Literotica edition © 2013 Guy Bailey
Rosalinda dragged her fingers down her face as she peered closely into the mirror. She pulled the loose skin taut, stretching the wrinkles and remembering how she looked when she was younger. Age was a constant battle. It had crept up on her lately. She looked all of eighty years old. Her hair was thin and silver in colour. Her cheeks, and even her ears, were droopy. She smiled and noticed how her teeth were somewhere between brown and grey. When had that happened? There was a whiskery mole on her chin that had been there for some time. She shook her head. Pft... silly old hag.
Rosalinda looked closer at her reflection. She had a redeeming feature. Her beautiful blue eyes never aged. She had been looking into those exact same depths of wisdom for well over two hundred years. She had seen off countless Presidents, Kings, Queens and Tsars. She had watched the world evolve from the belief it was flat through to exploring it with Google Earth on the computer.
She put her spectacles on and lifted her nose to see through them. The You Tube clip she had found earlier was still there, paused on screen. She placed her frail, shaky hand on the mouse and clicked Play, giggling to herself as the film rolled with a young reporter trying to poke his tape recorder into the face of some famous movie star, whose name escaped Rosalinda at that moment. The young reporter was pushed aside and trampled by the other dozen reporters trying to get sound bites for the vision of their news report. The camera turned upon the hapless fellow under everyone's feet, and he became the focus of the news clip. His glasses were askew on his face. His shirt was smeared with mud from the gutter he was lying in. A female reported trod on his stomach with her pointy heel and he let out a wail that had the whole group laughing at him.
Rosalinda paused the clip again, and she wrote down the young reporter's name on her notepad by the phone.
She strolled outside still chuckling at thought of the funny film clip. It was a sunny, late spring morning with the smell of summer in the thin country air. She sprinkled some feed for her chickens and checked her vegetable patch for signs of any damage from a particular rabbit she was doing battle with lately. Her crow Samson swooped down from the tree above the cottage, his massive wings swishing as he pulled up to land on a splintered old fence post. Samson had been with Rosalinda for close to a hundred years, since she had found him squawking sadly over a broken wing.
She watered her plants for a while then plucked at a few weeds. Standing from a bent position was difficult. Age had infiltrated her spine and the pain shot down through her swollen legs to where her feet were puffing out of her soft-soled leather moccasins. What are you smiling at, Sam? He was watching on with his sleek black head cocked to one side and his beak open. He let out a soft cry.
Rosalinda waved him away and returned to her veranda, intending to rest in her rocking chair and read the romance novel she had started the previous afternoon. She saw the legs of her cat Winston protruding from beneath her small cane table. The animal was obviously dead.
Rosalinda sighed. She collected her old friend and held him close to her chest, cradling him there and placing her gnarled old hand over the cat's eyes. She closed her own eyes and transferred the required amount of life force. Winston squirmed to an upright position. He had never been fond of being cradled on his back. Damn cat. How many lives is that? Rosalinda muttered, though she felt weak and had to sit down.
Winston was as black as Samson. The grey around his yellow eyes had vanished with his rejuvenated youth. It had actually been longer than twelve years since the last time Rosalinda had been required to bring him back to life. She had long since lost count of the number of times she had done it. Winston was older than Samson by at least half a century.
For a witch of Rosalinda's experience and wisdom, reviving a pet was hardly difficult. It did however sap her strength and cause her to age a little faster for a while. She rocked her chair and stroked her loving cat. Her old eyes closed and she gave in to the hum of bees and the gentle caress of the warm morning breeze.
***
Lester Wentworth always woke up in the morning with an erection. It was persistent too. At twenty-three he was still a virgin, and he figured that was the problem. He really needed a girlfriend.
"Lester!" his mother called from her upstairs bedroom.
"Yes, Mum. I'm coming!"
He had been up long enough to make his mother's porridge, and his erection was still tenting his dressing gown. Although, he had been thinking about Emily from work while stirring the porridge, which hadn't helped. He deliberately focused his mind on what he needed to buy at the grocery store on the way home that evening, and that worked. By the time he had jotted down a short shopping list his condition had subsided and he was able to take his mother her porridge.
Lester's mother had been ill for the past month, so he was taking care of her. She wasn't quite bed ridden, but he brought her breakfast in bed and cleaned up the kitchen afterwards, which allowed her to rest until her soap operas were on television. It was just the two of them. Lester's father had disappeared a few years ago, and remarried.
"Bye, Mum. See you tonight," Lester said, poking his head through the doorway. "Call me if you think of anything else we need from the market before Aunty Charlene gets here."
Lester's Aunty Charlene was due to arrive that night to stay for a week, which would give Lester a break. On his way to work on the bus, he thought of what he might be able to do with a free evening or two. He had been trying to work up the courage to ask Emily out sometime. Emily was the front counter receptionist at the news office where he worked as a junior reporter. She was a pretty blond girl of nineteen with a great smile. Lester had been thinking about her a lot.
"Hi, Emily!" She was at the reception counter as he walked in. She looked up at him without moving her head, just sort of rolling her eyes as she manufactured a grin.
Lester detected her disinterest but wanted to at least ask if she would go out with him. She was typing. He took a breath and was about to blurt his rehearsed 'So, Emily, I was wondering if...' line, when her eyes suddenly lit up and her smile flashed. A smack on the back of his head followed, and Carl Griffin appeared beside him, slapping a heavy hand upon his shoulder.
"Saw you on You Tube, Jester... way to get the interview, boy!" He was laughing. Emily joined him.
Emily always lit up when Carl was around. So did Julie. She was the other girl who worked in the office, a pretty redhead who Lester used to think about a lot, until Emily replaced the girl who used to work reception. Lester had had a thing for that girl too. He liked all the girls he had worked with so far. There was also a fellow reporter named Maddy, some years Lester's elder, who he liked being assigned with.
Maddy came from her office and joined in with Julie, Emily and Carl as they got You Tube up on Emily's computer. Lester laughed along with them, pretending that he was being laughed with rather than at.
Maddy returned to her office, and Carl to his. Lester's work station was in the reception area. Julie was the executive assistant to the editor Mr. Rankin, and she had a small partitioned area of her own. Lester switched on his computer and checked around to be sure everyone was busy. He then approached Emily again.
"Um... Emily, I was wondering if you might like to go see The Wanderers with me on Saturday night? I've got good tickets."
