I walked into the popular little downtown snackette and ordered my favourite, strange indulgence: a vegetable salad and three scoops of ice cream - chocolate, butterscotch and rum n raisin. I looked around for a vacant table, or one I cold share, preferably with a sweet young thing. At my age, fifty nine, such a privilege was always on the lookout for. My eyes fell on a stately looking elderly woman sitting all alone. I stared at her neatly cut, relaxed, short cropped pixie, grey and brown natural hair, shining under the lights with some kind of oil sheen.
She had a mid-tan complexion, just like mine. Her nose was straight and flared wide over lips that were not too thin, but not thick, on a wide mouth that curved upward in a permanent soft smile. Her eyes round and black, again like mine. And her eyebrows which were neatly trimmed, shot upward and then straight back down and wide, giving her a fierce look that contrasted with her smiling lips, but somehow seemed to mesh in the overall prettiness of her face which was just slightly creased, mostly on the forehead.
I recognized her immediately: Ms. Grant, my old primary school teacher. My heart lurched, it had been so long; I had been thinking, only recently, about her and wondering if I'd ever see her again. The last sighting had been twenty years ago.
I'd joined Ms. Grant's class when I was a shy ten year old and she an equally shy and petite twenty year old, just out of teacher's college. I was one of, if not her favourite pupils, and she soon became my favourite teacher and an object of my boyhood romantic fantasies. I developed a huge crush on her that lasted for years, continuing even after I left for high school two years later. Sometimes, during break periods she would ask me to run across the road to the Chinese grocery to get her a Pepsi and some pastry, or mints and salted nuts, errands I was only too happy to perform.
After I left for high school I still saw her occasionally, as we lived in the same district. Five years later she moved away, to another part of town, but as the years went by I would still see her once in a while around the city going about her business, sometimes a year or two apart. We would always greet each other and on a few occasions chatted briefly. But before the day in question, the last time I bumped into her was about twenty years ago. I looked at her and just knew that if she stood up she would be the same petite and shapely young teacher I'd crushed on. At that time she'd had firm, straight, pointy B-cup breasts, a narrow waist and flared hips on a slim frame, with legs just slightly bowed, so her hips and pert behind swayed when she walked.
"If you're not expecting company, mam and have no other objections, May I share this table with you?" I said, politely.
She spoke without looking up, "No objections ... and I've been out of the dating arena so long I can't even remember what the last gentleman looked like or if he wore cologne ... I got married early ... so you are free to sit young man," she said laughing at her joke. I laughed too.
"It didn't necessarily have to be a man, it could have been a daughter or granddaughter or sister," I said chuckling.
"Isn't it virtually always a man, when a lady sits alone in public and is expecting company? And also, all the persons you mentioned live abroad," she answered, still not looking up.
She continued, "And if you don't mind, could you kindly go find a Chinese shop and get me a Pepsi, a cheese roll and some mints ... I'll watch your food for you."
I burst out laughing, "You recognize me!"
I recognized you the moment you walked through the door ... you haven't changed much since the last time I saw you. You look good old boy."
"And you too young lady, as beautiful as ever ... I bet if you stand up I'd be looking at that same knockout figure." I replied.
"Here comes the flattery," she said, but she was blushing madly.
She stood up, and I looked her over and shook my head approvingly. I put my arms around her, drew her close, leaned over and gave her a kiss, quickly, on the lips. The sweet old thing clutched me briefly and shivered. I felt my cock begin to rise, under that dress was something I should have touched years ago.
"Wow, I feel like the next time I have a similar conversation with a former pupil I can safely say I was on a date just the other day ... because you just make this seem like a date, you wicked man," she said, sounding breathless.
"They say what doesn't happen in a year, happens in a day ... well, I waited forty-nine years for that," I said.
She laughed out loud, and after looking about to see if anyone heard her, and was staring, she looked me in the eye.
"Really, Pat?" she asked, holding my stare.
"You bet your sweet self ... I had a huge crush on you; all the class knew."
"What, so that is why you were always hanging around me and walking me to my street some days?" she asked.
"Yes, I wanted to deter competition."
"And I never suspected a thing, it's amazing," she said, looking at me with surprised eyes.
"You don't know how happy I am to have met you today ... and to get that kiss ... this must count as one of, if not the happiest days of my life ... you'll give me another kiss when we part today, right, Ms. Grant?"
She threw back her head and laughed, not so loud this time.
"Don't push your luck little boy," she said teasingly.
We sat there prattling away like little kids, her cheeks getting redder and redder. I could tell she was warming up, like an old engine just serviced. I was probably making her remember past days of wine and roses. Every opportunity I got, I threw in a little flattery, complimenting her looks and calling her names like sweets, baby, honey. She did look well preserved for someone knocking seventy, so those words weren't so outrageous. And the response in my jeans my jeans confirmed it.
I learned that she had borne only one child, a girl, who now lived in London with her husband and five kids. Her husband had died ten years ago. She now shared an apartment in a family owned house with a younger, forty-five year old niece who was a spinster.
I got her to agree to a little drink in the garden-like bar of a popular hotel. She was telling me something when I just kept staring into her happy eyes without commenting, even after she had finished. She gave me a puzzled look, blushed, looked down, and then looked up back again to find me still staring silently at her.
"What?" she asked, in a tense whisper.
"You were my first love; I'd like you to be my last."
She sat up straight, obviously startled and thrown into a torrent of emotional confusion. She took up her glass, swallowed her cocktail in one gulp and then managed a weak smile.
"You had quite a huge crush ... it obviously hasn't worn off as yet," she said, nervously.
"Never will ... I remember how I used to sit and stare at you, lost in your words and not their meanings ... as young as I was I saw you as a very desirable woman and dreamt of someday being your man. Some of the boys knew and teased me."
She looked at me wide eyed, "All of that was going on and i never suspected."
"You couldn't have, your mind and my age would not have allowed you to think that."
"So, that was why you were always around me ... you saw me as your lady ... I was so blind ... poor you, I'm so sorry," she said, smiling.
