I don't remember where the party was. I don't even remember who invited me, or who was throwing it. But I do remember Her -- Sally -- my first "older woman."
It was some sort of a hippieish party where most of us were on the younger side. I walked into the kitchen and right into Sally's Laugh. It struck me in the face, and then the rest of her stuck me as well.
She was this small faery-looking like creature with a gorgeous brunette mop of hair, going every which way in curls that a twenty-something might be trying to tame. She was talking to a couple of other people there, but quite frankly, the only one I really saw was Her.
She paused in the conversation, and then she looked in my direction.
She was extremely cute, and although some part of me knew she wasn't in her twenties but was older, she didn't feel older. She felt like she was seventeen, with the energy of a teenager (even though I found out she was forty-two).
I found myself in front of her, and told her my name. "Hi, I'm Sally," she said, with a giggle, and then bit her lower lip. God, was I ever taken.
"You wanna get out of here?" I asked her, hoping that all the signs were pointing to a 'Yes.'
She kind of swayed a little from side to side, as if she were trying to decide, even though I could see in her eyes there was really no hesitation. "Gee, I dunno. What did you have in mind?" she asked, as she giggled again.
After talking to her for another ten minutes, I found out that she was recently divorced. Her husband of twenty years had found another "more suitable" woman (one who didn't seem so young -- the reverse of what most guys leave their forty-something wives for).
I also found out that this elvish sprite of a woman had had two children (although when I first saw her body in the light of day, I almost couldn't tell that had been the case). She was on the short side, and also the slender side as well.