Faded Photographs

I had not much else to do with my time since retirement and found myself wandering aimlessly through a nearby mall. It was a late Friday morning in late June, and had been raining off and on for three solid days. I couldn't work in my yard and there's just so much a man of 65 years can, and wants, to do in his house. I wasn't going to buy anything, I just had to get out of that empty house. So here I was, walking in circles from floor to floor, not paying attention to anything in particular. Hey, I was out of the house, and not being rained upon.

I hadn't planned on retiring when I did. I was an executive in an old and prosperous company. Unfortunately, the demand for hand held cameras was not as it once was. The company had to downsize and made offers to those of us approaching retirement that was too lucrative to refuse.

Being unable to tend to my budding flowers in the yard, I found myself here. I meandered into the food court, which would've been more appropriately called, "the teen hangout", to fill the emptiness in my stomach. I ordered a hot dog and a cold drink. What I got didn't resemble any hot dog I was familiar with and bore no resemblance to the photo displayed as advertisement. I didn't expect the food to be comparable to a reputable restaurant, nor did I expect the prices to be either. Christ, I could've bought half a dozen hot dogs at the market for what they charged for this poor excuse for a hot dog. Times . . . they were a changing.

I found an empty table and attempted to consume this imposter of a truly traditional American symbol. I heard a female voice softly call out, "Bert . . . Bert Sisson, is that you?" I turned to acknowledge my name being called out and saw this lovely lady, I'd guess about my age, smiling at me. She looked vaguely familiar, but the young lady sitting next to her was a spitting image of Mitzi Glaser, my steady girlfriend throughout my first three years of college. She was my one and only love back then, and down deep inside, probably still was.

I responded, "Mitzi! God, it's been years. How are you?"

"I'm fine, other than father time taking its toll. Come, come join us," she said, as she beckoned me with her arm. "Come meet my youngest daughter."

"She still had that wonderfully glorious smile that first attracted me to her our Freshman year," I thought to myself, as I grabbed my drink, leaving the other concoction on the table, and joined them. I couldn't get over how much her daughter was an exact clone of her mother when she was that age.

As I sat, Mitzi said, "You left your food at the table."

"You do it a tremendous justice referring to it as food. I'd have chosen another, less complimentary descriptor."

Mitzi laughed, that very same distinct laugh of hers, and said, "I see you still have that same sardonic sense of humor I enjoyed so much."

Hearing that laugh while looking at an exact replica of Mitzi in her youth, I felt as if I had been caught up in some kind of time warp and transported back four decades in time.

Mitzi turned to her daughter, and said, "Kayla, this here is Mr. Sisson . . . Bert," she said, while extending her arm out palm up in Kayla's direction . . . "This is my precious baby, Kayla, who was an unexpected gift late in my life. Bert was my first true love," she informed her daughter.

I put out my hand, and said, "Kayla, pleased to meet you. You look just like your mother did when she was your age . . . very beautiful indeed."

"Thank you. That's very kind of you. Pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Sisson. Mother has mentioned you many times over the years," Kayla pleasantly said in a melodic tone.

"Bert . . . Bert is just fine. I hope your mother only told you nice things about me," I replied, as I smiled and let out a soft polite laugh.

"Mom has always spoken very highly of you," Kayla said, with a reassured smile.

"Bert, what could I possibly say about you that wouldn't be nice?" Mitzi asked, with an inflection of humorous sarcasm and a slight hint of innuendo that only Mitzi and I understood.

I just responded with a look over my eye glasses and a "Humph". We joined in mutual laughter, just like long ago.

A faux smile touched Kayla's lips as she looked at both of us, totally ignorant of the underlying meaning of what was just said, and the laughter it provoked.

After spending a little time catching up, finding out a little about each other's life, post college, I excused myself, exchanged the usual pleasantries, and said, "I must be going now. This was such a pleasant surprise seeing you again after all this time, Mitzi. You have a very beautiful and gracious daughter. You've done well by her, a very precious young lady."

"Thanks, Bert. I'm very proud of both my daughters, but Kayla has always been special to me, coming so late in life. I'm so glad our paths crossed. I've thought of you and our times together often over the years. Oh, before you go, listen . . . why don't you come by our place next Saturday and have dinner with us? It'll be just Kayla and I celebrating her 22nd birthday, and we'd love having you join us. C'mon, it'll be fun and like old times."

"Thank you, but I couldn't impose on such a celebration."

"Imposition? Don't be foolish. You've never been able to say no to me before, please don't start now." She then displayed that pleading helpless little girl look she did so well.

"I can see why Kayla would be special to you," I thought to myself, before agreeing to join them the following Saturday. We exchanged phone numbers, and Mitzi wrote down her address. As I was about to leave, both women stood up. Kayla put her hand out, and said, "It was so nice meeting you. I look forward to seeing you next Saturday," she said, with the most genuine smile a person could possess.

This was my first opportunity to see the entire Kayla. She was not only a stunning woman, she had a figure that would erupt the most dormant volcano. I was frozen, and instantly captivated. I suddenly couldn't wait until the Saturday after tomorrow.

Kayla had the most gorgeous body, which couldn't be hidden by her casual loose summer dress. She had to be 5'9" tall, with the loveliest looking breasts I had seen in a very long time. Although she had a loose dress on, it gave the appearance of hanging off her ass, which looked so firm and wonderfully round. I felt myself becoming a bit aroused. She was the image of her mother in every way. I had to get out of there before I embarrassed myself. I said my goodbye's, then just said, "See you both next weekend," before turning and leaving the food court area.

The image of Kayla would not leave my mind. I found myself wondering what might have been had things worked out differently. I had a multitude of emotions bouncing around in my body: from exhilaration, excitement, and happiness, to remorse, anxiety, and immense sexual arousal.

When I got home, I immediately went up in the attic and searched out an old shoebox I had carried along since my college days. I brought it downstairs and sat on my living room couch. For some reason, I felt a tinge of nervousness which I couldn't quite understand, knowing full well the contents of the box.

With my hands slightly shaking, I opened the box and gently touched and picked up all the memories and souvenirs of days spent together with Mitzi: a ring she always wore, her hair ribbons, tickets from rock concerts we went to. They were all pieces of wonderful memories. I then raised a stack of old photographs tied together with thin string. I untied the string and slowly fingered through the pictures, all of Mitzi, in various positions, and at locations we visited together. They showed her silly moods, her serious moods, and her playful moods. I couldn't believe how this girl in the pictures looked exactly like Kayla in every aspect. "They didn't just resemble each other, they were exact twins," I found myself mumbling.

I came across two pictures of Mitzi, that were much clearer than the others, and for some reason, not as faded. She was wearing a two-piece bathing suit she had just purchased for the upcoming summer. One was a full-frontal pose, and the other was more of a side view of her entire body, emphasizing her youthful, glorious figure. It was a perfect side view of her firm full tits, and her lovely round, firm ass. I knew right away that this was exactly what Kayla looked like dressed in a bathing suit, or without.

I had feelings rushing through my body I hadn't felt in years, and I was brought back to our wonderful love making and how it felt being buried deeply inside this absolutely gorgeous, desirous woman. I found myself imagining that Kayla would give those same euphoric pleasures. I was suddenly horny as hell with a raging hard-on. Without hesitation, I pulled my pants down to my knees and began vigorously masturbating while looking at those old pictures of Mitzi, as visions of Kayla danced in my mind. It didn't take long for me to shoot a rather healthy load. I suddenly realized that I wasn't jerking off looking at Mitzi. In my convoluted mind, I was looking at, and imagining fucking Kayla. It was an amazing fantasy.

After cleaning myself, I carefully placed all my valuable and wonderful memories back in the box and placed it on the end table beside me. My mind was whirling in confusion. I had just experienced the most satisfying, self-manipulated orgasm I've enjoyed in years, and yet, I had this strong feeling that what I just did was inappropriate and improper. The whole event, albeit gratifying, did cause me to feel as if I had been unfaithful to Mitzi which instilled a slight sense of guilt within. Hey, I'm old, and am authorized to feel somewhat confused at times.

The sun had been out for three days now, giving me time to work in my yard and transplant some flowers I had been nurturing all winter in my small greenhouse. I was pleased with how it was shaping up, but my mind was never very far from Kayla's upcoming birthday celebration.

After dinner, I was sitting on my couch and began reflecting back to my college days with Mitzi. It was a wonderful, yet melancholic journey back in time. Much of those three years we dated was vague and hazy in my mind; very much like the faded photographs in the shoebox. The exception was of those special times we spent together, of course. In the small, although separate, towns we grew up in, young unmarried Jewish couples still did not live together, like they might do now. It was just an unaccepted thing we didn't even consider back then.

During our conversation at the food court, the previous Friday, Mitzi had mentioned that the house she had lived with her husband and children had become just too big for her, being divorced, and with one daughter married and on her own now, and Kayla away most of the time at college. She had always missed that small community atmosphere. After discussing it with Kayla, she had decided to move back there. She said that Kayla was all for it and was helpful in finding the home they just purchased. She even helped with the move. They had just been in their new home for less than a month when we ran into each other.

She went on to tell me that, she and Kayla decided to check out the mall seeing it was a rainy day. "And wouldn't you know . . . 'Kismet' brought you there as well," she cheerily said. That was about the time she invited me to her house, for this coming Saturday. She said, "You must come over and see our new home, along with celebrating Kayla's birthday with us." That was typical Mitzi, painting other's in a box, making it difficult, if not impossible, to refuse her.

"She was right! You never could say no to her, but in your youth, you were too naïve to understand why," I said to myself.

I then got up, turned on the local news and got myself a glass of wine. I think after the past few days, I possibly could have consumed an entire winery.

Finally, it was Friday, one more day to go. I was still struggling with what I could get Kayla as a birthday gift. It was a birthday gift for someone I've only met once, and spent less than two hours with and hardly spoke to. As if I didn't have enough to think about without this!

I nervously picked up the phone to call Mitzi to confirm the time she wanted me there. Secretly, I also wanted to hear her voice again. She answered the phone and sounded precisely as she had 40 some odd years ago. I almost melted right there. For a reason I only knew, I stumbled over almost every sentence. We finally got a time confirmed and said goodbye. "Wow!" I said to myself. Once again it was almost like going back in time. I was tingling, with joy throughout my body.

Can you imagine! A man of 65 years getting tingles from hearing a voice?

"You had better pull yourself together, Bert, or you'll make a complete ass of yourself tomorrow," I reminded myself aloud.

I had a hard time falling asleep Friday night, but eventually finally did. I woke up Saturday, made myself a good breakfast, and washed it all down with three cups of coffee. I was hyped up and wired for sound, as some might say. I was still in a quandary regarding a gift for Kayla. I've always found it difficult to buy gifts for people, especially those I hardly knew. I was in the shower when I decided to cut some flowers from my greenhouse and give them as a gift. "Not too over the top, but something most women enjoy getting. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Problem solved," I said, as I was drying off. "Pick up a nice bottle of wine for dinner, doubling as a small house warming gift for Mitzi," I thought.

It was now 1:30 P.M. I headed out to the greenhouse to carefully pick out a nice variety of flowers for Kayla. This would leave me plenty of time to cut the stems just right and get it presentable to give her. I also needed to assure that they were in a sufficient amount of water to prevent any wilting. I cut a piece of Styrofoam and soaked it in water. I them stuck the stems in the waterbed in a professional looking arrangement, and put them in a small box lined with plastic with a hole in the center top. This way it wouldn't tip over on the ride to their house and get my car all wet.

That took longer than I expected and I had just enough time to take another shower, shave, and get all fluffed up by splashing on the same cologne I wore in college for the event. I stopped at a large package store to get a nice bottle of wine and headed off to my long, awaited dinner engagement.

I had no problem finding the house. It was a modest cottage with an attached two car garage and a white picket fence defining its curtilage. "Typical Mitzi. Not over stated, but in good taste," I thought. I gathered the wine and flowers and rang the front doorbell. Mitzi answered the door and looked exquisite, wearing that warm wonderful smile that first attracted me to her. She said, "Hi Bert, come on in." As she closed the door behind me she put her arms around me and gave me a kiss I had missed for so long. She then put her face into my neck, and gave me a soft hug, and said, "Mmm, you're still the best kisser I ever met, and still wearing that cologne I love so much. It's wonderful seeing you again, Bert."

She then looked down at the wine and flowers, and asked, "What's this?"

I handed the bottle of wine to her, and said, "This is just a little house warming welcoming gift for you. It's not a premium wine, but I thought you'd like it."

She took the bottle and looked at the label and began to laugh. She said, "Our favorite wine. Wait till you see what's on the table. That'll explain my laughter." She then looked down and asked, "And the flowers?"

I responded, "It's not polite to come to a birthday party without a gift. These are for Kayla."

"Still the sweet, thoughtful gentleman I knew in school. That is so sweet of you, thank you. Kayla will love them, come on," as she put her free arm around my waist, like she always had, and walked me into the dining room.

She sweetly called out, "Kayla, Bert's here. Come say hello and see what he brought you."

Kayla came out of the kitchen area looking like a model on a runway. She looked absolutely out of this world, and carried herself with such grace and poise. My mind flashed back to the night I went to pick up Mitzi for our first date. Unfair, I know, but that's where my thoughts took me.

I raised the flowers to her and said, "Happy Birthday, Kayla."

She looked at the flowers with a surprised look on her face and a slightly open mouth, and said, "Oh, Mr. Sisson, they're beautiful! Thank you. I've never seen such a lovely arrangement. You didn't have to buy me flowers. That is so sweet of you. And tied with such a beautiful silk ribbon." She came up to me, put her arms around me, and kissed me gently.

She stood in front of me smiling so appreciatively. Once I recovered, I said, "Just call me Bert . . . beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady. I didn't buy them, I grew them in my greenhouse. And, that particular ribbon . . . that was once worn in your mother's hair many years ago."

"You're kidding me! Oh, my goodness! You've actually kept this ribbon all these years? That is so sweet. Mom, did you hear that?"

Mitzi looked at the ribbon, then at Bert. A soft smile kissing her lips, a teardrop forming in her eye as she tenderly said, "Oh, Bert." It was almost as if she was telling me how sorry she was for hurting me more than she could ever have known. She then abruptly said, "Come on, let's get those flowers in a proper vase and sit down for dinner before everything gets cold." She then turned and walked into the dining room. She directed me to a chair and pulled it from the table, and said, "Sit here, Bert, and looked at the bottle of wine on the table. I'm going to get dinner for us."

As I sat, she leaned her face to my ear, and said, "You've always been special to me too." Then she hurriedly went into the kitchen.

Looking at the bottle of wine in the center of the table, I noticed it was the exact same wine I had brought. "Our favorite, and she remembered too. Wow!" I thought to myself. I then called out to Mitzi, "Can I be of any help in there?"

"No thanks, just open the wine and pour us all a goblet. I've got everything under control," she replied.

Mitzi brought the tray of food out and placed on the table, then sat down beside me, and said, "We'll wait for Kayla, I have no idea where she went. Do you now realize why I laughed when you gave me the wine?"

"Yes. You remembered too," I softly replied. "It was a wonderful three years, wasn't it?" I asked.

"Yes, it was . . . the best," she said, as she kissed my cheek lightly and raised her glass.

I touched her glass with mine, our eyes not leaving each other's, and sipped our wine.

Just then, Kayla entered the room and placed the flowers, now in a vase, in the center of the table.

I looked up at her and exclaimed, "Oh, my God! I feel as if I've stepped back in time."

Kayla was wearing the ribbon in her hair just like Mitzi always wore her ribbons.

I looked at Mitzi, and said, "She looks exactly like you did when you were that age. It's uncanny!"

"She's seen pictures of me during our own college days. She is a lot like me in many ways. So much so, it even scares me at times. Now you might understand why she is special to me. If you get to experience and see enough of her, it might scare you too," she said.

Mitzi raised her glass towards Kayla, and said, "Happy Birthday, Baby."

I did the same, and said, "Yes, Happy Birthday, sweet, lovely lady."

Kayla raised her glass, as all three came together, and said, "Thank you both. For some strange reason, I'm sensing this may be one of my best birthday's, if not the best."

After each sipped our wine, Mitzi took control and said, "This is lovely, but the food is getting cold."

Both Kayla and I immediately looked at each other, as if we were two children just being commanded by a parent to do a specific thing, and immediately complied.