Better Late Than Never

Obligatory disclaimer: All characters are over 18 (obviously). The pacing is a little weird and, as usual, I am my own editor (which is not a good thing, believe me). The story is also full of irresponsible behaviour (don't try this at home, kids). I used some pretty common names so if you happen to have the same one I swear this story is not about you.

*

Harry was sitting alone at the bar when she walked in. It was not quite 10 a.m. and the place was empty except for Harry and a surly bartender hacking a bowl of lemons into sloppy wedges. Occasionally the muffled roar of a 747 or the murmur of hotel guests heading down the hall to the free breakfast would trickle in but mostly it was a dark soothing cave of tranquility, a place a man could nurse a beer and escape his life for a few hours. She swept past him leaving a whiff of jasmine in her wake. Something about her made his cock instantly hard.

What the fuck? He looked down at his lap. Sure enough, there was a tent there like he hadn't seen since...well, since he was a younger man.

Baffled, he stole a glance at her over the top of his glass watching her settle into a booth at the back. Pretty enough but nothing special he concluded. She was what he thought of as classy: black pencil skirt, cream silk blouse and a discrete flash of gold as she pushed back her dark hair. Not a hint of cleavage or a French manicured talon in sight. She looked like all the women who hired him to renovate their kitchens and then complained about the mess and inconvenience.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. For some reason, after night of ignoring perfectly good internet porn his penis had decided to sit up and take notice of some random stranger, a stranger who was not Harry's type at all. Nope, not even close, he confirmed taking another look. Too stylish. Too dignified. Too small in the chest area. And she was his age for chrissakes. When was the last time he had fucked someone his age? Oh yeah, his ex wife. And look how that turned out.

She summoned the bartender with an imperious wave of her hand.

Hope she didn't order the wine, Harry shuddered watching the man shuffle away to get her drink. He took another sip of his lukewarm IPA wondering why someone like her was staying at the Restwell airport hotel never mind hanging out in it's shabby nameless lounge.

The bartender brought her what looked like a double whiskey. She threw it back in one quick gulp signaling for another before the glass hit the table. As she waited she extracted a heavy cardboard box from the bag beside her and placed it on the table with a look of exasperation. Involuntarily intrigued, Harry tried to keep his eyes to himself but for some reason they kept being drawn to the corner booth and its single occupant.

Suddenly he found himself caught in her gaze.

He quickly switched his attention to a painting of a beached sailboat hanging just behind her but she was already giving him a smile and offering him the empty space beside her with a cool nod of her head.

Now what was he doing? Harry's legs, it appeared, had also decided to develop a mind of their own. They slid him off the barstool and propelled him across the room. He had just enough time time to grab his jacked and hold it in front of him like some hormonal thirteen year old. He made a mental note to see his doctor when he got home in case this was some form of senile dementia setting in early.

"Hi," he said praying he had not misread her gesture.

"Hello," she smiled up at him and held out an elegant hand. "I'm Elaine."

"Harry." Her hand was soft and cool with slim fingers that were devoid of jewelry. The surprisingly firm grip sent a fresh jolt of inappropriate lust to his privates. He sat down and hoped he wasn't about to embarrass himself.

"Can I buy you another beer?"

"Sure." Why not, he thought. Try something new. The last time a woman bought him a drink was never.

"I guess my next line should be 'I normally don't do this'" For a moment, she looked shy, almost like an eighteen year old girl on her first date.

Harry settled into the booth and discretely adjusted his pants searching his brain for something to say that wouldn't come off as creepy, or just plain stupid.

"So are you on your way to somewhere?" he asked.

"No, I just came here for nightlife and the scenery," Elaine smiled. "I hear the runways are especially beautiful this time of year."

"So they say," Harry laughed.

"Actually I'm trying to kill a couple of hours before my flight. I tried the breakfast buffet down the hall but the sight of all those people fighting over cheap bacon and sausages kind of put me off" She smiled wryly. "Don't get me wrong, I like a hearty breakfast as much as the next person. It's just that..." She waved her hand dismissing whatever thought she had.

"Me too," Harry said. "I mean the killing time thing," he added. He had no prejudice against sausages. Or bacon, whatever the quality.

"I figured this place would be pretty quiet."

"At this time of day, yeah. Good guess."

"I would have been home by now if I hadn't listened to my mother in law and gone for the deal." Elaine smiled wryly. "The flight was overbooked, of course. What about you?"

"Same," Harry shrugged. "That's ok though. Some bad room service and a couple of drinks in the morning helps me unwind after the obligatory family holiday visit."

"There was drama I take it."

"Ex wife was there. Things got tense."

"Not an amicable divorce?"

"It's tough being friends with someone who cheats on you and then wants half of everything you earned with your own blood and sweat."

Elaine nodded in seeming sympathy. She was probably wondering what he did to drive Linda to it, Harry mused bitterly. Even to himself he sounded like a whiner.

"What's in there?" he said, desperate to change the subject. He nodded towards the small cardboard box that lay between them on the table.

"My husband. What's left of him."

"Oh shit. I'm sorry." Harry wished he had one of his sixteen ounce framing hammers handy so he could bash some sense into his brain.

"Don't be." Elaine paused to tilt her glass and examine the remaining sip of whisky pooling at the bottom.

"What did he...?"

"Die of? Brain aneurism while we were visiting his parents in Florida. I tried to talk his mother into keeping the ashes since they were so close but she was having none of that. Ours was a love for the ages you see." She glared at the box as if she would like to knock it right off the table. "Now I have to figure out what to do with them. I'll probably just take them down to the beach one night and toss them into the ocean. Efficient yet sentimental." She tipped the last drops of whiskey her glass into her mouth. "Then I can finally get on with my life."

Harry didn't know quite what to say to this so he wisely said nothing.

"Everyone thought we had a perfect marriage." Elaine turned the now empty glass over in her hands. "I guess on paper we did. We met in university. I was getting my BA in English literature, he was doing a PhD in philosophy. He became a professor, of course."

"Do you teach too?"

"Me? No," Elaine laughed. "I own a small but very successful chain of yoga studios. Built it up from practically nothing too. Joel didn't completely approve of course. He thought it a bit...sordid...I guess. Then again, he did like the money coming in. And he could brag to all our progressive friends how proud he was that I out earned him."

"Let me get the next round," Harry said downing the last of his beer.

"Ok," Elaine smiled up at him. "Thank you."

Harry summoned the bartender and ordered another pint for himself and a whiskey for Elaine. He was mildly impressed by her ability to out drink him. His brain was starting to get a little confused. He was having a hard time coming up with neutral and appropriate things to add to the conversation. She, on the other hand, appeared to be completely lucid and in control of herself.

"Sounds like a pretty good marriage," he said finally hating the platitude and wishing he could take it back as soon as it left his mouth.

"Sure. If you like interesting and fulfilling careers, shared values and a reasonably comfortable life in a big renovated Victorian house surrounded by maples." Elaine paused while the bartender came back and put down their drinks. She picked up her glass and took a long sip. "Too bad all I ever really wanted was a good dirty fuck."

Harry froze, his own glass halfway to his lips. His brain tried to process what had just come out of this prim woman's mouth. It gave up.

"The trouble with Joel was that he was so serious about life." Elaine went on saving Harry the trouble of coming up with something to say. "He couldn't floss his teeth without turning it into a lecture on the class struggle and the nature of dental care. Sex was no different. It had to have a higher purpose, don't you know. After a while all that tantric massaging and devotion to my 'needs' got to be a bit much, especially since I was expected to produce the expected appreciation." Elaine sighed. "All the while he was doing his best to satisfy me I was getting through it by picturing some brute holding me down and pounding me into a pulp with his cock. I guess that makes me a bad person."

"We like what we like," Harry observed philosophically casting a glance down at his twitching pants.

"I never told him, of course. He was kind of a fragile soul. I was actually relieved when he eventually lost interest. It took the pressure off and I was free to fantasize without the distracting intrusion of his efforts."

Elaine stopped to take another drink smiling sadly "Of course there was a certain level of frustration. I swear sometimes it felt like my panties were going to explode. Sometimes we would be out somewhere, maybe just walking down the street, and some random man would catch my eye. All I could think about was what he would feel like between my legs. He wouldn't have to be especially young or handsome, just reasonably fit and strong with that, I don't know, smell of testosterone about him."

She fixed her gaze on Harry's beefy forearm sliding her eyes over the tattoos that decorated it.

Harry revised his earlier assessment of her intoxication or lack thereof. Obviously alcohol was playing a part in this increasingly awkward conversation. He opened his mouth to say something and hopefully steer things in a more neutral direction but she was already talking again.

"There was one time we were picking up duck at our favorite hole in the wall barbecue place. I was watching some middle aged guy chop roast pork for the customer ahead of us trying to distract myself while Simon tried his newly learned and appalling Cantonese on the poor girl behind the counter. The way the man held the cleaver....the way his muscles flexed... I imagined that arm holding me down, slamming my wrists into the dirty tiles in the back while he shoved himself into me..."

Harry swallowed hard. His penis reminded him of it's presence yet again by throbbing painfully against his jeans. "You know, you really shouldn't be saying things like that to strange men in deserted bars."

"Why not? What's the worst that can happen?" She frowned up at him. "Besides, its too late. No one is going to want me that way anyway." Her head drooped as she stared down at her hands. "The best I can hope for is a few tedious dates with some nice man who will talk a lot about respect and companionship, maybe take to a golf resort for the weekend. Ugh."

"It's never too late for anything."

"Really? Should I get a tinder profile? Maybe hit the clubs? Don't you think that would be a bit sad? I mean even you...would you have looked at me twice if some twenty year old in a tight dress walked in and gave you a smile?"

Elaine gulped the last of her drink and put her glass down, quietly this time. Surely it was a trick of the light and not a tear that glistened on her cheek.

Harry retreated into his beer trying to process what was happening.

They were sitting so close now that he swore he could feel her thigh pressing against his although technically they were not touching. The quarter inch of space between them tingled with electricity. Don't do it, his brain warned him. No good can come of it. You're right, brain, you're right, he admitted even as every cell in his body gravitated towards the woman beside him.

She was quiet, lost in her own thoughts, maybe regretting what she had revealed. She shifted a little closer to him not noticing that the top button of her blouse had come undone. The shadowed swell of her breasts rose and fell with her breath.

Hypnotized, Harry brushed her leg with his knuckles almost by accident. He felt her twitch, a quick pulse that came and went in less than a second. She did not move away. He skimmed a cautious palm over her thigh. It trembled ever so slightly under his touch.

Taking a deep breath, he slid his hand under the hem of her skirt discovering, to his surprise and delight she was wearing stockings. The bare skin beneath his hand was soft and damp. She squirmed in her seat moving forward and opening her legs just a little. A small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a grunt, almost imperceptible even in the quiet bar, escaped her mouth.

In that moment, Harry was lost. Throwing caution to the winds, he loomed over her crushed her against the faux leather back of the banquette and kissed her.

It wasn't his best kiss. It was crude and loutish with a lack of finesse that belonged to another, less enlightened, century. It was the kiss of a beast, a marauder, a despoiler of innocence. It did not seduce but claimed and conquered and trampled all resistance in a surge of ravening need.

Elaine didn't seem to mind. She arched her back so that her breasts pressed against him and opened her mouth to Harry's invading tongue.

Unable to resist, he delved into the valley between her legs as she moaned into his mouth. A small scrap of cotton covered the spot where her thighs met. Harry pressed two fingers hard against the strip of damp fabric right where he knew a certain little bundle of sensitive nerves would be. A strangled gasp was his reward as she clamped her thighs together to hold him in place and jerked her hips up against his hand.

It was all the invitation he needed.

He nudged the crotch of Elaine's panties aside and slid those two eager fingers right up inside her. For a long few moments he let himself revel in the experience sliding his fingers in and out of her, circling his thumb over her clit, feeling her shake and shudder against his chest.

Finally, common sense prevailed and he made himself pull back. She was lying in his arms eyes closed, lips parted and swollen, loose and completely, it seemed, at his mercy. He wrenched himself away and shook his head to clear it.

"Wow" Elaine leaned back catching her breath.

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry. I'm a little drunk. I shouldn't have..."

"Don't." She tossed a look of distaste at the cardboard box. "Don't be such a gentleman. I'm a grown woman. I'll tell you when to stop."

"What if I don't stop?"

"Actually I don't think I'll tell you to so irrelevant. Unless of course that was a pity grope and you're already regretting it."

Harry took a deep breath. What the hell was he doing? He didn't even know this woman who was staring up at him, eyes lustrous with longing...

"Fuck it..." He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and once again commandeering her mouth.

With his other hand he resumed the invasion of her pussy gradually picking up the pace until she was clenching around him. She might have been nearing the end of her fertile years but her vaginal walls were convinced she was twenty. They were going to need some napkins to wipe up the mess she was making on the seat..

She moaned something unintelligible into his mouth as she let go of her glass and gripped the edge of the table, white knuckled, spreading her legs to give him better access. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the bartender carefully wiping the back counter in slow, methodical strokes.

"Shit." Harry broke away from Elaine once again. "Too bad I checked out already." He leaned back and raked a trembling hand through his hair.

"Me too. What are we going to do?"

"Well, there's the bathroom..." Harry joked.

To his surprise she looked at him in anticipation. As if he was serious.

"Look, you've had a few drinks and..." His offhand comment was gaining momentum fast and Harry didn't want someone else's bad decisions on his conscience.

"Oh God, not this again. You're as bad as Joel. Fine. If you're worried I may have regrets with legal consequences here..." She grabbed his phone and tapped the camera. She slid it into video mode with her thumb and then propped it up against her glass before pressing record.

"My name is Elaine Richardson," she said into it. "I fully consent to sex with, Harry, the owner of this phone, in the public bathroom of this tacky hotel bar. Whatever he does to me short of death and dismemberment is a-ok with me. Furthermore..."

Harry didn't hear the rest. His mind was spinning as he scoped out the shortest route to the back hallway. The bartender had disappeared into the back leaving them alone.

Done, she tossed his phone on the table and lifted her chin in an obvious challenge.

"Ok, let's do this," Harry said with a tenuous flash of confidence. He held out his hand to help her out of her seat and led her to the back where one of the three bathrooms was a self contained gender neutral one with a locking door.

He ushered her inside one hand on the small of her back as if guiding her to a theater seat or restaurant table. Always the gentleman, he laughed to himself. He locked the door and stood back to let her get used to the idea and give her one last chance to call it off.

He half expected her to change her mind but she looked at him impatiently waiting for him to take the lead in whatever was going to happen next. She probably thought he did this all the time.

Quite honestly, he was terrified. Despite what his tattoos and swagger might say this was the first time he'd done anything like this. The closest he had ever come was a quick grope of a girlfriends tits in a motel pool before they scurried upstairs to the privacy of their room. It was a lot of responsibility being some woman's fantasy, especially when that fantasy had been years in the making. His initial worries about being charged with sexual assault paled in comparison to the awful possibility that he might disappoint her, that in spite of it's earlier behavior, his dick might quit be up to the task.

He consulted the dog-eared memories of all the dirty movies he'd ever seen then sifted through the last hour's conversation trying to put together some semblance of a plan. He watched her put her purse down carefully on the floor and start sliding her feet out of the black pumps she was wearing.

"No," he ordered springing into action, "leave them on. Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs."

To his relief she smiled faintly and did as she was told.

He decided to take things slow, partly to heighten the tension, partly to give himself time to figure out his next move. Casually he strolled to where she was braced against the wall and stood behind her admiring the view.

Whatever she was doing to stay in shape was definitely working, Harry thought as he took in the firm twin swells that tautened the fabric of her skirt. She looked as good as a lot of women half her age. Heck, she looked better than most eighteen year olds these days. Apparently his penis was not so stupid after all. It had definitely steered him right for a change. Maybe it was time to start listening to it and not his brain which told him that tight dresses, four inch heels and and a pouty smile were where it was at.