A week in New York. If you don't travel much it might seem like an appealing prospect. If it's part of your normal life, you know that you can be lonely anywhere. So when I heard I was going to be going there, I checked round my favourite international dating website to arrange some company. Soon I came across Louise, a nice looking, intelligent woman. Not a 'girl' -- I'm 55 and I need a mature woman. Let the masses fantasise about young, lithe females, but they're not for me. I'm not young or lithe anymore. But I'm still an admirer of an attractive woman, and Louise fitted the bill perfectly. She was black -- I'm standard Caucasian and black is my favourite female colour -- and a little overweight, as I am. Young, immaculate people might not understand, but when you're imperfect, you want someone who has the odd flaw too. You don't see it as a flaw exactly, but it gets you off the hook of perfection and allows you to be yourself. Louise was perfect in her imperfection -- gorgeously kissable, adorable, anythingable.
She lived in the Bronx, not that that meant anything to me apart from what I had read and heard. I was staying near Times Square and we arranged that she would meet me near there. We had hit it off really well by email -- in fact very early on I felt a real connection with her, even via the limited scope of that form of communication - and I just hoped that we would be as comfortable together in real life.
When the day came -- a Sunday - I wasn't nervous exactly -- after all, what could happen to me that I didn't want? I was excited.
We met at a café in a park -- a neutral, public venue like you're supposed to -- and she looked just like her photos: a bandana on her head, a simple patterned dress and a slightly severe look which was softer and deeper if you studied it. I took it to be just her natural expression, and as a renowned non-smiler myself, I understood that a facial expression didn't necessarily tell all.
I could have undressed her there and then and eaten her whole, starting in the middle, but I was polite and we gradually eased into a real relationship. I asked her how long she could stay and she said she would have to be on the subway by 9. It was 1pm.
With a full-time job and three kids to look after, her free time couldn't be taken for granted, but I hoped if things went well we might be able to meet several times
We went for a walk and as we did, her right breast brushed against my arm repeatedly -- it just seemed to be there all the time, just the way we were built. Eventually we found ourselves in a kind of wood, with no-one around, so I put my arms around her and kissed her. She responded with her tongue, gently, and our bodies grew closer, but in a respectful way. I ran my hand down her spine, stroked her back and made a discreet sweep of her buttocks before settling on her thigh. Then a jogger came around the corner and we started walking again.
I was aroused -- very aroused. I loved the feel of her body and the smell of her skin. I loved her delicate, darting tongue.
We went for coffee, then walked some more, and talked and talked. At around six o'clock we decided to have dinner and found a little Italian place. After a couple of glasses of wine we were holding hands over the table and my knee was magnetised to hers. All the time I was aware that the clock was ticking, and I was determined to get this woman into bed. She read my mind.
'Don't worry about the time,' she said. 'I can come again tomorrow night... if you want me to.'
I picked her hand up, drew it close to my mouth and kissed it, then ran my tongue discreetly between her fingers. She kind of shivered and smiled. 'You do want me to.'