One Spoon or Two?

I didn't even mean to be on that website. Honestly.

OK, so I was on a sex story site, and I did click on the picture of the attractive blonde teen, and I didn't close the pop-up. But it wasn't my fault that the first ad that came up said "Young woman, sexy as hell, seeks older man for mutually rewarding relationship."

See, I'm a sucker for words with more than two syllables; I figure it means that the person writing or speaking might actually have something in common with me. And 'sexy as hell' can't be a bad thing, right?

So I clicked on the profile. User 0612, age 22, height 5'4, within 5 miles of your location. To know any more, send a message.

Of course I'd always wondered what I'd say. 'User 1804, 1960s vintage, everything in fair working order, will do almost anything for a sexy smile.' Send.

I was surprised how quickly the response came. 'Anything? Love to meet. Tomorrow?'

'Sure. Where?'

'The hotel by the supermarket on the ring road, let's have dinner. Book a room.'

'Can't wait. 3. 8 p.m.?'

'Sure. Xx'

With trembling fingers I opened a new tab, googled the hotel website, tapped in my credit card.

Now that it was done, I started to wonder what I was getting into. But 'sexy as hell, love to meet, Xx' fed my anticipation and I let my mind speculate, fantasise. Maybe blonde, bubbly, curvy, blue eyes fixed on mine...

Or brunette, less flashy, even petite, but passionate, looking back at me over her shoulder...

I shook my head. Twenty-four hours and I'd know. I got ready for bed, turned out the light, closed my eyes. All too soon my alarm was beeping, and I went through the usual routine of showering, dressing, leaving for work. The office was the same as always, and I managed - I hope I managed - to keep the anticipation out of my face. No-one asked about my plans for the evening - a good thing, considering what a terrible liar I am.

Finally the clock ticked past six, and I left the office with the usual formulaic goodbye. One detour on the way home - to the cashpoint - and I had an hour or so to get ready. I showered, shaved, dithered over aftershave but finally dabbed some here and there. Clothes - god, what does a man in his fifties wear to meet someone thirty years his junior? Wouldn't be a problem if it was a business meeting, but dinner and the definite possibility of more...?

Ah well. Smart jeans, dark shirt, work shoes. She can think what she likes. Maybe she'll want to tell me what to wear next time.

Next time? God, I hope so.

To the hotel - twenty minutes early. A drink from the bar, orange juice - I want my wits about me, and I'm nervous enough about - well, you know - without factoring too much alcohol into the equation.

Eight ticks by, and I really wonder if she'll come.

Then the door opens, and something in me just knows.

Not blonde, or brunette. Vibrant blue, would you believe, but the height is spot on. And sexy as hell, depend on it. Short black dress, heels, and her figure - I forget to breathe. Slender; gorgeous legs; and further up... well, let's just say curvy in all the best places.

"Hi," she greets me. "I'm Amy."

"Tim."

She leans over, a quick kiss on my cheek but it's game over for me. Scent I could live or die in, soft lips, hair just brushing my skin, then she moves back leaving me scattered to the four winds.

I pull myself together as best I can. "Hungry?"

"Mm-hm. They do a great vegetarian pizza here."

We walk to the restaurant, get seated, give our orders - I can take a hint; veggie pizza for both of us, garlic bread to share, a bottle of rioja.

"So what do you do, Tim?"

"Mid-level manager," I shrug. "Has some interesting moments."

"And outside work? Family?"

I shook my head. "On my own, not particularly by choice, long story."

"Tell me one day," she nodded.

"How about you?" I queried.

"Finished school, would have done uni but family stuff got in the way. I work now, programming."

I forced myself not to jump in, do the nerd thing - 'Oh, I did that'. Yeah, back in the 80's, does anyone even speak Pascal any more?

We finished our food, and Amy drained her glass - 'I brought us a treat, for when we're in the room'. I settled the bill, and she linked her arm through mine with a raised eyebrow as we left the restaurant. Into the lift, and as the doors shut leaving us alone she flowed against me, lips on mine. And something utterly new - her upper lip pierced, the stud touching me as she deepened the kiss then suddenly broke away as the lift stopped.

She took the keycard from my fingers, glancing back as she walked along the carpeted corridor, smiling at the effect the sway of her hips was having.

The door closed behind us, and she put her bag on the table, taking out a dark bottle and two glasses. "My favourite."

I sipped at the clear liquid she poured. "Mm. But just the one for me."

Amy chuckled. "I know. But trust me, you'll be fine."

She knelt on the bed, facing the window, and looked over her shoulder at me, watching my face as she teasingly lifted the hem of her dress with her fingers. My head span a little - not just from wine and liqueur - as I drank in the bare skin above her stocking tops, and then the lacy panties just concealing her most intimate place between soft white cheeks. "Oh god, Amy."

She grinned. "I guess you like what you see. Just one thing first - you brought something for me?"

I swallowed nervously. I'd agonised over this, not wanting to offend with too little, trying not to overset expectation with too much. I fished out the envelope, and Amy took it, glancing inside. "You're very sweet," she smiled, pushing the envelope into her bag. "Next time you could bring me a present, too - I love shiny things."

Her dress still lifted, her fingers caressed her bottom, and - oh my goodness - explored between, fingertips brushing her panties. Her other hand caressing one breast, and she breathed in deeply, eyes half closed. "Come a little closer..."

I complied, standing by the bed, near enough to feel her warmth. "Dress isn't needed any more," she hinted, and I reached out hesitantly to the zip, drawing the fastener down, down, the whiteness of her back interrupted only by her bra.

She let the dress slide from her, then stretched arms behind to wrap around my neck, our bodies touching for the first time. I tentatively slid my palms around her waist, feeling silky skin, a hint of fine hair from her navel downwards. Then my hands moved up to cup soft fullness, hard points pressing into my palms through the lace. "Mm, squeeze them," Amy breathed, and I gently caressed, then dared to brush both nipples, evoking a gasp of pleasure. "Oh yes."