew she had no idea at all, for the photo he’d sent was five years old, showed no grey hair, unlike his current photos, none of which he could even stand to look at, let alone frame or display, and certainly didn’t show the deeper lines around his eyes and mouth, most of which was hidden now by a nearly white beard). But, he was wearing an "agreed upon" straw cowboy hat -- and somehow, she did recognize him...and from a tiny face in a photo showing a group of thirty or forty faces...he recognized her. He liked her, immediately. There was something about her smile he found magnetic, and...sexy. In fact, he still remembered how clumsy he had been with her, finding the truck in the airport parking lot, even putting her luggage in the back of his small 4X pick-up. At his age, he’d met his share of women (as he later confided to her), and he had lately developed a rather “cool” exterior -- certainly not cool in the sense that younger people used the word...but “cool,” as in -- distant, unreachable emotionally, and constantly on guard. But, depsite his awkwardness (eerily like that of a teenager) he began to like her even more, for she laughed, not at him, but with him. He made small jokes about his clumsiness, and she laughed. Well... you could have worse beginnings, he thought to himself (and with a shock, realized he was thinking in those terms...despite his on-going relationship to his ex, to whom he had been faithful for 24 years). When they parted, that first visit, and she suprised him by asking for a kiss, he complied... not out of any sense of “gentlemanliness”, he had to admit that to himself...he complied because he was curious. What was it like to kiss a woman who asked to be kissed? What was it like to kiss someone other than his ex (who didn’t really care for kissing, anyway...whatever the circumstances). He felt, and enjoyed, the shock of their lips touching. He also had the deep sense, somewhat unnerving, that things were going to change a great deal. By the time she came to visit again, he’d had several horrible fights with his ex. His ex was a woman who knew how to respond to hurt (or perceived hurt) in one way -- fight back, tooth and nail. She was good at ripping his psyche (he supposed he had become good at that, himself...but he no longer allowed himself that dubious luxury...he was tired of fighting...it was one reason he’d said yes to separation, and later to divorce, in the first place). His attention to his ex was beginning to fade, in proportion to the interest he found in this new relationship. So, it was...that during her second stay, he did accept what he perceived as her invitation to bed. Once again, the teenaged clumsiness replaced what he’d thought of as “easy movements...assured and embellished by practice...” But... this wasn’t his ex...it wasn’t anyone he’d ever gone to bed with before. She was different...and he was unsuccessful, and embarrased. So, it was with surprise, on a subsequent visit by this woman, he discovered she had actually taken part in one of his fantasies -- she did a strip-tease (he’d mentioned that he wanted to see a woman, professionally dressed and very proper looking, remove her clothes), and...to his greater suprise he noticed (though she had mentioned this during a phone conversation), that she had shaved between her legs. He was stunned by her beauty. He had seen her body before... and it was more than pleasant to him. After all, he was hardly the “healthy specimen” he had always aspired to be, earlier in his life, (mark) The years and abuse had taken their toll on him. And he was mesmerized by her easy, flowing moments, though he knew this wasn’t something she’d done often (he wondered if she’d ever done a strip-tease for her husband....he knew his ex wouldn’t even consider the thought). Most of all, he was mesmerized by the beauty of her sex. She had been so worried, he knew (form phone conversations) about her appearance “down there.” Now, she danced, almost with a kind of shy pride...and with good reason, he thought -- she is beautiful. He couldn’t wait to experience the touch... the taste, of those beautiful lips. Date: Sat, 12 July l998 9:21:41 Subject: Greeners From: Doug Mick -- dmick@trip.com -- Hi, you! I gotta tellya, RJ...the young ones out here are the most beautiful women I've ever seen. And...yeah...I know I'm old enough to have fathered any of them...but I also know I haven't... And, I gotta tell your about Liz...I mean...geeze...Rae -- this woman is killer! She's shy and sexy...rides a Harley with the Brothers Fast gang, and she likes me! You know, RJ...I think my bro' and I deserve it, but...awww...Christ, we're both...you know...fifty something, him and me...even Liz knows a geezer when she sees one -- she just likes 'em riding a hog, that's all. Gotta run...the boss calls. DM Ahhhh....how ironic that she would be sitting, doing an inventory on her soon-to-be-49 year old body and here comes the e-mail from the man who is lamenting his own age....Only yesterday she had told him about "greeners"...those new young things hired at work who were indeed babies and had no sense of the richness of some men.... "yeah, yeah, yeah"...I had tried to champion the older woman...but he wanted a "greener". But didn't most men? Even her soon to be ex seemed to be mesmerized by a woman who "looks younger". "Have you seen Lilith? She just turned forty but everyone says shelooks thirty easily and she does!" And she must for Rae's best friend told her the same thing only adding. "But she's a real bitch". As if that really mattered. She read Doug's e-letter again. Ahhh you silly man. You know perfectly well, it does matter. Or it should. "AND" she wanted to type back to him. "SPEAK FORYOURSELF!! Don't go claiming that your ‘bro"...MY MAN...(she laughed at the phrase) deserves one of these babies!" What is it Doug wanted anyway? Did he think an older woman was not capable of arousing a man to howling sensual proportions? Surprising herself, she discovered she could. And not only could, wanted to. With great pleasure she had come to love the exploration of Scott's body. She loved finding new places where her tongue, especially, could bring forth from somewhere deep within him wonderous guttural sounds. She liked especially, using a combination of fingers, moist lips and tongue when massaging his blood filled shaft...or caressing the soft area below that shaft, searching for that particular spot which with various touches sent his body writhing, his hands often holding her head, face, mouth against the surging flow. What "greener" had the desire, the strength, the want of meeting the challenge of "his" body. She would straddle him, proud to be naked upon him, locked in the ectasy of his movements as he would raise both their hips as they rode the energy of each others thrusts. Under him, she would brace her hands against the back wall, holding his body tightly with her legs as he drove into her, and she could not help but smile and almost laugh with complete, abandoned joy at the feel of him, the sense of him as she basked in the beauty of his arched back, wild hair, alive with the richness of the merging of heart and soul and body. "Mendota! You want to cyber with a young hot dick?" Her profile read that she was a babyboomer. She learned very quickly on AOL that if divorced or separated, a woman annoucing she was "middle- aged" was an open invitation for a wide variety of propositions..the assumption being that she was lonely and had no sex life. She loved being able to tell these young men .."you're too young...I've got my own hot one...and he's 54." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ across the country ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Doug and Scott often met at the Mexican food restaurant in RedRock, a small town with a large university campus. The food was good, and, as Scott recalled (though it had been years since he’d had a drink), they made a mean Margarita (“salt 'n' rocks!” was the order they’d give the bartender, while waiting for a table). But it wasn’t the “salt 'n' rocks” or the food that truly attracted Doug. It was the beautiful young women that seemed to appear by the hundreds at thisparticular establishment. Many of them worked at the bar, as well...and Doug knew them all by name. They were undeniably lovely -- slim... perfect skin, firm breasts that were usually enticingly apparent by virtue of their nipples, and the young women knew precisely attracted attention. Still... it was the attention of younger men (or “men of means”) that they solicited -- and Scott knew neither Doug nor he himself belonged to either group. But it was Friday, and he had nothing better to do, so Scott joined Doug at the bar, where Doug seemed to be delighting in a bizarre form of self-torture -- “Oh, my God, Scott...did you see her?” Scott managed to refrain from rolling his eyes as he would turn in the direction of Doug’s gaze (as unobtrusively as Doug was not). On this particular night, Doug’s eye was on a brunette...one, Scott could not help but notice, was easily two or three years younger than his own youngest daughter. But...she was beautiful, there was no debate about that -- her short, dark hair framed an exotic face, olive complexion, pert nose...full and very sensuous looking lips. Even Scott couldn’t help trying to imagine kissing those lips. But, while he tried...he couldn’t. Even as Doug's eyes were wandering over the young woman's body...touching those delicate nipples (perhaps even tasting them in his imagination), Scott's thoughts were on Rae's's breasts. They were firm and round, and Scott knew very well how they looked...how they felt (especially when she took his throbbing erection between them, and moved up and down...caressing and further exciting him, until he felt as though he would explode). A voice called him from this personal vision, and he looked up. Doug was introducing him to someone. “This is Liz...” Doug was saying, with a kind of “fatherly”(?) pride that was a bit unsettling to Scott, considering where his own thoughts had been wandering. Liz had jet-bla, probably close to 6’ tall (did she play basketball? Scott thought, aimlessly), with a natural beauty that required little to no make-up (if she were wearing it...she was damned good at using it, but he strongly suspected she wasn’t -- she didn’t need any “packaging”), and she had the body of a a female athlete of what Scott thought of as the “Swan-Lake” persuasion....lithe and graceful -- perhaps she was a swimmer? a gymnast? “Lisa’s very much into mountain-climbing...” Doug did a weird kind of “ve vant to pump *you* up!!” gesture (he was into his second Margarita, as Scott was still nursing a “baby beer”, the collegiate term for non-alcoholic beer). He was showing off his friend...and here was a very attractive young woman to show off... (if not just a little bit...adolestcent?) but Doug had slipped past the line already. Scott knew it. Perhaps Doug would know it tomorrow, perhaps not....didn’t matter. The moment was awkward. Scott shook the firm hand of the mountain-climbing young beauty. Unbidden, but unavoidable...another image began to form, even as Lisa (clearly uncomfortable because Doug had become more than a bit “loud”) was about to ask him what he wanted to order for dinner. Scott mumbled a “Glad to meet you...” followed by an order he knew by heart (“Enchiladas de Pollo”). And once again his mind wandered to Rae. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~back east, somewhere...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Jalel!!!" Grandma Jean, with two fingers, turned the young girl's face towards her. "You look absolutley wonderful! Why look at you. When did you grow to be so beautiful?" Rae settled the two overnight bags next to the small director's chair in the tiny living room.. Her own grinn matched her daughters as the grandparents fussed over the teenager. "What happened to the pimples?" Grandpop added. Jalel rolled her eyes at Rae, who shot back a knowing look. Ahhh, what a horrible visit that had been six months earlier when Grandpop decided that Jalel was being neglected because of three very large "zits" that encompassed the girl's small mouth. But that was then and this is now, andJorrie, just a couple months shy of being eighteen looked wonderfully tan, healthy and even downright sexy. While Rae never accepted the story of the ugly duckling blossoming for herself growing up (one her mother told over and over again), it had happened for Jalel. "Rae," the bright tone leaving Jean. "But as good as Jalel looks, you don't. You look very pale and your face is too thin.. How come Jalel looks so good and you don't? " Jalel's smile faded, whirling to catch her mother's facial response. Rae didn't skip a beat. "Jean, maybe because Jalel is not yet 18 years old and I am three weeks away from being 49." "49," Rae's Dad muttered. " You are old." "Yeah," Rae retored..."And that makes you ancient!" and she wondered if her remark bit into him as his did her. Jalel had become everything they said. And it was only recently, that Ray began to "feel" the age of being the mother of a beautiful daughter. She had remembered a conversation a long while back with her good friend Cathy when this realization had hit Cathy about her own child, Heather. Rae had met Cathy when Heather was two. She always thought of the child as a small yellow duckling..with a bottom that waddled and a patch of curly yellow hair a top her head. At sixteen, the toddler had become a knockout displaying her blonde tressles against tight black leather. Low cut t-shirts at the family/friend dinners, caused a stir among the male guests as she would knowingly bend over to serve just the right piece of meat. Cathy, once a beauty herself, began to eat out of shame that she was jealous of her daughter and grew to depressiver proportions. But Jalel did not wear leather, and her chest was small and she often wore a ponytail and she was more obsessed with wearing namebrand clothes, than if a boy was paying attention. But eventually, Jorrie would care what a boy thought...or maybe even a man. Jalel a ‘greener?' Rae shivered at the thought....Oh Scott, she wondered. You have raised three beautiful girls. How did you do it? How do you raise girls that men will look at and want to touch them? How do you tell them...to only want to be touched by the likes of you....and yet... you were not always kind about the lovingof your women. They were not always "names" to you....how do we get to where we are....and she wanted at that moment to reach across the miles....to reach him. There would be no phone tonight. She would sleep with Jorrie, giving her bed to her parents. There might be a brief conversation and though she felt very comfortable in front of Jalel saying "I love you" to Scott, she would not be able to touch him through the phone.... -- to be continued... -- copyright RJWing (Renee Jaskulek) and Skydax (DS Farrar)