At 58 life was decidedly good. Not everything had gone exactly to plan. I had lost my wife ten years earlier, but both of our adult children were out of the house, past college, and married. I had started my own construction company with my best friend 30-years prior. We had grown it into a multi-million dollar venture. Most days I let the company run itself, and my friend had long since sold most of his stake and moved to Hawaii. Not a terrible plan.
So I found myself usually living alone, lots of disposable income, and no obligations. I took up yoga, laid into golf, and occasionally dated 30-and 40-somethings for fun. But that was about it. And although my age was starting to show, at 6'3" and with ample time on my hands I kept in better shape than most of my peers. When the hostess at the country club caught me leering or I snuck a peak at a hot little number in the yoga studio... it usually didn't go anywhere, but they certainly didn't seem to mind. A "silver fox," they called me.
For years, life had few surprises until my encounter with Josephine. It was the last week of May and my company usually awarded scholarships to employee's children headed to college. Josephine, at 18, was leaving the local high school and heading to a nearby private university. She was the daughter of one of our electricians and she had received a partial scholarship to be on the university's cross-country team. The tuition was pretty extraordinary and although her father intended to help, they couldn't cover it all. Even our maximum scholarship amount wasn't enough. The staff that handled the internal scholarship application process had forwarded her details to me and I was to meet with her to see what we could do.
So on another lazy Saturday I had an 11:00am appointment with Josephine. She arrived at my house, a red brick home on the outskirts of town that was starting to feel ridiculous to live in alone. My office looked out to the front courtyard and I saw Josephine pull up in a red Jeep wrangler. It had a slight post-factory lift and made it look like a formidable machine. I was surprised when out of the excessively large Jeep stepped a beautiful pixie.
Josephine was about 5'4" and looked as if she weighed 100 pounds soaking wet. She was fit, from the running that earned her athletic scholarship, but not overly muscular. Nice and toned. She had dark auburn hair that was tied up into an extensive bun. It looked as if she had so much hair it would easily reach down to her ass but was contained above her shoulders for now. She had shown up for the appointment in a loose, but revealing, white athletic racerback tank top. The sides of her top flowed and occasionally exposed her ribs and taught stomach. The top cascaded around the very top of black yoga pants that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her firm little bubble butt was on display for all who were curious. Her pant legs crested into the folds of what I imagined was a very tight pussy, and her thighs looked gorgeous swishing from her Jeep to my front door. To top it all off she had donned a pair of all-white converse tennis shoes that accentuated her youthful, energetic vibe.
My housekeeper greeted Josephine and brought her into my office where I immediately noticed her eyes. They were deep brown and sat just above a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. As our eyes met I think I felt the hint of a spark. Her face was perfect. Gorgeous and stunningly symmetrical. She had applied a little bit of makeup: mascara and attention to her eyelashes to make them appear bolder. I covertly tried to take all of her in before pointing her small, feminine frame to the chair in front of my desk.
"Good to meet you," I said, "Please... sit."
I took my seat opposite Josephine behind an imposing wooden desk. The gorgeous, sexy teen in front of me sat in the large armchair I provided. Her lithe frame totally absorbed by the furniture. She crossed her toned legs and I couldn't help but notice the way the "V" of her abdomen and pussy in her yoga pants. How it connected to her petite thighs.
She looked embarrassed, but not from my fleeting glance.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Her voice was angelic. Sweet, submissive, but with just enough confidence. I think she knew of the effect she had on men. "Nothing," Josephine said, "I'm sorry I didn't realize how nice your home is. I feel completely underdressed."
I smiled.
"Not at all," I said, "I'm not very formal." I knew something about my answer probably didn't land. Even though I did think of myself as informal, I was sitting in freshly laundered jeans, $300 shoes, a starched shirt, and blue blazer. She seemed to relax a little, but only a little.
I picked up the papers my secretary had laid out for me on all the scholarship applicants. As a blue collar industry, there were not that many children even interested in going to college. We also had an apprentice program where they could take up most of the trades anyway. Josephine was one of the most promising applicants and what she was really asking for, whether she knew it or not, was an exception to our funding limits.
"So give me the lay of the land," I said, "What can I do for you?"
She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. "Well - first - I appreciate so much that you're talking with me today and all the company has done for me and Dad." I nodded and she continued. "It's kind of a complicated situation but I've got a half scholarship to do cross-country and the company is kicking in $10,000 per semester... which is amazing. But that leaves $15,000 a semester for tuition and fees alone. So like, I'm not even living on campus and still have other expenses. Dad will do what he can but he can't really make up $30,000, $50,000 a year."
"I'm surprised you're not on any academic scholarship."
"Yeah," she said. As she talked I found myself focusing too much on her lips, the way she nervously glanced to the side as she spoke, and how easy it would be for me to pin her against a wall and have my way with her. "My grades are pretty good, but some of the people who come here are the smartest people in the world it feels like. There's not much left for me."
"So why not student loans? Just curious." I said.
"Well," she bit her lip, "I could. I know I could. But I've just read so many horror stories about student loans and... well... I'm not going to be an engineer."
"What are you going to be?" I asked, and for the first time her eyes looked up to me and I could see her swell with confidence.
"Honestly," she said, "I want to be an artist. They have a great fine arts and art history program. But I promised Dad I would take business courses and stick with Spanish as my minor, and I would consider being a business major. At least have something on that front." She looked away again, "He was thinking if all else fails having some business savvy and being able to speak Spanish... I'd at least know people in the trades who could get me a job. But not a job that can make up $200,000 in student loan debt any time soon."
I found myself becoming intrigued. "What kind of art?"
"Everything!" she said, "I paint mostly, but I'm starting to get into street art, stenciling, and some other mixed media. They have a whole class on Banksy at the school."
We talked for another fifteen minutes about her art, college, and what she had ahead. As she spoke I could feel myself becoming inappropriately smitten with the creature some 40-years my junior now sitting in my home office. She was stunning, driven, and the sexiest thing of all... she was in need of me.
"Alright well," I said, after a while, "Josephine the thing we're working against here is that the scholarship fund was designed for the state colleges. A maximum of $10,000 per semester, per student." She immediately looked crestfallen. "Can I ask what is your plan if we can't make up any of the difference? Will you still go?"
