This story is a work of fiction. Some real institutions are mentioned, but they are used fictitiously. Insofar as the author knows, no real person affiliated with those institutions has ever behaved as described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
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I suppose I had led a "charmed" life. No serious illnesses or injuries. No loved ones passing unexpectedly. Never laid off my job. That all changed when my wife of almost 30 years told me she wanted a divorce. I had not seen that coming at all. Maybe that was part of the problem.
Karen had done quite well for herself as a biomedical engineer and didn't ask for alimony. Our daughter was grown up and working in Silicon Valley so there were no issues about child support or custody. I agreed to let Karen have our house in Evanston.
The Chicago area was my adopted home. I had come there for college at age 18 and never left. Except for my first couple years in undergrad, I had spent all that time either dating or married to Karen. There was no place I could go in Chicagoland that didn't bring up memories of her. I was doing very well as "Senior Economist" for a large LaSalle Street bank, but, after the divorce, I needed a complete change.
I found a job as "Director of Asset Management" at the "University Foundation," the nominally independent, non-profit fundraising arm for a smaller but well-regarded state university about five-hours' drive from Chicago. From the big city, I moved to a small college town in the lower Midwest. My primary job was to make the Foundation's endowment earn money. I also advised the Executive Director and the Foundation Board on how the Foundation should spend that money. The salary was a lot less than I'd been making, but my cost of living was a lot less too.
The Foundation ran a lean operation from a one story building not far from the University's athletic complex. Apart from the Executive Director, a former pharmaceutical company CEO, there were two other management level people: me and the "Director of Development," the Foundation's chief fundraiser.
The Development Director, Joanna Lowe, was a University alum. Joanna was about four years younger than me, meaning she was in her mid-fifties. She looked no older than late thirties. Joanna had shoulder length blonde hair. If you looked closely, you could see a grey hair or two. She had bright blue eyes, prominent cheekbones, a small "pert" nose, rather thick sensual lips, and a strong chin. Although Joanna dressed professionally, her clothes highlighted her long legs, flat belly, full chest, and nicely rounded ass. Even if she had her hand out for money, Joanna Lowe was someone you'd enjoy being around.
Joanna had come to the Foundation three years before I did after a career in marketing, first with a worldwide consumer products company and later with a New York and London based consulting firm. As you'd expect from someone in marketing, Joanna was extremely outgoing. However, she never came across like she was trying to sell you something. She was a good listener and adept at getting people to talk candidly; even relatively introverted people like me. She was also very smart and articulate.
I suppose it was natural that Joanna and I became friends. Apart from the Executive Director, the rest of the Foundation staff was, at least, twenty years younger than either of us. Many of the big dollar donors wanted specific explanations of how the Foundation used their gifts. That meant I occasionally travelled with Joanna to give those explanations while Joanna asked for more.
Of course, Joanna and I talked a great deal. She induced me to tell her a lot more about myself than I'd intended a lot sooner than I'd intended. In fairness, Joanna was, I thought, reasonably open about herself. I learned that Joanna had been married, once, for over twenty years. She was living in Connecticut and working for the consulting firm when her husband, Fred, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He passed a few months after the diagnosis. Ironically, Fred was a very highly regarded neurosurgeon.
Like me, Joanna decided she needed a major change once she involuntarily became single again. Between what she had earned and what Fred left her, Joanna could have retired to an island in the Caribbean. "I need to have goals and to interact with people, not just people I know but also new people," Joanna explained. "I really enjoyed my time here in college," she elaborated. "When I saw the Foundation was looking for a chief fundraiser, that seemed perfect." Joanna laughed. "I started my adulthood here. I guess I wanted to start my second adulthood here too."
I had started with the Foundation in June. Of course, I knew no one in the small college town when I arrived. Joanna made it her project to introduce me to people. Given her personality, I was not surprised that Joanna had developed a large network of friends. She was taking me to picnics, dinner parties, and sports events. These weren't dates. Joanna and I would arrive and depart separately. I was surprised and intrigued, though, that Joanna never came with anyone.
Some of our trips together to meet with current and potential donors were overnights. That usually meant dinner with donors, and Joanna would focus completely on them. Occasionally, though, we'd have a night on our own. Those nights, we'd have dinner together. Over several months, our relationship started to change. Not long before Christmas, we had two days of meetings with donors in Chicago. We stayed in a hotel on the River and walked to a restaurant I knew a block off North Michigan. After dinner, we walked Michigan Avenue looking at the lights. After two blocks, Joanna took my hand. Our first kiss was in front of the old water tower.
I had already committed to spend that Christmas with my daughter and her live-in boyfriend in Palo Alto. Joanna spent the holiday with her son in Northern Virginia. Before we left town, I summoned the courage to ask Joanna to "go away with me" for a weekend in January. When I explained what I had in mind, she laughed and agreed.
About 20 miles east of our college town was a village that had been developed as a moderately upscale tourist destination. There were two or three good restaurants, several antique and craft shops, and, in the summer, a professional reparatory theater. Immediately adjacent was a huge state park covering hundreds of acres of hills and valleys, with a national forest extending beyond that. My online research disclosed that the state park had a new lodge, with indoor pools and saunas, that stayed open year-round. As I'd expected, it was easily to get reservations for a Friday and Saturday in late January. I had mentally debated whether to book two rooms or one. When I saw the winter price and availability, I compromised with a two-bedroom suite.
It had snowed hard the night before our weekend together and more weather was forecast. Prudence probably dictated cancelling, but I didn't want to give up a weekend with Joanna. Apparently, she felt the same way.
There were almost no cars in the lot when we pulled into the lodge late Friday afternoon. The young man who checked us in said, "you may have the lodge to yourselves. We weren't very full to start with and everyone's cancelling because of the storm."
We took a quick look around. The lodge had a restaurant off the lobby. Further on was a glass-enclosed room that housed the pool, two Jacuzzis, and a sauna. This part of the building seemed to extend out from the rest. Looking up and back in the direction of the front desk, I could see the outside balconies of rooms through the transparent roof.
Joanna and I were discussing where to have dinner as we rode the elevator to the third, and top, floor for our suite. The centerpiece of the suite was a large living room with a woodburning fireplace, with a stack of cut wood, and a floor-to-ceiling picture window looking out over a snow-covered valley. The sound of freezing rain or sleet hitting the picture window told us we wouldn't be going out for dinner. Just after we walked in the suite, the front desk called to say that the restaurant was closing due to the weather. If we wanted dinner, we needed to come down right now.
Because they were closing, the restaurant manager said they could only give us burgers and fries. The burgers were surprisingly good, accompanied by a good bottle of wine. As compensation for the rushed meal and truncated menu, the manager gave us another bottle to take back to the room. That wasn't a huge gift. The restaurant sold this wine for $30 a bottle. I knew it retailed for $ 16 at a liquor store near the University.
Back in the room, Joanna said, "it's still fairly early. We're not going out. Let's try the pool."
"Sure," I said.
Joanna went to her suitcase, opened it, pulled something out, and walked to one of the bedroom doors. She smiled and said, "I want to maintain a little mystery." She went into the bedroom and closed the door.
I pulled a pair of swim trunks from my bag and changed in the living room. I wasn't worried by the picture window. There was no one outside that night. I pulled a couple of towels from the bathroom and found two terrycloth robes in a closet. I had those and my keycard in hand when Joanna came out of the bedroom.
All I could say was "wow!" Joanna had put on a red bikini. It wasn't extremely revealing but made obvious that Joanna's figure was much better even than I had expected. Her breasts were largeish, with a very slight sag that suggested the absence of any silicone. Her abs were flat. Her long legs were firm but not overly muscular. The spin she did for me revealed an ass which, in the tight red fabric, looked good enough to eat.
Smiling, Joanna asked, "a drink before we go?" In addition to the full bottle, the restaurant had let us take the open bottle we'd had with dinner. I poured two glasses.
I couldn't stop looking at Joanna as we drank. What I had not realized was that, although Joanna dressed to advantage, her clothes concealed her true beauty. I was still thinking about that when Joanna said, "Peter, this is the first time I've seen you without a shirt. You lift, don't you?"
I nodded. "Probably not the best hobby for a sixty-year-old," I replied.
Joanna finished her wine, put her glass on a table, and stepped to me. We were almost touching. "You don't look 60," she said. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "Let's go."
I followed Joanna out of the room. She carried her robe over her arm. Walking behind her, watching her ass under the thin red fabric, made me want her very much. There was no one in the lobby and the restaurant had already closed. Thankfully, the door to the pool wasn't locked. Despite the warmth of the room, the glass roof and walls were coated in ice. I had the sense of being in a warm cocoon.
We swam for a little while. Then, Joanna got out of the pool and said, "I'm ready for the jacuzzi."
I got out of the pool and headed for the switches built into a wall. There were two jacuzzis built into the concrete floor. "Large one or small one?" I asked.
