Authors Note: This is my fourteenth story and its pure fiction written at the request of an online friend is who far older than me and wished a young woman’s perspective on older men. I call the main Character Mr. Anderson because I went in search of an older man I felt attracted to and turned on by and came up with Richard Dean Anderson.
As always, comments are always more than welcome and please take a look at my other stories!
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I worked as the front desk clerk at the local Super 8 Motel. It was 4 in the morning on Saturday so we were almost all full. My boyfriend, Mitch, had stopped in to see me and we’d ended up having a huge fight.
Just as he was storming out the door and calling me a bitch a couple came in. The man was tall, close to about 6’5” and lean, but strong. I could see the muscles moving in his arms and shoulders and he held the door open and carried 2 duffle bags on each arm. He had a strong, handsome face with a light dusting of facial hair which suggested that he shaved every morning. He looked like he was somewhere in his 40’s but was still a very attractive man. He had light brown hair cut very short with a few little specks of grey showing and was wearing a pair of dark blue slacks which fit very nicely from the back and a black t-shirt, a black blazer was slung over one of the bags he was carrying.
The woman was much younger, she looked like she was in her late 20’s, putting her just a few years above me. She had long blonde hair, very blue eyes which held very little and a dress which held very little. She had very large breast which all but overflowed out of the top of the black tube dress she was wearing. The dress also barely covered her panties, assuming she was wearing any, if she wasn’t I really didn’t want to know. She wore black heals about 4 inches high, which put her at about the same height as me, 5’9”.
I smiled to the couple and did up the paperwork for a single bed room for Mr. Scott Anderson with anger still ripe in my voice. I was snappy an inpatient with the couple as the man tried to carry all the bags and reach for his wallet and the woman stood in the corner looking as though there weren’t a coherent thought in her head.
Finally I had there room all set up and gave them the key and off they went up the stairs.
I was working until 8 in the morning. Around 6 the woman came down the stairs, smiled at me, called a cab and went outside to wait. I did work in a motel; I knew what that meant, what the woman was. It made me think less of Mr. Anderson.
After she’d left the man came downstairs. “Excuse me miss, what time does the restaurant open for breakfast?” he asked in that strong, deep voice of his.
“Just after 7 sir” I said, my tone still a little icy from the fight with Mitch.
“Thank you.” He said, then hesitated, as if he wanted to ask something else, “I know it’s none of my business, but that man who stormed out of here as I was coming in, is he the reason you seem so irritable or have I done something to offend you?”
I sighed, I was tired from the fight with Mitch and didn’t feel like explaining myself to a complete stranger, I was a desk clerk not a bartender. “The guy who left was my boyfriend, we’d had a fight. That’s why I was peevish when you first came in. Now I’m still upset about that and think a lot less of you for brining a whore with you to the hotel. Have a good night” I said and turned around to finish some of my filing.
I’d assumed Mr. Anderson had gone back up to his room, but when I bent down to open the lower cabinet I heard a small noise behind me. I turned around to find Mr. Anderson leaning against the counter staring at me intently. Before I could say anything he said, “She wasn’t a whore. She’s the daughter of an old business associate of mine. I’ve known her since she was 16. She’s a very sweet girl. She’s also from an abusive family. She ran away from home when she was 18 and I found her on the streets in Toronto hustling. I got her off the streets, gave her a job as my secretary and since then have helped her make a decent life for herself. We have dated on and off from time to time and when I’m in town I occasionally meet up with her to rekindle a bit of an old flame. I have never and would never pay for sex.”
I stood there not knowing what to say to his little story. I didn’t know if I believed it or not, but I couldn’t argue it since I had no proof, I’d never seen the woman before so for all I know he could have been telling the truth.
“She’s a little young for you isn’t she?” I asked with venom in my voice.
“Some people would say so. That man who stormed out of here looked a little old for you though.” He replied with a small grin on his face.
“I’m 23; he’s 30, only 7 years difference.” I said, though why I felt I had to validate my relationship to a stranger I didn’t know.
“Well, that young lady was 29. How old do you think I am?” he asked with that little grin on his face again.
I looked at him again, really looked at him, “Probably in your late forties” I said.
He smiled at me, “Close. I am 52”
I didn’t know what to say. “Well sir, your love life is none of my business, nor is mine any of yours. I’m sorry I accused you. Now if you’ll excusive, I have work to do.” I said, trying not to insult a patron and have my boss find out. I turned around again to go back to my filing and heard him make a small, “hmm” kind of noise as I bent to continue my filing. I turned around again, “Is there something I can help you with sir?” I asked my voice stiff.
He grinned again; a grin full of things unsaid, of things done in a dark room behind a locked door and said, “No, just watching you work. Good night my dear.” And with that he turned and went to the elevators.
I got home after my shift and went directly to bed. I was so tired. I hated working the graveyard shifts at work, but someone had to and no one else was willing to do it.