This was my time, I decided. I always had to look good for him, so I stayed in shape. At 59, I regularly heard that I looked much younger, and that was always a welcome compliment. I mean, I feel younger than 59. I think of my mom at 59 and she was in housecoats, or frumpy bland clothes. I preferred vibrant colors, current trends.
He had lost interest, and had a babe on the side, I was sure. The kids were gone. They were grown, and I began working out, just toning up. Lost 15 pounds.
I went for tanning, just enough for a glow, not those leather tans. Got new swimwear, not bikinis, I'm not crazy: Even if I look good for 59, that means I look in my forties, not twenties! No bikinis, just suits that followed my natural curves.
I'm tall, 5'10, with my natural breasts, just tucked a bit to avoid a bad sag. At 36C, many women swear they aren't originals, but who cares.
My hair is colored, but whose isn't? Brown, shoulder-length, with highlights almost blonde, I looked in the mirror as I packed. A little makeup and not too shabby, I thought.
Some ladies from the club convinced me that a three-day cruise would be fun. They had a package deal, what with one of them a travel agent. It was mid-week, off season, and we'd share cabins, get pampered at the spa, lounge by the pool, drink, eat, and dance. And flirt with the International crew members!
There were 8 of us, all close in age, and the limo driver came in for me with Mags close behind.
"Bad news, Honey, Kimmie can't make it, another anxiety attack! Apparently George filled her with the Guilts about something!"
That meant I didn't have a cabin mate. Before I could say anything, Mags went on. "But Geena said it's no problem. If you don't mind your own room."
Perfect! I wasn't thrilled with cramming into one of those tiny cabins with another woman!
On board, we all unpacked, met for cocktails, each showing off new outfits, or hair style, or bling. Women my age are as catty as 12 year olds, but we all made nice-nice. We dressed for dinner, not formal the first night, mostly pants-suits, running clothes, very casual.
Dinner was your usual bland cruise food, but the wine was flowing, and the chatter provided many stares from other diners.
Afterwards we went dancing, these Cougars on the prowl, the Magnificent Seven! Men approached cautiously, intimidated by our number, but little by little we separated, dancing, some moving to other parts of the ship for privacy. It was "What happens here, stays here" for the married ones.
I was getting a refill at the bar when two young men came over, one obviously the bolder of the two. "Hi," he yelled over the music. "You and your friends really like to shake it, huh?"
He had one of these Cheshire Cat grins, which immediately turned me off. "Yes, it's good exercise." He was high twenties, good-looking, but he knew it. I hated that type.
"You know what else is good exercise?" the lecher said. "The Horizontal Mambo!"
"His friend on my left yelled across, "Hey, Dick, watch your mouth, huh?"
He leered, I"m just bein' friendly."
"No, you're being rude, let's go, man."
I smiled evilly back at him, "Yeah, Dick, go away."
He was angry, but figured there were other fish to fry, and moved away, his friend saying as he left, "Sorry." He was the same age, nice gentle brown eyes, thin beard, bushy brown hair, and my height with my heels, so about 6'2.
I smiled, and said thanks. Back with the few girls left and Mags wanted to know if those two had hit on me. I looked over and Dick was assaulting a 30 something, probably with the same line. His friend stood at the bar, looking over at me, then looking away when our eyes met.
Mags wanted to dance, and the music pulsed. I looked again, and Dick was gone, but his Buddy was still there, alone.
The DJ said, "We're gonna slow it down now a bit," and a ballad came on as we moved to the table. Buddy intercepted me.
"I can only do the slow ones? Want to?"
What the hell. I took his hand and we moved together, keeping it respectable. After all, I had him by at least 25 years.
"So, what happened to Dick?"
