When I peeked through the curtains to see who it was knocking on the door, I chuckled at the sight of Sara Wilson, who turned out to be a woman of her word. Before she left my place a couple of nights ago she had asked me whether she could come back with a friend.
That answer was a definite yes, because for the couple of hours Sara had been there, she made my 58 year old body feel I was 18 again, just like Sara. I hadn't had sex with an 18 year old girl since I was that age myself, and while Sara Wilson was no beauty queen by any stretch of the imagination, being with a girl without the baggage that comes with age was special for me.
***
It had started when she was riding her bicycle past my house and stopped to check out some stuff I had outside and was trying to get rid of. Being newly retired and fresh off of a divorce, I discovered I had a lot of time on my hands and a lot of crap around the house I didn't want or need, so I threw it out in the driveway and hoped to get rid of it, not really caring if the stuff just got bought or stolen.
So enter Sara, who looked vaguely familiar to me. Familiar with the book Sara Plain and Tall? Me neither, but I've seen plenty of students carrying it around over the years, and plain and tall seemed to fit young Sara Wilson to a T. I'm 6'3" and this girl wasn't all that much shorter than me.
As for plain, she wore glasses and her long black hair was pulled back to make her look like the classic image of the stereotypical librarian. It being a warm day she was wearing a baggy t-shirt that revealed little outside of the fact she was skinny and had furry forearms.
Adding to the librarian look, she went over to the table where I had probably over a hundred books stacked up, and as she looked through them I wandered over to chat.
"Hi there," I said cheerfully. "No reasonable offer refused - no unreasonable ones either," I added.
"Oh," the girl said, so engrossed in her browsing that she hadn't notice me approach. "Hi - um... Mr. Bailey."
I looked at her with a quizzical expression, wondering who she was since she seemed to know me but drawing a blank.
"I had you in ninth grade English. Sara. Sara Wilson," she explained.
"Sara!" I said cheerfully, pretending that I actually remembered the girl even though I was drawing a blank.
Thirty five years of teaching thousands of kids, along with a memory that isn't what it used to be, had me at a disadvantage, but the more I looked at her I actually began to recall her. She was just as nondescript back then as she was now, but I did remember her furry forearms along with her sitting in the front row to my far left.
"Of course!" I said, putting my hand on her shoulder and giving the bony joint a squeeze, and when I told her I remember where she sat and even recalling what period I had her in, he seemed happy that I really knew who she was.
I mentioned that I was now retired, and didn't add it was girls like Sara that made the decision easier. Not really like Sara, who was very straight-laced and shy, but the more brazen ones. Every year the clothing got more provocative and the behavior of the kids - most noticeably the girls - got more bold.
I'm a pretty good looking guy for my age, or at least that's what I've been told, and the constant flirting and teasing by these young girls was tough to resist, not to mention having them giving you plenty of looks up skirts without panties. That's gone on for years, even back in the good old days when the girls had hair between their legs, but it has gotten worse in recent years.
It was an invitation for serious trouble, so I got out of the profession with my reputation intact along with a lot of regrets for not being able to take up some of the amazing offers I got from some of these "ladies". Now retired, I was free to squeeze Sara's shoulder without being brought up on charges.
"You know, to be honest at first I didn't recognize you," I admitted, but quickly added, "That's because you've changed so much. You've become quite a lovely young woman."
She blushed at my bullshit but didn't protest at my exaggerating, and after giggling turned an even deeper crimson when she made a confession.
"When I was in your class, I had a major crush on you," Sara admitted, giggling and turning away while adding, "Can't believe I told you that."
"Really?" I said, and even though over the years I've been told that several times, it still excites me. "I'm flattered."
"I was just a goofy kid."
"Maybe, but you had impeccable taste," I said with a laugh, looking down at the parts of her slender legs her shorts and socks revealed. "What was that, four years ago?"
"Yeah. Just graduated."
"Congratulations. Off to college?"
"Yeah. SUNY at Cortland. Thinking about teaching."
"Good for you," I said. "Then you'll have guys coming up to and telling you they had crushes on you back in the day."
"I doubt it," Sara chuckled.
"And you know," I said as I leaned over and lowered my voice even though no one else was there. "While students are sitting out there fantasizing about you, you'll be doing the same thing about them."
"Really?"
"Of course," I admitted. "The trick is not doing anything about it. No law against thought-crime, except in Orwell's 1984."
As we talked, it occurred to me that Sara might be flirting with me, although it was clear that she wasn't used to doing that because she was doing it awkwardly. That was what was getting my interest, the fact that she wasn't used to doing it, and as we spoke Sara Plain and Tall became less plain in my eyes.
I screwed up a bit when I asked about how the Senior Prom was and Sara explained that she didn't go.
"I got asked, but then the guy backed out after he found somebody better looking to go with," Sara said, the big brown eyes looking sad through her glasses.
"Hard to believe that," I said. "His loss. Hey, if I knew you were available I would have taken you."
"Oh gee, can you imagine?" Sara asked.
"I've been to proms before," I said, and it was true. "A girl asked me once a while back and I accepted. Her mother dropped her at the place and picked her up - just so you don't get the wrong idea."
I didn't add that the girl had cerebral palsy and I just felt bad that she wasn't going to get to go if I didn't offer. I scored points around the school if nothing else, but she was such an excellent student that it was a pleasure to do it.
"Aren't you married?" Sara asked innocently, and I showed her my finger with the indentation where the ring used to be.
"Not anymore," I said, adding, "Guess she found somebody better looking to go with too."
She had found a better looking partner, which was the reason we split. I didn't mention the fact that the better looking person was a woman, which made it hurt less for some reason.
"Sorry," Sara said, and she looked like she meant it too.
