Author's Notes: This story represents my first finished attempt to write a longer sex focused story with identifiable, unique characters as opposed to the more general approach of my previous stories. You can probably imagine that putting it up leaves me both excited and a little intimidated. As always I really appreciate feedback both positive and negative but especially constructive.
I'd also like to profusely thank Estragon who helped me with many of the details of the story. Ultimately, he didn't think this final draft was something he wanted to attach his name to, but anyone who has read my unedited writing (like this note) and then the story will understand that he was a profound influence for good on me. So thank you Estragon for your support, patience and wisdom. Even if this story is not up to your standards, it's MUCH better for your involvement.
***
Domenico "Dom" Delpuerto lived with the kind of ersatz grandiosity that seemed to be the birthright of Italian men. His patterned button down shirts didn't come close to enclosing his neck until well into the autumnal months leaving a broad swath of his tanned chest proudly on display. A gold chain hanging around his neck in case anyone's eyes should fail to be drawn to his built up pectoral muscles. His salt and pepper hair wasn't too long, but it had an anarchic poof that made it seem ready to explode out even farther, especially when his thick lips pulled back in a wild grin and his crow's feet somehow made his blue eyes sparkle brighter rather than making him seem old.
In Dom's case the book matched the cover exactly. His personality was like his hair, mercurially living at the very edge of the acceptable, always poking and probing for its chance to burst out. He married three times before he figured out that the kind of woman he could love enough to marry was the kind of woman who was as unsuited to settling down as him. He still thought fondly of each of his exes, at least enough for the occasional casual communication.
After accepting that he'd never do his mother's memory the honor of marrying for good he embraced all the epicurean pleasures. Granted, at his age the best fish in the sea had been largely snatched up, but there were still some real winners out there, and as a purveyor of art he appreciated the beauty of younger women like a museum display: look but don't touch!
Julie Chang made it very easy to look. The young med student had moved into the house next door with three other girls who attended the nearby university. Dom thanked his lucky stars every day since. Julie and her housemate Vasha, were serious runners and as spring started to make the air muggier their already light running clothes became downright scant.
Today Julie wore a gray Harvard tank top she had picked up while college hunting, pale green bra straps on her shoulders, a pair of red running shorts that didn't really hide much of her long legs, and sneakers. Her mid-shoulder length dark hair was tied back from her face, and little rivulets of sweat trickled down her body as she tilted her head back and squirted some water from her bottle into her mouth.
The flower bed that Dom was tending was quite pretty. They were not what he was looking at. Julie ambled to the side of her house and proceeded to stretch, bracing against the wall balance. As he furtively studied the curve of her golden tanned thigh Dom hoped that Johnson had earned a special place in heaven for the Immigration Act of 1965. He'd never had a chance with an Asian of any variety and watching the succulent Chinese runner come down off her athletic high made him wish he was 20 years younger.
"Looks like you had quite the run," he said casually, taking a break from his plants to lean over the railing at the edge of his porch garden. She turned to him, grinning, hands on her hips, firm, pear-sized breasts rising and falling with each heavy breath. Her sweat made the thin material of the tank top cling to her body in a way Dom was careful not to appreciate too much.
"Yeah, well, you know we'll see how long the good weather holds. Gotta enjoy it while I can!" As she spoke she had a sloppy grin spread across her face, and as much as Dom loved bodies there was nothing like the way the right kind of girl's face lit up when she smiled.
"Heh, at my age I worry about more than the weather lasting."
"Whatever, I'm sure you'll bury us all," Julie said, cocking her head with a sparkle in her exotic brown eyes.
"And is that your expert opinion, Dr. Chang?" Dom retorted, hunching forward a bit as he answered her grin with a grin of his own. He might be too old to do anything, but he'd be damned if he was too old to enjoy flirting with a pretty young thing.
"Hm, well not until your insurance forks over some money and you wait 40 minutes to see me."
"That's the first thing they teach you in med school, isn't it?"
"First and only!"
Dom chuckled as he considered the cheeky young woman. He hadn't really had that much interaction with his neighbors, certainly not like the old days when living on a block meant being part of a community. Mostly it had been just reflexive pleasantries, but he really did like Julie. She had a spark in her that he remembered having himself, and being around it was like old times again. He felt an impulse, and he'd never been one to fight his impulses.
"In lieu of insurance, how about a drink? I've got a great merlot and they say I'm an alcoholic if I drink it alone."
Julie was a bit startled by the proposal. She'd had a few brief exchanges with Dom before, but it had mostly been perfunctory chatter by the numbers. They lived in different worlds and the sudden invitation broke their settled rhythm.
"Maybe later," she said, carefully hedging her words. "Right now, you know, I'm all gross from running."
"Sure, sure, wine just gets better with age."
As he watched Julie head into her house, the smile on Dom's lips felt disjointed and awkward. There was a time when he would have shrugged off a declined invitation, but the look on her face when he'd asked was a painful reminder that he was past the age when he could just be out there on the prowl. Glumly, he turned his attention back to his flowers.
***
The invitation stayed in Julie's head as she took her shower. The mindless routine of scrubbing down did nothing to distract her from it. She hadn't meant anything personal by declining his offer, but she could see in his face that he had felt it was personal. Julie had never been as good at mixing it up as she wanted. Her instinct was to follow her routine and let things take their course. She'd been working on that instinct ever since it had left her alone and depressed as a freshman in college, separated from the friendships she'd spent years nursing.
So what if Domenico wasn't the kind of person she normally hung out with? Or was expected to hang out with? He was charming, they meshed well, and as neighbors they certainly saw each other enough to be social.
Although it still hadn't clicked in her head by the time Julie had wrapped herself in a towel, she had subconsciously resolved to take Dom up on his offer. When she reached her closet to get dressed the decision had percolated into her conscious mind and she knew she was dressing for a visit.
Julie's fashion sense had always run toward the bland and practical, so if she wasn't going out clubbing (and she generally wasn't) it was easy to pick out an outfit. Given the increasingly summery weather she opted for an eggshell halter and a thin, ruffled, oak brown skirt that hung loosely around her knees and a pair of tan flip flops. She got her hair back with a black scrunchy, grabbed her bag and was out the door.
As she crossed the brief green space between the houses the strangeness of the rendezvous threatened to give Julie cold feet. She barely knew the guy and he was at least old enough to be her father. But it was just a social call for some drinks, right? A neighborly thing.
