Note: If any of the categories on literotica bother you, my apologies, because this story has nearly every one in it!
I suppose I should've seen it coming, being a trained psychologist. But I guess it's like the painter's house that always needs painting, or the roofer who has a roof caving in. In my case, it was the wife who didn't come home. After 25 years of marriage, one day she just disappeared. She was gone without word for two days before her sister called to tell me not to worry. She was ok, in a safe place, and she needed some time to sort some things out. Something about finding herself, or something.
Naturally, I spent some time trying to evaluate that information. I thought we were ok, she seemed pretty happy. We had never had kids, we were financially stable. On the negative side, our sex life had fallen off some, but it had never been a big part of our relationship. She had never really been into it, and at some point over the past 10 years, I had made the decision that the occasional missionary position romp wasn't much worth the effort. Which was ok, we just had a comfortable, passionless partnership.
I waited for about a month for her to come home, but being alone in the house we had shared for 25 years was getting to be a drag. So I closed up the house, leaving everything in place. I figured one day she'd come back, and we could just pick up where we left off. I had a hard time imagining the complications of starting over. My life was simple, I had never even been with another woman, so the idea of not being in that comfort zone was pretty intimidating. I figured she was the same and would eventually come back to our comfortable life.
In the meantime, I took up residence across town at an apartment complex. I got all new furniture, even got new clothes, figured a fresh start would do me good. The apartment was about a fourth of the size of my house, but I didn't need much space, and I was counting on it being temporary.
My life became simple, quiet and painfully lonely. Some days I couldn't decide what was worse - going to work and listen to people whine about their problems all day, or go home and sit in a dark room by myself. I could feel myself spiraling down into darkness and despair. If I'm being honest, I was on the fast track to offing myself.
Then one day, out of the blue, there was a knock on my door. It was early in the morning and I did not expect anyone, and no one ever visited. So when I opened the door and there was a beautiful young blonde standing there, my first thought was that I was dreaming.
"Hello, my name is Alana, I live a few doors down," she said. "My car won't start, I think it's the battery. I have some batteries, but I'm not sure what size I need."
She held out her hand, and showed me a handful of assorted batteries. Not car batteries, mind you, but the C and D size batteries that go into small appliances. My first thought was that maybe I was on a candid camera show, but I realized that this girl was just not that sharp.
"Uh, those batteries aren't going to work," I said. "How about if I jump you?"
She stepped back from the door with a look of horror and confusion on her face.
"I mean jump your car, with jumper cables," I added quickly.
Her expression changed and she nodded. I got the jumper cables out of my trunk, hooked up the batteries and got her car started in no time. I was closing her hood when she came over to thank me, giving me a quick hug.
"Thanks so much, I hate to jump and run but I'm late for class," she said. "Thanks so much though!"
I waved goodbye and went back to my lonely enclave, figuring I would never see Alana again. But later that afternoon, I heard another knock on the door, and there she was, smiling and holding what appeared to be a pie.
"Hi, I'm Alana again," she stammered nervously. "I just wanted to bring you something to thank you again for helping me out this morning. It's chocolate pie."
"I see, it looks delicious," I said. Actually, it looked like someone had put chocolate pudding into a pie crust and then sprayed some whipped cream on it and then dropped it on the floor and did a poor job of mashing it all back together, but I wanted to be nice. Also in an effort to be nice, I invited her inside, and unexpectedly, she accepted.
In fact, she stayed quite a while, and talked up a storm. Alana was a senior at the local college, lived just a few doors down, did modeling work on the side, loved puppies and had finished in the top ten of the latest Miss America pageant as a representative of the great state of Alabama, as she described it. She may have won the whole thing but the question and answer round didn't go well for her.
"I love Alabama, but its nice to be out of the south," she said.
I didn't really have the heart to tell her that North Carolina was not exactly out of the south, so I just let that go.
We talked about everything from the weather to politics, and eventually she asked some questions about me, so I had to tell her my sad story about being separated. As I told the story I realized that she actually teared up with empathy. She wasn't too smart, but she made up for it by being a real sweetheart.
"So what do you do for work?" she asked.
"I'm a psychologist, I help people with their problems," I replied.
"Ah, psychologist, so you can't subscribe drugs then," she said. She sounded sympathetic.
"Well, actually no I can't PRESCRIBE drugs," I said. "Only psychiatrists can do that. But I can prescribe sunshine, and that's even better."
She stared at me blankly for a minute before realizing I was joking, and she smiled warmly. "Well, I enjoyed the visit, and I hope I will see you again," she said.
"Me too," I replied, and I actually meant it. There aren't many men pushing 50 who wouldn't be more than delighted to spend time with a beauty queen.
I walked her to the door, and just as she was leaving she stopped and turned back. "Say, how would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night," she said.
I was momentarily stunned, but I was able to collect myself enough to accept the invitation. She gave me her apartment number and told me to show up at 7 pm sharp.
After she was gone I spent the next hour or so pinching myself to make sure I was awake. Then I spent an hour having an idle fantasy about having sex with Miss Alabama on a dinner table filled with chocolate pie. Then I spent an hour scolding myself for imagining that she would ever be interested in a man twice her age. Then I spent another hour having more idle fantasies about just that. By that time it was time to go to bed, so I went to bed and spent the next 8 hours mostly staring at the ceiling.
