My name is Helen Cox. I'm sixty-two years old, widowed seven years and living in a continuous care retirement community in a small, independent living, cottage. My husband, Herb, became dysfunctional as he aged. I made due as best I could and he died happy.
I think I'm reasonably attractive and still have something to offer. I've gained a few pounds over the years and my breasts have enlarged proportionally. I take care of my body as best I can and I still think the package is worth unwrapping. Unfortunately, life in a retirement community doesn't offer much in the way of unattached unwrappers. The ratio of men to women is somewhere between seven or ten to one and those men that are single are unable to muster the strength or dexterity to undo the knot and the rest are closely guarded by their respective significant others or claimers.
However, I do have a story to tell. Bear with me. This is my first attempt in relating my experience and I'm working on reconstructing more than just my physical responses.
One of the other ladies, I wouldn't call her a real friend or confident, suggested that after seven years, I was equivalent to a virgin and that I should advertise. Maybe throw myself a re-virgin party, similar to a proprietor having a grand re-opening after a store refurbishment. I thought her suggestion was disrespectful and improper but, unimaginatively, I found myself considering it.
At least until I looked up one evening at dinner in the common dining room and saw him. I immediately changed my thinking from celebrating virginity to preventing it.
He was sitting at a table across the room with three other gentlemen, all-older than he was. I had never seen him before and I immediately concluded that he was a new resident. I put the idea of a party on hold and set out to meet him and hopefully more. Timing was important. I wasn't the only single female on the lookout for an unattached man. The competition could get sticky.
As dinner broke up and people began to leave their tables, I lingered until I saw him readying to leave. I got up quickly and maneuvered behind him as he started down the hall leading to the community center exit. Walking closely behind him, I opened my purse and then dropped it. I hesitated just long enough for him to turn around to see what the noise was about and accidentally bumped into him as I bent to pick up my purse and the things that had spilled out of it. I led with my right breast and it contacted his left arm just above the elbow.
He knelt alongside me and helped recover my things. He handed me my reading glasses, wallet and car keys and watched as I put them back in my purse. He took my elbow and helped me to my feet, all the while effusely apologizing for the inappropriate body contact when he turned around.
I eased his concern with the appropriate appreciation and confessed that my breasts were always getting in the way of something and his arm was just the latest in a long list. The reference to my breasts caused him to glance down at them to verify my assessment. His gander dwelled on my breasts just long enough for me to confirm that the bait, and hook, were in the water.
We stood in the hallway for several minutes making small talk. I learned that his name was Sean and he had just moved into an independent living cottage that morning. With the other residents trying to avoid us in the hall, I suggested we have an after dinner drink in the café and lounge just down the hall. He accepted and I did a mental fist pump.
Sean led me to a table on one side of the small lounge, held out a chair for me, asked me what I wanted to drink and left to get the drinks from the counter. I admired the gentle nature of his demeanor as I watched him walk away. Real gentlemen are a rare breed today and he measured up in every way. I was impressed and determined not to let him escape untouched.
Sean returned with a snifter of Madeira for me and a beer for him. As he sat across from me at the table, I thought the beer took some of the polish off his gentleman status but not much. His refusal to allow me to pay for my drink restored some luster. He was certainly an old school gentleman.
We began to exchange personal information and after an hour and two drinks, he knew about my thirty-one year marriage and seven-year celibacy. Sean shared his experience with monogamy at an early age and his foreswearing of a repeat performance. He was fifty-nine, divorced for thirty years and chose moving to an independent living environment as the best living arrangement with all the included services he could find.
The time we spent together was delightful. We discovered that his cottage was immediately next to mine and we walked home together. On the way, he asked if I would go to dinner with him on Saturday.
"Are you asking me for a date?" I asked.
"I guess I am," he responded. "So, what do you say?"
"I think I would like that very much," I answered.
"Somewhere not here, but not too far away," he suggested.
"Pick the place. I'll be ready."
"Deal. Seven pm okay?"
"Deal."
That's how one of the slowest losses of virginity in modern history began.
Sean was indeed the ultimate gentleman. No door was too difficult or inconvenient for him to open for me. No step was too low or high for him to offer his arm for support. No bill was too large for him to pay in full, refusing all attempts by me to share the cost. He always had small gifts for me each time we met. Flowers, candy and mementoes of our time together accumulated. But I knew nothing of that on our first dinner together. At the time, if he had asked me to fuck his brains out instead of going to dinner, I would have been just as enthusiastic and accommodating. Fucking would have to wait until the gentleman was confident enough to bare all. I was always ready.
That first dinner date was perfect, if frustrating. Sean took me to a French fusion restaurant I'd never heard of. It served classic French cuisine blended with Vietnamese dishes. Each course was a work of art and I was reluctant to destroy the beauty of the food in order to eat it. The sommelier offered perfectly paired wine with each course, including, incongruently, one from California. Sean never told me how much it cost and I never asked.
The drive back was quiet as we each enjoyed the after effects of a great meal and thought about what came next. It was too soon in our relationship for me to understand that my hopes and expectations were significantly different from his. Sean parked in his carport and walked me to my door. He held my hand in both of his hands and, before letting go, asked if I would like to go to a movie Friday night after dinner. When I agreed, he released my hand, gave me a huge smile and walked across the lawn to his bungalow.
Not even a quick kiss on the cheek. I can't say I was disappointed. I was beginning to understand the strict gentleman code Sean lived by, but I was frustrated. That night, for the first time in several years, I fell asleep with an adult toy in one hand, a tube of lubricant on the floor and a puddle of my own creation on the bed sheet.
The movie Sean chose on Friday was a perfect blend of romance and action. About twenty minutes into the movie, he reached out and took my hand. He held it for the rest of the show. I moved our hands to rest on my thigh, hoping but not expectant. He did squeeze my hand several times during some of the more amorous scenes but that was all. At my door, he held my hand as before, and thanked me for another delightful evening. When he started to leave, I took a chance, and instead of letting go, I held on, pulled him toward me and gave him a quick, gentle kiss on the cheek. His smile broadened, his eyes brightened and lit up the whole neighborhood. I watched as he almost danced across the lawn to his cottage.
His presence was having an effect on me and I searched for my dresser drawer toys again before going to bed.
Our second movie date was more of the same, a perfectly chosen movie on a Friday night. I was determined to move the relationship in a slightly different direction, if not emotionally, then physically. I tried the armrest between our seats and discovered it could be lifted up, removing the barrier between us. I pushed it up without comment from Sean and moved closer to him, pinning his arm uncomfortably between our bodies. He moved it from between us and around my shoulders. So far so good.
