There are limitations and opportunities connected to being an attractive older woman. The attractive men my age are generally interested in women half my age. Men half my age are attracted to me, but they're so immature and inexperienced. Sure, a youngster who gets off quickly and gets up again very quickly is great. But an older man who takes his time is usually far more exciting. What's a woman to do? Well, when the Moen multi-directional six nozzle shower head fails to satisfy, it's time to cruise for fast food.
I've always been interested in current music trends. Sure, it's probably not dignified of me, but I confess to loving Korn, Staind, and Nickelback. Can't help it. This interest, however, has gotten me laid by some pretty amazing looking young men. The upcoming weekend would find me in the city's most popular live band venue unless something better presented itself before tomorrow night.
You'd think that as a university professor I'd have plenty of chances to diddle the best looking students. However, that's the easiest way for a female professor to get fired. Male professors got by with it everyday, but the only female at my institution who'd been caught had been strung up, run out of town, and effectively blocked from ever teaching anywhere in the United States again. Sucks, eh? Last time I heard, she was at some third rate college in Formosa, for Chrissakes. Not that there's anything wrong with Formosa; it's just that she shouldn't be there for fuckin' a willing man. He WAS a man. I think at twenty years old he should be able to choose partners. He certainly didn't complain. He even showed up at the university hearing to plead her case. She got Formosa anyway. I asked her if he was worth it. She said it was good, but not good enough to lose your job over. Oh, well. Lesson learned for me, though. I don't do students.
Former students, however, are a different story. Or, at least that's how the weekend turned out. I remember the first time I ever saw Joseph. I walked into the classroom, placed my briefcase on the lectern, and looked up to survey this latest Tuesday-Thursday morning crop. There he was. Gorgeous. Blond. Blue eyes. Relaxed but powerful body. It was not long before I learned from a personal essay that he was a wrestler. No, not one of those television wrestlers. A real one. He'd been into wrestling since he was eleven. He and his mom were the only family-father left when he was seven. Nice, clean-cut Catholic altar boy type. He had no idea how attractive he was. He'd spent years, it turned out, feeling insecure and guilty because of his father's desertion. Of course, it had nothing to do with Joseph, but he didn't yet understand this. He was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school. He was at university on an athletic scholarship. He had no trouble keeping up his grades to retain the scholarship status. He was very bright, and he told me that he didn't know what he wanted to do, but that he knew he wanted to be happy in life. Good start. So many eighteen year olds want to be rich, not happy. Stupid cows.
Well, it was two years later than the first time I saw Joseph when I saw him again. I was surprised to see him that Friday evening when I made my way from the middle of the crowd at Ships, one of the local live band clubs, towards the bar. He apparently had seen me first because when I first caught a glimpse of him, he was headed straight for me and his eyes were locked on my face. There he was. Within arms' length. Lookin' good. He was in white-a white t-shirt, white carpenter pants. He was tanned and toned. The blond hair was long, down to his shoulders, and he had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. In a word, he was gorgeous.
"Hi, Doc," Joseph screamed over the crowd noise.
The band was between sets, and the speakers blasted out techno fare.
"Joseph. How wonderful to see you. You look wonderful. How are you? Home from school for the summer?"
I knew he had transferred to an out of state university with a better wrestling program.
"Yeah," he replied. "You look incredible. What are you doin' HERE?"
His accent on the word 'here' told me that he was surprised that the old prof would be enjoying a concert by the local hot band.
"I love the Tricks. I think their music and lyrics are great. Their lead singer was one of my students several years ago. He hated poetry at the beginning of the semester, but he loved it after a few weeks. He always had a flair with metaphor. You can tell by the lyrics of Tricks' songs, can't you?"
"Sure. Whatever you say, Doc. I really never thought about it."
Joseph was a math major. He did what was expected of him in English classes, but math spoke to him much more eloquently than Shakespeare.
He continued. "It's so loud. And so good to see you. Can we get out of here for a minute so I can talk to you?"
"Sure," I said. I grabbed his hand and we headed to the door.
When we emerged onto the well lit street outside, I looked him over again. Yep. Gorgeous. My juices were already flowing. Sticky panties.