I'd been separated about 8 months, and although I'd had a few dates, I guess I was just looking for some good hot sex with no commitments or complications.
So there it was, in one of those contact mags, "Separated mother of three, early thirties, seeks generous gents for hot sexy times", and an accompanying semi naked photo.
She was stunning. Slim, busty, long blonde hair, well it appeared to be blonde in a black and white photograph, and legs than went on forever!
What the hell, I thought, I'm 54 but if I'm paying, who cares. And I can afford to pay, it's just been against my principles to do so. I justified this particular instance, in my mind, by the fact she seemed to be a person in need.
I sent the appropriate reply, with my private and personal mobile number, a phone I only use for making outcalls. Days went by with no reply. Then a hand written reply came to my post office box.
It was her.
We'll call her Sandy (not her real name). She apologised for not calling my mobile but explained she was very "broke" and didn't want to run up her phone bill. She had her home phone number in the letter, but requested I not ring ‘til after 8pm, when the children were in bed.
I became very excited at the prospect of meeting this "spunk" and had great difficulty in containing myself ‘til 8pm.
Dutifully after 8pm that night I phoned. My spine tingled when she answered. Her voice was as sexy as her photograph. I explained who I was and she confounded me by saying she new. I asked her how she knew it was me and she replied "Because yours was the only letter I replied too." I asked why mine only and she said "You're the only one who sounded like a gentleman. There were plenty of replies, most suggesting things I couldn't repeat, offering all kinds of inducement to do all kinds of perverted acts. I'm having enough trouble coming to terms with what I'm about to do, without being physically and mentally abused."
I encouraged her to keep talking, she was obviously very nervous. I wanted her to be comfortable when we eventually met.
She told me she was at her wits end financially, with kids going to school, trying to pay the mortgage, by food etc. and only a part time job. She had thrown her husband out after years of mental torment but he was not supporting her or his children. He reasoned if she got desperate and broke enough she'd beg him to come back. It was a girlfriend who suggested this action, one she'd never dream of, she said. But as she became more and more desperate, she had the girlfriend take the photo, and she submitted it to the contact paper.
We agreed to meet the next night. It was a Friday. The kids were going to stay over at her girlfriends place and I was to come to her home. I asked her what payment she wanted. She was stumped. "I don't know. Pay me what you think it's worth when we're finished."
She really is new to this, I thought and hung up, looking very much forward to tomorrow night.
I own my business and employ 11 staff so my attention is required all the time. But I tell you now, I had the greatest difficulty concentrating on that Friday at work, thinking about the oncoming evening.
I tried to rationalise my excitement, by saying to myself, "look this is just like seeing a prostitute", but no matter how hard I tried to reason it, it just didn't seem that way. She just didn't seem like your hardened whore. She sounded vulnerable, and I guess my protective male instincts were coming to the fore.
I arrived at the arranged time of 8.30pm, a bottle of very good Rosemount Chardonnay tucked under my arm.
She answered the door promptly on my ringing of the bell.
I was gobsmacked!
The photo in the contact paper didn't show her face, just part of her semi-naked body.
She was beautiful! I actually started to wonder whether I was at the right address,
until she spoke. "Rob?" she asked.
"Yes", I stammered.
She stood aside and like a dummy I just stood there looking at her, drinking in her loveliness.
It was an autumn night, just the beginning of a chill in the air. She was wearing calf high, high heeled boots with, what I found out later to be black stockings. A black mini skirt, but not exceptionally short, a white semi-transparent long sleeved blouse which nearly concealed the low cut bra underneath, which was struggling to contain her magnificent breasts, her blonde hair hanging down past her shoulders. She had said she was thirty three but she looked much younger.
"Aren't you coming in?" she asked nervously.
"I'm sorry. You've just taken my breath away. If you don't mind me saying so Sandy….you're beautiful!"
Her smile lit up her face. "Well with compliments like that sir, you had better come in straight away."
She led me through to the lounge. I walked behind her, watching the sway of her hips. It wasn't accentuated, just a natural swing that was very sensual.
She spoke over her shoulder as she walked. "What star sign are you?"
"Sagittarius. Why?"
"I just like to know if we're compatible."
"And are we?" I asked.
"Yes. I'm a Scorpio." She turned and smiled, "I've got quite a sting in my tail."
There was a nearly empty wine glass on the coffee table and she glanced at it then turned to me. "I am. Sorry. I should say was, very nervous hence the glass of wine. Well, second one actually. But already I feel more relaxed, comfortable. Thank you."
"I haven't done anything," I said.
