It wasn't the pain that bothered Hart, nor was it the strange numbness he felt in his fingers and toes, it was the odd sense of loss that pulsed through his body that saddened him. So ironic that just as he seemed reborn into life, it could change so quickly. It was like this when his wife died several years ago, a contentment, a satisfaction with day to day life was interrupted with details, a funeral and then the loneliness.
Eventually he learned to exist in solitude, walking the damp cobblestone streets between the factory and his house without gazing beyond the dim street lights, stepping into the street to avoid the gatherings of people in front of the pubs. In the winter he endured the freezing rain while in summer he suffered the stench of the alleys, complacently accepting his gray existence, preparing himself for the eventual decline. But, just as he convinced himself he'd never know light again he met Jocelyn, a strange and very young rainbow in his dank, sepia world.
They'd met one day when Hart tried to slip around the perimeter of a crowd outside a noisy pub only to be slammed with a taxi door as the slender woman stepped up onto the curb. Not initially noticing him, she was about to head inside when she saw him slump against the car, his knee aching badly.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you alright?"
Speaking slowly as he regained his composure, Hart said, "No, no, it's my fault, I was rushing around the crowd."
"But you're limping, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, I'll be okay," he replied, trying to walk normally.
"Look, let me buy you a drink. You can sit down and rest your knee a bit," she said, acting sincere.
"No, it's quite alright, besides a pretty young lady like yourself doesn't need to waste her time with someone like me."
"Nonsense, I should have been more careful, at least come inside until we're sure your leg will be okay. Besides, you are a gentleman, none of the guys in here are half the man you are," she said, nodding at a couple of the guys ogling her.
"It's just seems so noisy in there," Hart replied.
Hooking her arm though his, she nodded toward another door a short ways away saying, "Look, there's another place, it's a lot quieter. Would you go in there?"
Slowly limping alongside of her, Hart nodded, "Okay, but just one, it's been a while since I've had anything to drink."
"We'll take it slow then," she replied, tossing her head back and letting her short blond hair with bright red streaks flop back off her forehead. "I'm Jocelyn, by the way."
"And I'm Hart," he said, surprised when she acted as if she knew his name. He was about to say something to her about it when they stepped into the bar and she sat down at the table. It seemed so strange being with her, her light colored clothes, with her spectacular blonde and fiery red hair was so different from him in his gray pants and jacket. As she sat down he caught a glimpse down the front of her blouse, seeing nearly all of her small breasts. He ordered a beer, reminding himself Jocelyn, such a pretty name: Jocelyn, said they'd take it slow.
They didn't take it slow and after only a few drinks, she had taken him back to her apartment and for the first time since his wife died he touched a woman. With the pain in his knee she had him relax on her couch as she climbed over him. He cupped her tiny breasts in his hands as she lowered herself on him, slowly taking all of him into her wet cunt. She enveloped his cock in a wet softness he hadn't felt in years and as she just began to move up and down on him he squeezed her breasts hard and came, spurting his warm cum deep inside her.
