Edited by blackrandl1958
Chapter 1
Usually, I didn't hit the meat markets, but I was with a friend who wanted to go out to celebrate his divorce. It made me think back to mine. That was a petty, bitter situation that developed into a slugfest pretty quickly. She cheated, got caught, and didn't want to face the consequences. When her lawyer told her there was no way she could get the prenuptial agreement thrown out, she went into a rant of epic proportions. I still have a recording of it on an old phone that I purposely kept, and I would listen to it on the anniversary of the divorce, just to remind me I'd made the right decision.
There was no celebration for my divorce. A divorce was an admission of failure, of promises made and broken, and I didn't celebrate failures.
I noted there seemed to be a preponderance of "mature" women at the club, and it suddenly hit me that Rex was cougar hunting. Maybe he had Mommy issues. Maybe he was a bit of a perv. It didn't matter because there we were. He had just turned forty, and I was just past my forty-fourth birthday. Sometimes I felt like I was ninety. A pretty active lifestyle and a gym addiction kept me in excellent shape, but there were mornings when I creaked and popped when I got out of bed. My doctor once told me I might be 44, but condition-wise, I had the body of someone in his early thirties. In the mornings, my back said that wasn't necessarily true.
Well, it wasn't for me to judge, so I made the best of it. I danced a lot, and some of the women I danced with had to be in their sixties, but they damn near wore me out. One really hot one told me she was 67, then grinned. "I much prefer 69. There are things I could show you honey, things that would rock your world."
I had no doubt she was right, and while I was trying to come up with an exit strategy, Rex blundered up, grinning like mad and drunk on his ass. "Who's the hottie?"
Pretty soon they were cheek to cheek with his hand firmly latched onto her ass while she had her hand between them and you could see it moving. They disappeared 20 minutes later, and I didn't see him again until Monday.
Deciding I'd had enough fun for the night, I started towards the door. Then she walked in. Her flaming red hair went almost to her waist. Her skirt was seriously short, to the point a wardrobe malfunction would occur if she moved the wrong way. The white silk blouse was unbuttoned to the point that it was pretty evident there was no bra. Her face was round, with a cute nose and killer blue eyes.
The woman was exactly what I was looking for. IF I was looking for sex without strings. Sadly, she did nothing for me. The mercenary look on her face confirmed my opinion. She was looking across the club like it was a buffet, trying to find the perfect morsel. Her eyes went across me and then flicked back for a second look. I was pretty sure I was on the short list.
Now the woman who she was with was a completely different matter. She carried an air of understated elegance, the clothes, the accessories, the style of her platinum blond hair didn't scream money; it said she had it and it wasn't worth talking about. She was perfect, in the quietest of ways.
You could also tell this wasn't her natural habitat. She didn't look uncomfortable, she looked more...unimpressed. She sipped on one martini while her friend gulped down three drinks, in between dance partners. Several men, young men, asked her to dance, but she refused them with a haughty stare.
She intrigued me, so I walked over as a slow waltz was being played. "May I have this dance?"
She looked me over, judging, dismissing me with her eyes.
"I' m 51."
"Congratulations. Does your age preclude you from dancing?"
"Not if the guy is in his thirties!"
"Well then, perhaps we should find one here and warn him not to ask. I'm a lot closer to your age than you think, and I'm certainly well past my thirties. You have a pleasant evening, madame."
I was halfway across the hall when I felt her arm. "I'm sorry. It's pretty obvious I don't want to be here, but I am. I may as well have a dance with a handsome man and make the best of it. That is, if you'd still like to..."
She was light as a feather and a really good dancer. I commented on it and she smiled with a tinge of sadness. "My husband and I took lessons as a form of exercise. I enjoyed it, but not as much as he did, especially when he started doing the horizontal mambo with one of the instructors. The girl was 25 and got her claws into him. We divorced so he could marry her."
"That had to sting."
"Oh, it did. At first anyway. But on the other hand, we had a really successful business and didn't have a prenuptial, so I ended up owning half of it, plus our investments had grown nicely. She bled him dry in three years and I ended up buying half his share of the business just so he could pay her off. He's still the President, because when it comes to business he has a good head on his shoulders, but it galls him no end to have to answer to me. I bet if he could have a do-over, he'd have never signed up for those lessons."
By then we'd moved off the dance floor and had found a quiet corner. I grinned. "So then, you're hot, rich, own a business, why isn't there a second Mister Angela?"
She grimaced. "There's been one or two who applied for the position. Unfortunately, their qualifications didn't meet my standards. How about you?"
It was my turn to grimace. "She got a better offer from someone a lot like your ex. I don't think it's the ideal life she wanted, word has it he made her sign a pretty rigid prenuptial and watches her like a hawk. After what she did to me, he has to know under the right circumstances she'd not hesitate to do it to him."
"Is there a little hottie out there anywhere practicing writing "Mrs. Reggie"?"
"There was one two years ago. Let's just say our life goals were different and we didn't part on the best of terms."
"Love sucks."
"Personally, I think love is a grand thing, if you have the right person."
I raised my glass. "To love when you get it right."
She raised hers. "To knowing when it's right."
We talked for another hour. I was surprised time went by so quickly. I looked behind her and grinned. "I think your friend found the guys in their thirties."
Her smile evaporated as she watched her friend approach. She hesitated when she saw me, but kept grinning. "Look what I found, Angie! I brought you one, but it looks like you already have a stud. I think I'll keep them both. I'll see you tomorrow."
She looked back over her shoulder as they walked away, both guys fighting to grab her ass. "Maybe!"
Angela looked disgusted. "It hit her hard when her husband dumped her. She had a boob job and a few wrinkles removed, hoping to get him back. He wouldn't have anything to do with her, and now she's on a pretty destructive path, trying to prove herself as an attractive woman. All she's been attracting lately are leaches cashing in on the free sex and her bank account. I hope she comes to her senses. It's so sad, she really is a nice woman and quite attractive for her age. There are three more close friends in our circle, all of us going back to college, and we take turns trying to babysit her and keep her safe until she comes around. I'm about to lose hope."
"I have no doubt she'll wake up someday with a massive hangover, in bed with a man 25 or 30 years her junior, try to remember what his name is and it will hit her. 'I'm too old to be this stupid anymore.' Then she'll start coming back. One should always remember that the first person you have to make happy is yourself, and she's obviously not happy."
Her face slowly lit up. "Thank you, Reggie, for that excellent bit of advice. I think in the near future I will be worrying more about my happiness than that of others."
Her phone chimed and she checked it. "My Uber is here. Will you walk me out?"