I remember three key details from when I first saw her: her hair; what she wore; and an overwhelming feeling that I would get to know her. I had no idea who she was, and though I could tell she was attractive, right then and there I didn't feel an overwhelming physical attraction to her looks. What I did feel, however, was an attraction to her in a manner beyond explanation. I felt drawn to her.
~0~
"You just get along well with older people, don't you?"
I agreed because it's true. Some personal connections and friendships transcend age...
~0~
Coffee, made with love
Β© 2019 Thefireflies, exclusively for Literotica
~0~
A WEEK AGO...
"CafΓ© or pub?"
"Let see what comes first," I answered as we walked around the corner, scanning the street ahead for suitable venues.
"You said cums first," Sally giggled with immaturity, and then so did I.
Except we were no longer teens, but adults in our mid-thirties. But some things never change. Yet, part of me was glad when we came across a cafΓ©. When I was younger I'd have straight up said pub, but nowadays I see them as gambling dens and sport's bars, with banks of poker machines and wall to wall TVs showing rugby and cricket, horse racing and Keno.
Sally entered the cafΓ© and I followed, noting with some amusement she still turned a few patron's heads. Yep, some things never change. Sadly for her, from what she's told me in recent times, her husband no longer takes much notice of her. I know we'll spend much of this catch-up discussing her marital woes.
The pretty young waitress smiled at us, directing us to take a seat, then took our order of two flat white coffees, a chicken and avocado panini for Sally, and a pulled pork sandwich and chips for me.
"Weren't you on a health kick?" Sally asked in a semi-surprised tone. "With all the fresh produce you're growing."
"Leave me alone. I have a whole week of meetings ahead of me so I need comfort food right now."
She laughed. "Well, you look healthy, Todd. Must be the country air you're getting now you're a farmer."
"Our place in the hinterland isn't really the country and I'm definitely not a farmer. It's only two hectares."
"Might as well be the country," she replied with a smile, then a sigh. "Compared to here, anyway. Brisbane feels more hectic than ever."
Sally, my oldest friend in the world, has two kids, a workaholic and neglectful husband, plus her own career as a prosecution barrister, so I was fairly certain as to what caused her sigh. We've always had time for each other, a connection going way back to primary school, but we don't catch up often anymore since I've moved away from Brisbane. But we've known each other since time began, or at least it feels like it anyway, and she was the only non-family I'd decided to tell I was in town on this week-long work trip.
Our conversation flowed back and forth, asking general questions about each other's families, mutual friends, work, life. If all else failed, we could reminisce about some old shit we got up to, way back in the day, but there was no need for us to get overly sentimental. I knew she was avoiding the elephant in the room for as long as possible, her problems with her husband Harvey, because she likely feared the flood-gates of emotion would burst and she'd ruin our catch up. She'd get around to her problems in time, I was sure.
Thankfully we'd beaten the lunch crowd by moments, which built up soon after we'd made our orders, bringing back ancient memories for me, of working in a similar cafΓ© in Brisbane's West End, way back throughout my years at university. Land's End was the name of the cafΓ© I'd worked in, which was to become a significant part of my life.
When our coffees and food arrived we stopped our chit-chatting to eat. For a moment I could overhear snippets of conversation from two women sitting at the next table, perhaps in their late thirties or early forties. I hadn't even noticed them sit next to us, but now I took interest in their conversation and could tell Sally did too, cocking her ear towards them.
"Yes, I read that!" The woman with the black hair said. "It's a little creepy, right?"
The other woman, with light brown hair, responded, "I suppose when you're a big-time Hollywood star, age doesn't matter."
"It's not just actors. Did you hear about the sixty year-old dentist up the coast leaving his wife for his twenty-four year-old nurse? She was pregnant with his baby!"
The other woman made a tut-tut sound with her tongue. "And then there's that politician who did something similar. These men are abusing their power. And you never hear of sixty-year old women dating twenty-year old men, even if they're big-time actors."
"Yeah, it's completely sexist."
"It totally is. Dirty old bastards."
The woman with the black hair giggled. "Would I be a dirty old woman if I had a twenty-something year-old?"
Raising her eyebrows, her companion asked, "Is there something you haven't told me, Claire?"
Claire giggled. "No, unfortunately. I can only dream."
"Can't we all? Anyhow, you're only thirty-nine, so you aren't old."
"Forty next month, remember."
"Doesn't life begin at forty?" Claire's friend spoke with a hint of amusement. "Maybe you'll get a twenty year-old for your fortieth? What about young James at work?"
"Oh, James, still my beating heart," Claire replied with exaggerated swooning, the back of her hand against her forehead. "Yes please, I'll abuse my position of power for a night with James."
"Such a delicious position too." Both women giggled.
Then Claire sighed. "Why would a handsome man James' age want me anyway? Other than for something casual and short-term of course."
"Would you want anything more than casual and short-term with a boy like James?" Claire's friend asked.
"No, I guess not." Claire replied with the tone and half-hearted smile of someone whose innermost desires didn't match the words they spoke. "Young men are wasted on young women."
"Totally wasted."
The two women at the next table appeared completely oblivious to us listening in on their conversation, and Sally raised her eyebrows and grinned, then leant over the table and whispered to me, "Not all young men are wasted on young women. There was one young man I knew who had a thing with his older boss."
"Oh, really?" Anyone overhearing us would think I was genuinely surprised. "I heard she was his ex-boss at the time."
"Does it matter?" Then Sally grinned. "She totally went for his cock."
"What? Hot older boss taking advantage of innocent, young recently ex-employee?"
Sally smirked. "Nah. I never said anything about anyone being innocent. Your story could give these ladies hope."
"Yeah, nah," I said, laughing loud enough for the two women to pause their conversation and look over to us. "My story's no one else's business but mine and Miranda's."
~0~
12 YEARS AGO...
How many glasses of beer had I downed before switching to Bourbon? Must've been more than four to make me merry enough to switch to the more expensive hard liquor. Five maybe? I looked across to Sally, and for no reason I said, "I can't really afford to be buying Bourbon and Cokes."
She smiled, but cautioned, "You better hit your shots this time or I'm going to find a new team mate."
All I could do was smile, then shift my focus to Luke racking the balls up in the triangle down the other end of the green felt. We'd planned this night for some time, drinking since five in the afternoon, sharing endless games of pool, and now I was a bit more than slightly pissed. Sighting down my cue, lining up the cue ball with apex ball, running the long handle back and forth, testing my drunken aim, I still made a cracking break, potting four balls straight up, three of them bigs.
"Nice break, dude," Luke said, humble to the end, then after I failed to sink another biggie on my second shot, the ball missing the centre-pocket by millimetres, he punished me, sinking most of his and Zoe's smalls, leaving a single one of theirs plus the black eight ball and the rest of ours on the table.