You, dear reader, will have to make up your own mind if this is a true story or not. I can say the names are fictional.
*****
It took me over ten minutes to spot Anita in the crowd. Even though we had been friends for almost thirty years, and I had painted her portrait, I did not recognize her.
Her fellow teachers had put on a spectacular retirement Garden Party in the back yard one of the teachers. The large garden was packed with teachers, students, parents, friends and smattering of children and toddlers. An overlay of background music filled the hot late summer air.
My eye had passed over a rather tall, hot-looking fortyish woman in a white shift dress several times without a moment of recognition, even though my eyes had lingered on her for more than a few seconds. It was only when I was near her as she greeted someone that I identified Anita's voice and took a surprised harder look.
Gone was the long black hair streaked with grey done up in a bun or ponytail. She wore her hair short, cleverly styled and enhanced to a shiny deep chestnut.
The careworn expression and worry creases on her formally thin face had disappeared. She was at least ten pounds heavier than when I had last seen her some eighteen months earlier. She carried a glowing tan.
The extra weight filled out the dress nicely. The deep cut arm openings of the blinding white shift dress revealed just enough side-boob to tease. The scooped neckline and a clear absence of a bra provided a tantalizing peekaboo as she bent down to talk to the toddlers. This attractive woman caught my eye further when the wind pressed the fabric against her body to suggest she had dispensed with panties as well. She was dressed to attract the male gaze.
Her look and dress were so unlike Anita I had not even considered she could be my friend.
A few moments after I identified her voice, Anita turned in my direction. She spotted me. She rushed over giving me an uncharacteristic full body hug. Usually her hugs were the shoulder-forward kind with no torso contact.
"Michel. Michael. Michael. How are you?"
I hardly had time to reply, "Fine, thank you."
She charged on breathlessly, "We must meet up soon. I'll call you next week. Too many people here for us to chat properly. Well over a hundred Sophie told me. I'll call you." Anita turned aside in the blink of an eye and had moved on to speak to a couple standing next to us.
I was annoyed. I felt dismissed. Brushed off. I'd changed some other plans to attend Anita's retirement party. I was uncertain if I had been given a permanent brush off from this woman who had replaced the Anita I knew. I had severe doubts that I would get a call from her. I could not imagine what events could have possibly have changed her so much. This was so much more than a retirement coming out.
I returned to my apartment. Choked up. The half bottle of malt whisky failed to lift my spirits. I lingered on the fact that this fifty seven year old woman who now looked forty had no use for a seventy eight year old now acting his age. I was miserable and very sorry for myself.
I remained this way for several days. Called my far away kids and learned of the grandchildren's activities. Slowly shaking off my apathy, I started back into my usual routine. I was resigned to and saddened by the fact Anita was gone from my life.
Totally out of the blue Anita phoned the following Thursday. My elation was in total contrast to the doubt and depression I had felt. I silently apologized to Anita for doubting her.
"Michael. I'm so sorry I was so brusque with you at the party. I was worried I might say something inappropriate in front of others. That party was the closing of the middle phase of my life. I hope you can forgive me."
"Anita. Yes I was hurt. But this call makes things a lot better."
"Annie. Call me Annie now. Please."
"Whatever you say. Annie." A rebranding I thought.
"Can you come over to see me tomorrow? I'll make lunch and dinner, so come about noon. We have a lot to talk about."
"Oh, Anita - Annie you've changed beyond all recognition. I didn't recognize you at the party until I heard your voice. I'm now so curious to hear your story. Of course, I'll come over."
"That's wonderful. Tomorrow at noon? So much to tell."
"What can I bring?"
"Not much. Maybe a bottle of wine. Red French for preference. And, of course, your ears."
"Can't wait to see you and hear the full story. See you tomorrow."
Over the course of a few minutes my mood had jumped from morose to joyous.
On my way to Anita's - Annie's - house I picked up three bottles of good French wines.
The surprises started as soon as Annie opened the door. She was bare footed with brief tight shorts and a white tank top. Her tanned, smooth, shapely and firmly muscled legs begged for attention. Her nipples were just evident as they capped the contours of her breasts. She looked magnificent.
"Close your mouth. Come in and give me a hug."
I handed over the bag containing the wine. She placed it on the hall table and in a flash she was giving me a deep, long full-body hug.
I could feel her breasts squashing against me and lower down her pelvis was asserting its presence against mine. I discovered for the first time this was one advantage of being the same height as Annie.
She then eased back a bit and planted a long soft and delicate kiss on my lips. Annie disengaged slightly and traced her tongue over my lips several times before darting it between them and into my surprised mouth. Her actions created an immediate warm glow in my groin.
She reengaged her hug. I took the liberty of running my hand up her back under her tank top. She gave a soft pleasure purr. As we stepped back I could see her now hard nipples pushing out the white cotton. I remembered the only other time I had tried the under-the-blouse back caress Anita almost punched me out with a supporting harangue that lasted for a full five minutes. She had changed. Big time.