"Happy birthday dear Catherine! Happy birthday ttttoooooo yyyyyyyyooooouuuuuuu!!"
But I'm not happy. My mouth is smiling, but my eyes don't shine like somebody who feels happiness. It's my 40th birthday, and my work friends have come to my house to celebrate. But it feels so empty, so pointless.
I'm 40, and alone. I'm single, no child, no husband, noone who gazes upon me and thinks in their heart that I'm theirs. I have these friends, but they're doing it I sense out of obligation. I notice how they carefully avoid talking about their kids, their marriages, their family vacation plans. They're good people, I'm grateful they've brought food and wine, but they tell I'm unhappy and they cannot truly help me.
So soon enough I say goodbye. I blow the candles, have one slice of my birthday cake, talk about our company's quarterly results, then bid them goodbye. Seeing those people, most of whom are successful in love, focusing on me - it hurts. I don't want too much of it. Before my smiles get obviously false, I make an excuse of having drunk too much wine and we agree to all go to bed.
I go upstairs, look at my window, and across the street is another birthday. It's Robert, his 18th. I watch his friends in his garden, some of them drinking for the first time, many young men and young women inside his house. That was me once. I assumed I'd have my time of fun, meet a husband-worthy man, and be settled. But now I'm ageing alone, where did I fail?
Robert is a good young man. Bright, he goes to medical school next month. His life ahead of him, so much potential. And handsome too, in that boyishly innocent way. He's a man now in age, but I can't believe he's a man in every sense.
His parents have agreed to go on a vacation themselves for his birthday weekend. They bought him a Harley, which is proudly gleaming on the front yard. He's going to have one of those girls holding his waist and riding together throughout the county.
If it was me, I'd hold him the tightest. I used to be a biker girl when I was younger too. I could show him how to ride up dirt tracks, reach the peaks, and lie watching the town before it's my turn to ride - ride you Robert back into bed.
What? What am I thinking? He's 20 years younger than you Catherine. Yes but men my age aren't interested. They of course go for younger, they themselves cheat on their wives with young things. Robert and I would not be cheating.
I take my party dress off and lie in bed. It's a warm day outside, and I feel like I'm almost burning up. I know why, it's two weeks since my last period. During ovulation I get warm, and I never sleep unless the man I'm dreaming of is with me.
Robert, you're going to be my real birthday gift. How many more cycles do I have when I'm still fertile? If it's not now, the baby I've always wished for may never come. You're not drying up Catherine; you're going to be full of milk, you'll shine with the glow that only a woman heavy with child can radiate.
I get no sleep this night. How to get Robert, how to seduce him, how to bring him inside me? I'm going to try the motorbike first. I wait until 3am, when the party has stopped and all are sleeping inside. I go to his yard, watching carefully so I'm not seen.
My plan is to replace the fuse with a lower amp one, that will blow as soon as he switches it on. The Harley will then fail to start, reporting an electrical fault, and I'll be there to show how to fix this particular issue.
It's a quick job, and I'm not noticed. Back home to get some rest. Back in bed my clit throbs at the thought of Robert. If only it wasn't my fingers just lower, but that young man about to fertilize me.
9am I get up. The Harley seems untouched, everyone must have a lack of alcohol tolerance. I watch from my window while I get ready. I need to be in my finest red dress, my highest heels, my hair and makeup as perfect as I can make them alone. This decides me. Am I still a beautiful, desirable woman - or am I the past?
At 11am I see the door open. If this is it I'll need to be there now. I walk outside, and yes Robert along with some young blonde is trying to start the Harley. I walk along the street, and when I get to theirs I ask, in my most innocent voice:
"Something wrong with your bike?"
"Yes. I don't know why, it won't start."
"Any status lights?"
"A couple I think."
"Mind if I have a look? I used to own one of these."
I of course immediately realize what's wrong.
"Electrical fault. Looks like a blown fuse. Can happen, especially when it gets too hot."
The girl joins in: "easy to fix?"
"Yes actually. I have a fuse box in my garage. If you just wait here I can get one."
"Thank you so much."
"No problem at all."
I walk straight to my garage, hoping he'll notice me. No looking back, don't be too obvious yet, just show you're someone useful. Of course I go to my garage and bring back the original.
"Found one, you'll be riding soon," I say as I bend down. My body isn't quite Megan Fox in Transformers, but I have mechanical skills, why not use them?
"Where are you planning on riding?"
"Not far, just round the blocks, get used to it".
"One day I'll have to show you the peaks. The best track up is not so obvious."
"Sure, I-"
"We're just going to ride round here," the girl interrupts. I stand tall and briefly glare at her.
"Try and start it up now" I say as I bite my bottom lip at Robert. "Yes this girl's young," I wish I could tell him. "I know my forehead has started to wrinkle, I know my middle aged figure is curvier than hers. But I know how to please a man, Robert. You'll enjoy me. Make me your first time and every lady after you'll compare to me."
The engine starts.
"It's working, thank you so much."
"Enjoy your ride. One day we'll conquer those peaks," I say as I wink at him. I know the girl is jealous of me, with a look she communicates what we both know - one of us shall get Robert, she has won for now but I'm determined to take him as my own.
I wait for several hours. Am I obsessed? Is turning 40 turning me so crazy? I want him. I've never just wanted a man's flesh before. I usually waited until I felt in love, but then we would do it and he stopped caring, stopped chasing. If I have to accept love is not for me in this life, if I can't have commitment, I'll have primal sex. The genes of a man training as a doctor must be the best genes. Intelligent, compassionate, both caring and competent. Robert get in me now.
I see the bike return. It's just him, did he drop that young blonde off? Hopefully my mechanical abilities incited in her enough jealousy for them to argue. If those two are cold it's time for me to warm the boy up.