Author's note:
Dear Reader, this is a standalone story but the main characters first appeared in "Middle-Aged Fuck Doll: Origin Story". This one's a long work for me, about three pages, and takes a while to get to the lovemaking. It's more about the characters and their relationship than the sex. Consider yourself warned and please, please read on.
Rita Morceau is the heroine of many of my stories. Last year I submitted "Rita Plays Pygmalion" for the Pink Orchid event. It was well-received and I hope those readers will like this one as well. Rita is much older in this story and a changed person. She's still a fool for love, though. And she's not the only one who's changed.
This is the last story I intend to write for Rita. If you find her character at all compelling I invite you to explore my Middle-Aged series and Rita's Hits. Some of the titles and contents you may find shocking, even offensive. But I promise romance, hot sex, and a happy ending in every one.
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The story:
An unfamiliar chime made Rita pause. She was about to log off for the night when the friend request arrived. Such requests were uncommon as she wasn't very active on social media. Several times she read the message, searching her memory for the name of her prospective new friend. It came to her and made her laugh.
"Travis Harms," she typed, "Twenty years later and you are FINALLY calling me back."
Seconds ticked by while Travis entered his response. "Yes, late indeed. But I'd like to be friends now if we can."
She dragged the cursor over the Deny button and rested her finger on the mouse. She thought about the last time she saw the younger man, about the trouble their brief but embarrasing affair caused her. She laughed again. Then she remembered the feeling of his hands on her body, of his lips on hers, and for a moment she missed her breath.
She watched the cursor move over the Approve button. She'd be lying if she said she didn't think about him from time to time. If she accepted his request now she could always change her mind later. If she denied it... he might not ask again. She told herself it was only the pragmatic choice. The button clicked.
That done, she closed the chat and powered down the laptop. Her mind was whirling as she went through her nightly routine, preparing for bed. Was she still the foolish woman she was back then? Was she really going to welcome him back into her life? She ought to reject him entirely. She ought to pay him back in some way, make him grovel.
If James was still among the living she would, of course, not have even answered the request. Travis was the one man forbidden to her, the one lover she took without his permission. She was naive then, still smarting from the failure of her first marriage. James was her steady date at the time, very eligible and an upgrade in every way. She turned her back on that to have a fling with a man half her age. James forgave her when Travis tossed her aside. She loved him for that and for many other things. But she could never put Travis entirely out of her mind.
The reflection looked back at her from the dressing room mirror. No... she was fooling herself but not in the way she hoped. He might have found her alluring twenty years ago. But she was in her sixties now and time had run out on her sex appeal. Whatever reason Travis had for making contact, it was not to make love to her.
She treated herself to a dab of a favorite scent, something she hadn't done before bed in a while. She ran a brush over her silver hair and thought of a time when it was a striking shade of bronze. From a lingerie drawer she picked out a sheer black nightgown and tossed it over her head. Giving herself a last look in the mirror, she pulled down her panties and left them hanging on the post of the chair.
Travis Harms might well be visiting her bed, in her dreams, at least.
*****
Vavra's was a special place, a secret garden in the middle of the city. Accessed through an inconspicuous iron gate between a jeweler and a bookstore, it held a dozen little tables under the sky, ideal for intimate meetings. Travis used to bring his dates here when they were teetering on the brink. His date today wasn't ready to be tipped over, though. At this point he hoped only to keep her from running away.
He watched the hostess at the entrance, a buxom, dark-haired beauty, rolling silverware into linen napkins. He studiously avoided looking down at his phone, nervous that he would receive a message of cancellation. He'd waited a long time for this meeting and wouldn't exhale until it was over. Then there she was, giving her name to the hostess, eyes scanning the courtyard for him. Her face lit up when she saw him, making his heart soar.
The passing years showed in the silver of her hair, the heaviness of her frame. But she had that familiar pride in her carriage as she followed the girl to his table and let him hold her chair as she took a seat. Neither spoke as they grinned like idiots at each other. Travis noted the pale streaks of red in her hair, the lines around her eyes and lips that cosmetics couldn't conceal, the note of crepe on the skin of her neck. She wasn't a young woman. But her eyes were still so blue and he felt the gravity that once drew him to her.
Rita broke the ice. "This was a good choice, Mr. Harms. I haven't been here in ages."
He wasn't put off by her use of his last name. He was a little disappointed that this wasn't her first visit here. But she was a cosmopolitan woman. Naturally she would know the local spots.
"I'm glad to see you again, Mrs. Morceau," he replied with a smile. Then, with a practiced look, "I know we have a lot to talk about. But I was thinking we could enjoy the afternoon and, perhaps, talk another time?"
Rita smiled back. "I'm fine with that. It's been a while since I was on a date. It will be nice to have fun for no reason."
"Is this a date?"
"Do you want it to be?"
He searched her face for some sign of intent. Then answered, simply, "Yes."
"That's good, because..." She reached into her purse to retrieve a pair of half-glasses before opening the menu. "...If we can't have fun today then there's no need to talk tomorrow. Would you agree?"
Travis watched her peruse the menu with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, tapping herself on the cheek with her forefinger, as she used to do when she was the teaching assistant in charge of his internship class. In his mind's eye he could see her as she was then -- seemly, sophisticated, unintentionally seductive.
"In that case," he replied, "May I recommend the chicken Artemisia?"
"That does sound good." She looked up from the menu and her eyes lingered on his. "Thank you for reaching out, Travis. I do appreciate it."
A warmth spread over his breast. He folded his own menu and turned his wine glass upright.
"You're very welcome, Rita."
*****
"We keep running into each other." Susan grinned up at Rita and grasped the handrail of the stairclimber. "Jazzercise, the day spa, now the gym. What's going on with you?"
Rita dropped out of the pre-programmed workout and stepped off the machine. She dabbed at her face with a cooling towel.
"Can't a girl just decide to work on herself?" She asked coquettishly.
"Sure. But it's not bikini season and as far as I know you're not trying to fit into a wedding dress. Or are you? Are you getting married?"
Rita laughed. "You have quite the imagination. But I'll let you in on a secret. I'm going out with a guy."
"You're coming out of retirement? That's great. Who's the lucky man?"
"You don't know him," said Rita, "But you know of him."
The two women got hand weights from the rack and carried them into an empty studio. They faced each other and started on arm and shoulder exercises. Rita watched her friend's face as she pondered the mystery man's identity.
"Someone from the firm?"
"You would know him then, wouldn't you," answered Rita.
"The country club?"
"Some likely candidates there, but no," she answered.
"Okay, give me a hint."
