Hugh O'Neill (36), sat alone in the office café mulling over lunch.
The rugged-faced divorcee, wondered was it worth carrying on trying to pull in a babe. At his age, with more than a suspicion of thinning hair and signs of a developing jowl, a guy cast adrift faced the prospects of having to pay for sex.
Again, was it really worth trying for sex for the first time after his divorce?
He was close to tossing into the too hard basket his quest for a good-looking nubile female who valued romps in bed as essential as checking her weight on the scales regularly.
Yeah, such females existed in big numbers. But where were they... in the arms of other females or locked in the embrace of guys 30 years old or younger?
Hugh cut off a slice of a poached egg and as it was sucked into his mouth, he though how similar poached egg was to the succulent and soft firmness of the flesh of a woman's upper thighs.
His penis began to inflate and he moaned at the psychological indignity of sporting a full erection in the public place filled largely with middle-aged midday eaters.
"Hi Hugh."
A female carrying her salad slid into the chair across from him.
She was Ann Birtwhistle, personal assistant to the CEO. Any woman would think her outstanding feature was her brain, whereas Hugh considered it was the 40-year-old's tits and believed most guys between the age of 12 and 92 would agree with him.
"Are you staring at my breasts?"
Hugh's erection collapsed. He could be called before the company's disciplinary committee unless he managed to grab a convincing response.
"Ann, I was admiring your dress and wondered if the textile was linen."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"Hugh, men don't ordinarily discuss female clothing and wouldn't have a clue what the words textile or fabric mean in detail. Are you... you know?"
Horrified that Ann was thinking he might be gay, he blurted, "Ann, my ex-wife was addicted to sex and most nights left me legless. While we rested, she rabbited on about many things including womenswear, fashion and fabrics. I was being educated without being aware of it."
She nodded vaguely with no indication of what that meant. A diversion might work.
Hugh chose to pounce with a mind-bender.
"Ann, have you ever had an affair?"
A piece of food dropped off her fork and the fork clattered on to her plate. She looked around quickly and, voice sounding a little husky, whispered, "For goodness sake Hugh, when asking me something like that, keep your voice down. Are you propositioning me?"
His throat tightened and he thought why not. She was reasonably attractive and two beauties nestled under her bra. She might be one of those reputedly numerous women around her age that complained to their girlfriends they never got it enough.
"Yes," he whispered bravely.
"Saturday night at your place, dinner included? My husband will be away this weekend on a trip to a distant casino with pals."
"Great," Hugh smiled, amazed that it could be so easy. Obviously, he'd been wasting his time focused on attempting to date younger women whereas hordes of older women were really hanging out for it, or possibly so.
Ann momentarily touched a breast, presumably for his benefit, and lowered that hand to retrieve that fork. She smiled at him and winked.
Hugh was ready to paw the ground and roar like a stag ready to rut.
"I'll give you a great time."
"Oh," Ann said. "In that case I'll stay the night. Our two kids are both staying with friends - isn't all this such a perfect coincidence. It's magical."
"Magical?"
"Yes Hugh, it's looking that way. I've longed for years to have the opportunity to fuck in sin but no one has asked apart from my greasy brother-in-law who fled howling when I bashed him over the head with the breadboard. The skunk has had sex with half of the adult females on their street, according to my sister, who is rather permissive herself."
"Then you don't usually... um, you know."
