Black Loofah

Author's Notes

Ethan is a bored retiree with a past he'd rather keep bottled up. What he was not anticipating was just how hard it was to keep still with all the time he now had on his hands. That was until he saw a Black Loofah swinging on the hip of a cute thing.

Expanding my horizons into the Mature category a bit. Would love to hear your feedback and what your thoughts are in the comments!

Thanks Kenji as always for being an amazing editor!

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The Black Loofah

Cicada song, the trilling of golf carts, and the seasoned laughter of the golden years of life. Such was the existence of a retiree, where the biggest worry to have was finding the optimal parking spot at Plenish Grocery. The last electric whine of the battery ceased, as Ethan Locke removed the key from the ignition of his Fairway Cruiser. Sitting back, he took a warm breath as the humid condensation of life in southern Westoria collected on his brow. Around him, similar golf carts and other buggies sat idle outside of the local grocery fare. Many of which sported an eclectic mix of flags, decor, and most notoriously-- loofahs.

Ethan was a reserved person, had been for his whole life, both personally and professionally. He made it a point to never wear nor tout any sort of symbolism on either clothing, car, or cart. He didn't want people to see what he was about by looking at some bumper sticker on his car, or a flag outside his garage. He wanted to go unnoticed, unverifiable, and uncommitted to any cause or creed. Most of all, he found the loofah to be particularly contemptuous.

In his six months since moving to The Preserve Retirement Community, he could not understand the proclivity of displaying advertisements of your sexual preferences for the world to see. The proverbial "open for business" sign that was Loofah Code in the Preserve. A rainbow of such colored loofahs advertised anything from those who liked to watch, to those with submissive tendencies. From the red-colored loofahs of those open to anything and everything, to pink loofahs of those open to fully swapping partners. It made his stomach roll at times, especially seeing his retired peers who outwardly advertised such things. They should know better.

It was not hard to find, either; walking through the parking lot to the store entrance, he could spot at least a dozen carts with such outward displays. Perhaps the rumors he had heard before moving here, about this being the venereal disease capital of Corvusia were true. Certainly, his neighbors wanted to live their best life in their later years.

For now, as he'd adjusted to retired life, Ethan took a humid, deep breath and chose to ignore it. Perhaps, the transition from serious work to carefree life made him a bit jaded. The frightening thought that with enough idleness he could become one of the loofah-touting floozies of this community, scared him for a moment, but he would never.

"They let anybody in here." The age-old adage thrown about by middle-aged dads the world over caught Ethan off guard, as he moved between the gradient of temperatures that separated the warm outside to the cooler AC of the grocer.

"Trick is to not give 'em a choice," Ethan responded, with a small smirk. Throwing out his hand to meet his old friend's embrace.

An older couple, greyed, wrinkled, but modest-- and thankfully absent of any loofahs-- stood before him in front of the BOGO bin at the entrance to the store. Ethan was particularly hopeful to not see their golf cart, out of some dread his perception of his old co-worker and friend would be broken.

"You settled in yet? I told you I would come help unpack boxes."

"Yes please, get him out of the house and working!" the wife jested, as she poked her husband's arm.

"Ha... sorry, Julia, but I'm all unpacked. I have been since day two."

"Hmph, no surprise. You always were efficient back at the company."

Ethan's smirk wavered, trying to conceal himself. As a defensive mechanism he changed the subject.

"Just enjoying the day out, Bill?"

"Ha... I always like goading you. It's gonna take a while for you to change."

"'Til I'm dead."

Both Bill and Julia laughed heartily.

"Oh come on, Ethan... relax a little, you've earned it." Julia brushed his arm kindly, a warm smile on her face.

"I'm still young. Still a lot I could do."

"Don't be bitter, Ethan. Count yourself lucky to retire at fifty-five. Not a lot of us get the privilege."

"I wouldn't call it that."

"My friend, think of the bright side, find yourself a woman while you are still fifty-five years young and handsome, settle down, travel, keep yourself busy with things other than memories of work."

"Ah, like that cute thing we saw in the soup aisle?" Julia giggled.

"Ha! Yes, like that."

"What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing... just some girl, young thing, walking around the store, loofah on her hip."

"A black loofah."

"Oh gods..."

"Eh, you get them from time to time. Girls, even boys, who come to the community looking for a more... mature encounter."

"Oh, okay, whoa there, not you both, too."

"Oh no, no, don't get us wrong, not our style. But for how casual it is, might be right up your alley."

"Not likely."

"I bet a man like you would be a perfect match for her desires."

"Really, Julia?" Ethan was growing tired, maybe this place was wrong for him.

"Really..."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because of the black loofah."

"What does that even mean? I haven't planned to learn loofah code."

"Really? A discerning man like you hasn't cracked the code yet?"

Ethan just stared, no plans to entertain that question.

"Well, buddy, I'll give you this one." He patted Ethan on the shoulder, coming alongside him and pointing towards aisle four where the soup lay waiting. "The black loofah... means she wants to be dominated and used. Sort of a lack of dignity, I guess. Like I said, it isn't my style."

"Oh, but you think it's mine?"

Both Bill and Julia laughed at the notion, shaking their heads in unison as they began to slowly step away. It made Ethan a little annoyed that the couple was having a gag at his expense, but with a rub of his temple, he decided it was best to let it go.

"Later, Locke," Bill said, without even a turn of his head. The older couple had a laugh at his expense all the way out to the parking lot.

Collecting himself, Ethan would move on, just as silently and discreetly as he could.

Thoughts of the soup aisle occupied his mind for a time, and of this alleged black loofah. Some grim curiosity occupied him, as he gathered his deli meat and produce. Centering himself, he tried to focus on other things, but therein lay the problem. Retired, nary a job or family, what should he focus on?

That fear of nothingness hung over him like a cloud, as he entered the maw of the soup aisle. Grasping on to a faint memory of meaning and purpose, he struggled within himself, 'til the black mesh ball of fabric hanging from a jutted hip caught his eye.

"You know. You ever been to Maragesh? I have a whole collection of jewels the girls there used to wear dancing. Got it during my time working for the oil company. The most beautiful thing there, a sort of necklace that hung along the girls hips, and bright colorful jewels hanging above their navels as they danced circles around us, bopping their hips side to side."

An older man, amidst a long-winded and tiresome story, drew his finger across the supple bare skin of a girl's midriff as he outlined just where such a jewel would be. As he blathered on, he rested his full palm on the girl's tummy, stroking it with his thumb as she hung close to him. She was far younger than he, so much so he wondered if this girl should even be here alone. Her soft face and innocent eyes happily lingered within the older man's grasp as she flaunted her young body in a black spaghetti-strap crop-top and baggy sweats.

"You know. One of those jewels would look fantastic on a beauty like you. Want to try?" The older man smiled, his finger strumming her belly button as she smiled brightly and prepared to nod.

"Gideon." Ethan cut through the awkward sexual tension hoarsely, as he approached unannounced.

"Oh! Shoot! Ethan." The old man, bald head glistening in the LED light from above, separated from the girl some, but not totally, in surprise. A rather guilty expression on his wrinkled face as he caught his breath.

"The hell, Ethan, you, you scared me. And Tilly!"

"Tilly, huh?" He hung over the pair, taller than both, more in shape than Gideon, and observed the girl. She had long frizzy brown hair, soft white skin, and what the youth would call a "snatched" waist. Must be the "cute thing" Bill and Julia were referring to earlier. And sure enough, there hung a black loofah on her hip, like an open-for-business sign.

His lecherous friend, Gideon, was a known quantity. Never was a tail he didn't try to chase. If the black loofah was what he was told it means, Then, certainly, he saw this as his chance.

"Hi, yes I am Tilly." The young girl smiled brightly, eyes like fire, looking over the newcomer before her. Tracing his tattooed arms to his grey beard, she gawked for a long moment. What looked like an intense shiver, shot up her body oddly, as she, too, separated from her previous interest.

"Gideon, this one is old enough to be your granddaughter."

"Pfft, but she ain't." A phlegmy laugh followed.

Ethan stoically looked over the pair, the girl named "Tilly" still sized him up with much interest, as she kept her hands behind her back and small chest pushed out proudly.

"What would Myrtle think?"

Tilly looked surprised, obviously he had not mentioned his wife as of yet. But what did this girl expect? To walk around the Preserve, the preeminent retirement community and just find a bunch of single men?

"Oh well, hey, Ethan, you don't gotta go that far." Gideon looked terse at the reminder of his wife.

"Just saying." Ethan cooly shrugged his shoulders.

"Hmph... well, I should tell yo--" Gideon paused mid-thought, shook his head and turned away. "You know what, never mind. Tilly, sorry to bother you." The stout and bald man strutted off, leaving his cart half full of groceries behind.

"Thank you, sir." Tilly took a step closer to Ethan, her eyes still observing him. His broad shoulders, tanned skin, and muscular chest fascinating her imagination. "That guy was never gonna stop bothering me, I think." She played the damsel in distress. Yet such an act didn't work when the damsel was wearing a big sign that said "fuck me" on it.

"Don't mention it. Where are your parents?"

"Parents? What am I a kid?"

"I don't know. Are you?" Ethan looked at her coldly.

This seemed to bother Tilly, her cute cheeks puffing out and eyebrows growing red as she stared up at him.

"No, I'm nineteen." Her retort was cold, with a spritz of attitude as she came nose to chest with him. "And I'm just passing through. Looking for a friend." She reached out and grazed Ethan's veiny arm, rubbing it up to his elbow before he pulled back.

Catching himself, Ethan cracked his neck, looking down at the petite girl hanging so loosely beneath her clothes, an eager smile on her face. Her dainty shoulders beneath the strings of her tank-top shrugged, as she mustered all her allure to ensnare him.

"Well. You should find friends your own age, honestly." Closing himself off, his cold stoicism became obvious, and the eagerness in Tilly was disturbed.

"Hey, where are you going?!" She watched as he walked away with his basket, inspecting a can of broth a few meters down the aisle.

"Shopping. You should go home, there are a lot of men who will eat you up and spit you right back out around here. Girl like you shouldn't get entangled with that."

He didn't even bother looking back to her as he turned down the next aisle. It was a spurn that made the girl enflamed, not only with rage, but with a prideful desire to show this Ethan guy, otherwise. She was young, beautiful, and eager. No man should walk away from her. Glaring, she struck out in the opposite direction, she was not giving up so easily.

Content on leaving that problem in the past, Ethan moved on to his next priority in life, picking out ground coffee. Of course, being practical and on the budget of a retiree, his eye strayed towards the on-sale signs so brightly and predominantly placed along the shelves. Their trendy packages and hip names each sticking out to him.

Black Tiger, Black Brew, Black Lotus, Black Morning.

Ethan grunted. Why was he so preoccupied by this whole thing? He blamed Bill, personally, he couldn't hold a grudge against his nice wife; she had made him cake when he moved in. But Bill always pissed him off, whether it was in retirement or back at work in Millbourne. And here, he had this black-loofah nonsense stuck in his head.

Taking a loud and deep breath that disturbed a few other passersby, some looking on with concern, Ethan buried it. He had become truly content, he could go on about his day weaving through the aisles of the store. His only worry was bumping into an oncoming cart at the mouth of each aisle.

"Pool? Ohmygosh, I love that game. It's the one with the big... sticks, right?" A ditsy statement drenched in purposeful suggestion caught Ethan's attention.

"Yeah beautiful, we got a whole set up back at my place. Drinks, food. You should come play with us."

"I betcha some of these guys will even offer to spot ya a hand or two of poker."

"Wow really? That sounds really fun."

Tilly scrunched her nose, an older man hung close behind her swatting at the black loofah on her hip as they all knowingly laughed.

For what reason did he even feel the need to intervene? He honestly should care less about this girl. But as he happened upon the scene, the teen having been surrounded by five hungry retired men, it was the look she gave him that sucked him in. The look was as if she were saying, "If you don't stop me, I'll do it." It dared him to care.

Truth be told, Ethan was discerning. He could read people, it came with his previous profession. This girl didn't read like a garden-variety slut. That was just the layer she wore as a cloak.

What Ethan was not, was a noble knight of virtue. He had no higher calling to adhere to, no strong set of convictions to judge himself against. Just his desire to remain discreet.

But regardless, something willed him to step towards the gaggle of lust.

"Harold, Lukus." He pointedly interrupted the crowd of men honed in on the lone girl. What struck Ethan the most was that no one else in the store seemed to notice or care about these situations. It was just a fact of life there.

"Ethan, man. Good to see you." Unlike Gideon, Harold didn't even flinch, or remove his hand from the small of Tilly's back when he was called upon. He just smiled, holding the girl close as she bumped him with her hip in a flirty way, just hoping Ethan would be jealous.

"We're gonna go back to my place and get a few games of poker in. We made a friend who's going to join us, too." Lukus, a tall and slim man who looked the most comfortable in a boardroom, smiled. "Should be fun."

Tilly smiled and squinted at Ethan, as if she would get a rise out of him.

"Huh, I see that. How are the wives doing?" He gave back his own smile, less a tell of emotion and more a non-verbal tool.

The looks on the five men's faces soured. Some annoyed, others embarrassed. The crowd cleared quickly as they scurried in all directions away from the teen; Lukus grunting as he looked Ethan in the eye and silently walked away.

"You're a real saint," Lukus muttered, as he disappeared down the bread aisle.

Ethan didn't pay them any attention. Clearly, he was not making any friends in the community any time soon.

"If you're not going to do anything with me... then why don't you just leave me alone!" Tilly shouted, a few virtuous old ladies in various hats stopped and scoffed, their heads shaking as they saw Ethan with the black-loofah-wearing teen.

"You can just walk on away, let me do as I please. Seriously." She shoved past Ethan, like a little feather with the disparity of their size, but enough to prove a point.

"Fine. You're a grown woman," Ethan growled. He didn't really care anyways. He only did something because this whole black-loofah shit was stuck in his head.

She didn't turn back, but for a brief second, she held back a sob. Crossing her arms tightly as she marched through the frozen food section of the store, out of sight and out of Ethan's mind.

"Fuck it, thank god." He gruffly closed his eyes and cracked his neck. When he opened his eyes, those three old ladies were still staring at him, judging him, shaking their heads. "Oh, good grief." He dashed into the next aisle, even though it was the pet food aisle, and he did not have one of those. Anything but those looks of judgement.

It was a lot harder to get Tilly and that damned loofah out of his mind-- her burning eyes glistening with tears and rage. She certainly was a feisty girl. He must be getting soft in his retirement, drawn in like that to something that was not his business. He'd dealt with plenty of women before, both in professional and... other settings. None could claim to have any power over him.

Reflecting on the first six months of his end-of-life exile, perhaps, he did need to get a hobby, or a lady, or something. He'd be damned if Bill would be right, but the way he was feeling certainly gave it some credence.

Last aisle, dairy, just a few quick grabs and he could be off and home before he knew it. Perhaps, he was tired, and a nap was in order. All of this weird loofah imagery and young sluts made him weary. What a day.

But fate wasn't having it, and neither was the girl named Tilly. Coming into the aisle, the pair locked eyes once more. This time, Ethan had to look way down, as Tilly was bent over at the hip picking up something she more than likely purposefully dropped. Behind her, yet another older man, and surprisingly, his wife who looked just as interested. Seeing Ethan, the young Tilly quickly backward stepped, her small ass pushing against the old man's crotch as she kept herself doubled over.

"Whoa, hey there, sweetie." The old man laughed, his wife clinging on to his arm with a bright veneer smile.

"She certainly is flexible, a healthy girl!" The greyed lady fussed with her perm as she watched her slide her ass along her husband's crotch.

Popping up, Tilly kept her eyes on Ethan, but slowly peeled them away with a knowing expression as she turned to face her new suitors.

"Oh yes, ma'am, strong and healthy." She held up her two lanky arms, thin and devoid of any muscular definition. Her girlish smile drew in the older couple, their eyes focusing on the slight jiggle of her tits beneath her tank-top as she moved around.

"Well, we'd love a girl of your vitality come and join us for lunch today. It would be a lot of... fun..." the older lady mused, her done-up hair and bright makeup concealing her old age just as much as the poignant perfume did the staleness of her flesh.

Ethan walked by, without a look in their direction or word. Tilly's eyes were focused on him, hoping he would say something. Her mouth hung open like she was about to yell at him, chastise him for not being man enough to take her home. But as he turned down the end of the aisle, her heart sank, and her eyes flickered, for just a moment, of dark self-reflection.

"Yeah... it would be a lot of fun." She gulped, her tone at first like a contribution to the void, only hurriedly scooped up by a lackluster performance of interest. She gave her best smile to the older couple, the man's hands falling on her bare hips like a flood, as she felt every wrinkle of his palm.