"Do you want to see my tits, or not?"
That was Donna. I met Donna a week earlier at the local senior center. She's Italian. She tells me she's not prone to anger but she is very direct.
My name is Roger Wright, I'm fifty-seven years old and I suddenly found myself unmarried and alone in a house too large for two let alone one. I guess I wasn't "wright" for my wife of thirty-five years. That's a story I'd rather not talk about.
For fifteen months I hung in, hoping for a miracle, but when the gavel fell and the final signatures on the divorce papers were dry, I realized that my divorce was a reality. My kids were incredibly supportive throughout and my daughter was adamant that I get out of the house and get involved with the rest of the world. Her suggestion was the local senior center where she told me, they had things to do like play cards and chess and generally have folks in similar situations to my own. She even suggested I might meet a woman who would be open to a relationship, "wink, wink."
A week later, on a Friday, I drove across town to the senior center. A very nice woman several years older than I was, greeted me, gave me a tour of the facility and introduced me to several of the regulars. I wandered around for several hours and discovered the exercise pool in the separate building behind the main building. It appeared to be three feet deep and there were several women walking back and forth in the water for exercise. A couple of other women were resting on lounge chairs around the pool. Most were wearing one-piece suits but three of them were in two-piece, bikini style suits that they were totally unsuited for. Nothing attractive about any of them. I've never been inclined to water sports and I left the building for probably the last time.
Back in the main building, there were several activity rooms surrounding a main room with a small dance floor and a huge television. One room was devoted to games, mostly card games. There were several games in progress, pinochle, bridge, canasta for four players and a couple of two-handed games like Rummy.
Another room was dedicated to crafts. Many women were working on quilts and two were knitting. One was sitting at a card table working on a large jigsaw puzzle. The next room was a library with comfortable overstuffed chairs and racks of mostly paperback books. The final room was empty, consisting of just groupings of chairs, probably for conversations.
I went home, determined to come back on Monday early enough to maybe get into a card game before it started.
On Monday, I arrived early, before opening. I was drafted by three women looking for a fourth for bridge. Donna Russo won me for her partner. It took one game for me to get my bridge playing mojo up to speed and Donna and I cleaned the other women's clocks in the final two games. The game broke up for a break. Donna and I headed for the conversation room to talk and get to know each other better.
I'd been out of the dating game for over thirty-five years but it took only about ten minutes to figure out that Donna was interested in more than just my skill at bridge. My daughter had spent the last year telling me I was still an attractive man. She repeatedly emphasized that I was one of those men who grew more attractive the older I got. I was beginning to believe she was correct as I talked to Donna and she smiled and leaned in my direction as she talked.
Donna is an attractive woman about my age. Her Italian heritage is apparent. She has long, dark hair, naturally puffy lips and eyes that bore right through you to your soul. She isn't slim but she's not close to the size of most of the other women. Her bumps and curves are perfectly sized and placed. She'd look fine in a two-piece bathing suit. I tried to imagine her at the pool with her hair wet and water dripping off her breasts.
Eventually, Donna suggested she could use something to drink. I left her sitting in a chair when I went to the pantry to get each of us coffee. When I returned, Donna had moved to a sofa and indicated that I sit next to her while we drank our coffee.
Donna's Italian heritage was on display as we talked. Her hands were in constant motion and she touched me often, mostly on my arm or leg. We discovered we had something in common. My marriage had died as had her husband. That first day together, we left the senior center and went to lunch.
I met Donna again on Tuesday morning. Team Donna and Roger took all three games of Bridge against the same pair of ladies we played on Monday. Afterward, we walked around the garden next to the senior center and went to lunch again.
Wednesday, the ladies we played Bridge against on Monday and Tuesday, were looking for different opponents. Donna and I commandeered a card table and I taught her how to play Cassino, a fast two-person card game. Donna cleaned my clock. I surrendered and we went to lunch for the third day in a row.
Thursday, Donna wasn't at the senior center. I sat with the women I played Bridge against Monday and Tuesday and I taught them how to play Oh Hell. The game lends itself to unusual and blatant moves and sacrifices that deliberately sabotage an opponent. The nature of the game leads to frequent and loud expressions of frustration and exhilaration. We attracted considerable attention, some curious and some condemning the noise.
Friday, Donna was back. She sat with the three of us from Thursday and we taught her Oh Hell. She cleaned our clocks. Later, we walked in the garden again, this time holding hands. There was an obvious spring in her step and lightness in her voice. We went to lunch together, spent the afternoon in a local park, walking, feeding the ducks and sitting quietly in the sun.
Late in the afternoon, I asked Donna if she would have dinner with me. "I thought you'd never ask," she said before she enthusiastically agreed. She left to go home to prepare. I went home, showered, shaved and dressed nicely for our first official "date."
Donna looked spectacular, dressed for dinner. Her hair was up on her head, her makeup was light and almost invisible. She wore a teal blue dress with a deeply scooped neck, a wide belt and a short skirt. She draped a white scarf around her neck that added a sense of decency. She wore three-inch heels that stretched her calves invitingly and changed the nature of her walk wantonly.
We went to a local Italian restaurant. Donna chided me playfully, suggesting I was courageous bringing an Italian woman who liked to cook to an Italian restaurant. I ordered chicken piccata and a bottle of Sangiovese Reserva. Donna ordered a salad, "to preserve her figure," she said and drank her share of the wine. We finished with a pair of excellent Cannolis that we fed to each other.
After dinner, we went back to the park. The ducks had retired but we walked the paths under the moonless sky, holding hands and generally having a good time. We were sitting on a bench near my car, just enjoying each other's presence when a local police car cruised through the parking lot. The officer paused for a moment as he passed us and then moved on.
"I think we should move on as well," suggested Donna.
I walked her to the passenger side of my car and opened the door for her. Before she entered, Donna paused and looked invitingly up at me. I took a chance and kissed her. She returned the kiss with the same energy that she played cards, unrestrained and fully involved. The first kiss led to a second and then a third kiss. Our mouths opened on the fourth kiss, our tongues intertwined and my right hand settled on her chest below her breast.
Donna increased the intensity of the kiss, took my hand, moved it up and held it firmly on her breast. The kiss ended slowly but my hand lingered. With a look of breathless excitement, Donna settled into the car seat and I gently closed the door.
Behind the wheel, I started the car. "Where to, madam," I asked.
"Would you like to see my tits?" Donna asked.
Startled, I could hardly answer. "That's an unfair question," I said. "Every all-American male I know has only one possible answer and you know what it is."
"I'm not asking 'every all-American male.'" I'm asking you," she said.
"Here?" I asked.
