Fifty is such a daunting number. Half a century and it seems just yesterday when I was young and the world was new. I sit alone in a crowded bar nursing my third bourbon and coke as music blares around me drowning the sounds of younger people chatting and laughing. Today I am still the 'right' side of that psychological figure. I am forty-nine, but it is the eve of my 'Big 50'. It is only a number, I keep telling myself but in the back of my mind a small voice is chanting in a child-like taunt, "oldie, oldie, you are an oldie..." over and over. I sigh and drain the dark sweet liquid from my glass, wincing as two large ice cubes clank against my teeth.
"Another one, Sir?"
I glance around at the angel standing near my right shoulder. Her fresh, young face glows in the half light of the bar and her perfume is like a breath of springtime permeating through the fog of cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes that dominate the air in here.
"Make it a double if you would, thanks." I nod as I hand over my depleted glass. She smiles at me and warm sunlight bathes me for a moment. She is so pretty, with a faint spray of freckles across the bridge of her small, slightly up-turned nose. Her smile is broad, a preview of the laughter that dances in her large, dark eyes and I can't help wondering how she would feel naked and hugged against me.
As she walks back to the bar I let my eyes linger on her small, round buttocks and I dwell on the place where her tight slacks curve into the crack of her arse. She's wearing one of those thongs, I think as I watch those lovely buns perform their cheek-to-cheek dance. It is enough to stir me and I feel my penis raise its head from the lap of my balls like a faithful hound rising up at a new sound.
There is a gap in the crowd and I can see her standing at the bar waiting for my order to be placed onto her tray. She is a little shorter than average, I would guess at about 5' 2" tall. She compensates by leaning on the bar and raising herself onto her toes. My eyes can't stay off that magnificent arse. It is speaking to me and promising all manner of delights. Then she leans even further forward to retrieve her tray and her buttocks tighten. I imagine her delightful pussy, almost seeing it peeking out from between her perfect legs as if somehow I had been granted x-ray vision. Now my cock is really interested and I felt it stretch its neck until its head presses painfully against my cargo pants. My eyes are still glued to the place where her pleasure pit is hiding behind the stretched cloth of her slacks when she turns with the tray. I quickly raise my eyes but my little head is deep in thought and my gaze only lifts as high as her firm young breasts. They are lovely, large for such a small girl and straining against the crisp, white t-shirt as she walks towards me.
"Here you go." She set the brimming glass in front of me, bending forward across the table and I get a lovely look into the valley of her breasts. A moment passes and I realise I must be staring, so I tear my eyes away and raise them to her face.
She is smiling, a huge beaming smile, and her eyes have a knowing look that seems to say. 'I understand. You can't keep your eyes off the goodies huh, pops?'
"Huh? I am sorry. I didn't mean to stare, but you are so beautiful." I sound like a teenager on his first date, after his first clumsy kiss.
"That's ok." She replies, still bent forward. Her mouth is close enough to my ear that she does not need to shout so as to get her words to me. "You look like you need some cheering up tonight."
Very perceptive girl. I turn my face slightly and looked into her eyes. Our lips are only an inch apart and I see hers are moist and slightly parted as she returns my stare. Emotion courses through me. Impulsively I close the short gap and kiss her on the lips. She does not draw away immediately, instead I feel her return my kiss briefly before she steps back and straightens up.
"Well, you are the cheeky one." She laughs as she says it and playfully swats my arm with her tray.
"Oh, wow. I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist..." I am babbling, much to her amusement, and she laughs again at my discomfort. Her eyes flick downwards and I feel her gaze fall hot in my lap. I am fully aware what is happening there. I have an enormous erection and my trousers bulge like a Boy Scout's tent.
"I can see why." She winks at me as she turns to another customer, but I notice that she exaggerates her walk and her arse cheeks mince together so lovingly that I expect them to smoke from the friction. Roger, you are in love, I think to myself as I reach for my drink.
* * * * *
I have not quite finished my drink, my mind again glumly assessing the prospect of turning fifty thus shedding my youth like a worn out skin, when I smell her perfume. She slides into the chair next to me and takes the glass from my hand, sips at it and hands it back with a cute smile.
"I'm on my break." She explains, tossing her dark hair back over her shoulders. "My name is Christina." She holds out a slender hand with long delicate fingers and I take it in my own, giving it a quick squeeze and a shake before releasing her again.
"Roger." I reply.
"Is that an affirmative or is it your name?" She laughs.
"I'm Roger. It's my name." Suddenly I am afraid I will dry up conversationally. I can't think what she and I could possibly have in common given our age difference. I would say she was not older than nineteen.
"Hi Roger. Now do you mind telling me why you have been sitting her all evening looking like a man before the day of his own hanging?"
I smile at the analogy. Indeed I could see similarities between that and my turning fifty. Tomorrow my life is over. I officially join the ranks of the 'Old Farts' with their walking sticks, and nursing homes are not too far away.
"Very perceptive my dear." I must have smiled because she touches my lips with her finger.
"So you can smile. I was wondering about that."
"Oh, I can... I just need a reason."
"Oh, poor hon..." She strokes my cheek, leaning towards me so that she can reach. I can't help glancing down at the swell of her breasts as they strain against her t-shirt. I notice her nipples have hardened and protrude sensuously. My tongue licks along my lips as I look at those thumb-like delicacies wishing that I could pop them, one at a time, into my mouth.
"...tell me, why so glum?"
My sigh is an evening breeze lamenting the sun as it disappears below the horizon. I drop my eyes away from her tempting morsels, turning my stare to the drink coaster in front of me instead, looking at the words scrolled around its edge but not reading them.
"It is my birthday tomorrow."
She takes my hand between both of hers and hugs it against her cheek.
"But that is a reason to celebrate."
"What? The coming of age?" I snort a small, bitter laugh at my bad pun but she is actually making me feel better. Her laughter is a tonic that charges my aging blood and a new vigour makes me feel suddenly younger. I revel in her touch and the feel of her smooth cheek against my hand.
"I turn twenty in a couple of months." She cocks her head against my hand and looks at me through her eyebrows, her lips pout as she contemplates the seriousness of that statement.
"Twenty?" Now I actually laugh. It is a short sound but filled with genuine amusement. "I was twenty, thirty years ago."
"So it is your fiftieth birthday tomorrow?" She puts my hand on the table and claps hers together in a short, silent burst of applause then drops them both on top of mine again. "Are you celebrating? Your wife throwing you a party?"
"I'm not married and 'no' I am not having a party."
Christina looks directly into my face and her smile slips away like a sunbeam eclipsed by a cloud. "Oh..."
"Its okay. Thank you for caring." My other hand reaches over to stroke her cheek as my knee brushes hers under the table. Her warmth makes me think of soft, velvety skin glowing with the moisture of passion. She is so desirable.
"Would you like me to be your birthday present?" Her smile is back and there are little horns in the look she gives me. She slips one hand from the cluster between us, and it snakes unnoticed under the table. Now it is squeezing my knee in emphasis to her proposal.
"I would like nothing more in the whole world." I reply. "But I am old enough to be your father."
It is a dumb thing to say and I almost bite my tongue at the stupidity of that remark, it sounds so patronising, but she throws back her head and laughs.
