I had finished getting dressed for the evening. I loved dressing up for evenings in the fabulous cocktail lounge bar at the hotel. Alex loved seeing me in dresses that suited my figure. So, I wore a short red cocktail dress, one that just covered my bottom. My legs were freshly smooth and moisturised so they were silky and shiny. The dress had a naughty cleavage that plunged almost to my belly button. With my small boobs, it created a sexy look, but wasn't especially trashy. I wore my hair up in a tight ballerina bun. Something I had done a million times. It pulled on my forehead and took away all the lines on my face. There weren't many, I was lucky, but Alex thought I would easily pass for forty. That was good enough.
Dinner was the usual mix of lovely food and laughter. Alex and I could laugh at almost anything. His gorgeous face would light up at the same things that made me smile. It was powerfully sexy. He could not take his eyes off me, that made me so confident. Across from him was his sixty-year-old lover, still slim, I had a tiny waist, long dancer-toned legs and my grey hair tied up to show off my face. I had been described as the poster girl of Team GB in 1984, my young face was on many of the television broadcasts. I was gorgeous back then. But I'm older now. Alex thinks I am stunningly beautiful, and I have come to terms with my age, my insecurities and inhibitions. I am at my happiest when I'm naked, making passionate love to this young man and his beautiful body. Alex is thirty-six years younger than me, and until tonight, it had not been such a big deal. Until we went into the bar that evening.
We found a table in the middle of the lower level, near the bar and slightly quieter, so we could talk. We were probably going dancing later, Alex loved showing me off on the dance floor. For most of my life, I had been paid to dance classical ballet. But that training, that discipline hard wired into my body also meant I could dance anything and everything, including modern street styles. I loved dancing and loved being with Alex.
And then she walked in. The same girl we had seen at breakfast. She was tall, slim and model beautiful. Brunette hair and long, lovely legs. Someday I knew this was going to happen. I had a sense that she was going to be the one. There was just something about her. Actually, she seemed to be perfect.
I'd already resigned to this, to the stark reality of losing Alex to a young body, a woman who could give him the things I could not. A long future of happiness and a family, which I know he would want one day. I needed to feel in control of that moment, not someday finding out in a hurtful, or undignified affair.
"There's the girl from breakfast, the one who could not take her eyes off of your body, even though you were wearing those ridiculous flip flops."
"It is. I'm curious as to why you mention her?"
"She is very sexy, just your type Alex."
"Hmm. I'm on holiday with the most beautiful, smart, funny, sexy and incredible woman I have ever known. That's surely enough, isn't it?"
I didn't reply. He was quite the most beautiful man that has ever been in my life. He was sincere and I knew that is how he really felt about me. I was the one working myself up about a random girl who quite naturally admired an attractive man. I decided to let it pass. I was going to ruin a lovely evening, over absolutely nothing.
Alex went to the bar to refresh our drinks. I always liked to see him move across a room. He was so tall and masculine, toned and athletic. It made me a little aroused just seeing him walk. My body was still full of his thick, gorgeous sperm after this morning's lovemaking, and I still had the sensation of his huge penis inside me, even after all these hours had passed. He was big, filling me completely and stretching my vagina to its limit. How could I not desire him forever?
The girl was also at the bar. Alex seemed to deliberately avoid her, perhaps consciously telling me that he was not interested in a conversation with her. But she moved along to speak with him. Just a conversation, nothing more. Seeing the two of them together, I realised, had seemed natural and perfect. I smiled to myself. A nervous smile, borne from a new sensation of sadness inside. A confirmation of the strange feelings that I had growing inside that Alex and I had no long-term future.
After a few minutes he returned, with fresh drinks and a beaming smile on his face. I was not a jealous woman, I really am not, and so did not ask him the topic of conversation. That would come across as jealous, because in reality, I was quite comfortable for him to have a conversation without interrogation from me.
So, in due course, we finished our drinks and left for the club. The night spot was right on the beach and it was perfect for dancing until the early hours, which we fully intended to do. Neither of us are particularly big drinkers, we much preferred dancing our way through the night. He loved seeing everyone watching me dance and he always kissed me on the dancefloor, whenever our faces came close together.
As I sat down at our table, I felt someone coming behind me. It wasn't Alex, it was a much lighter footstep.
"Excuse me. I'm so sorry to bother you. I feel I should apologise to you for my behaviour earlier."
"Apologise? You've no reason to apologise?"
"Well, I'm sorry, I thought you were, well I mean, I didn't know that your, er, husband was, well your partner. I'm sorry."
"Ah, you mean you thought I was his mother, not his girlfriend?"
She lowered her head. It was obviously excruciatingly embarrassing for her, and I really wanted her to stop worrying.
"Don't be silly. I'm over thirty years older than Alex. Of course, you would think I am his mum. I'm older than his actual mother, so you're forgiven. Completely and totally forgiven. Here, come and sit down."
"Oh, thank you. Well, anyway, I am sorry. He is your boyfriend and he is clearly totally in love with you. I really meant no offence. You look incredible, by the way. If I may say, you are a very stunning lady. I'm envious of your legs and you move with such incredible grace. Can I perhaps buy you a glass of wine?"
"Yes, perfect! Why not. But what makes you say that Alex is in love with me?"
"Well, in the hotel I asked him if he wanted to come out dancing here with me tonight, you know, just us two. He told me that he was here on holiday and whilst he was very flattered to be asked, he was completely in love with you. I'm so sorry. I'm Charlotte, by the way."
"Hi. And I'm Helen. Alex is a wonderful man for sure. But I'm guessing you find him attractive then? He is rather lovely."
"Well yes, he is gorgeous. You are very lucky. Well, no not lucky, you are stunningly attractive. Sorry. I'm really putting my foot in it, aren't I?
"Not at all, here, you sit and I will go and get some wine. Don't move from that spot Charlotte."
I caught up with Alex at the bar. He was still waiting to be served. He is tall, but far too polite. He just stood there, waving his euros.
"Let me try, my love. We will need a bottle; we have a guest at our table."
"A what?" Alex looked around at our table. He saw Charlotte sitting, still looking a bit embarrassed and sheepish.
"A guest. Her name is Charlotte and she said sorry for trying to tear you away from me."
