I am a mature bi woman. I hope you enjoy my stories and comment on what you liked and perhaps didn't like to help me improve my writing. Be warned, I sometimes, to better frame the scene, include passages from stories I have previously published here. All characters are 18 years old or older.
In this series I write as Doris Sweeney a White, widowed, bisexual, 53 year old woman.
OVER FIFTY HOUSING -- In search of: Her, She and They
A little background......
"Over Fifty Housing" the ad read. What the hell does that even mean?
I'm sorry. I've noticed that I am using the word "Hell" a lot more these days. My grandchildren seem to use it in every sentence, well they actually use worse words, but I didn't until recently. I never use it out loud but it is always in my thoughts. I'm just getting old and grumpy I guess.
Now what the hell was I saying? Concentrate Doris, concentrate. Oh yeah, about this Over Fifty Housing, how am I supposed to know what they are selling if they can't even use correct English? Are the houses over fifty years old? Are all the people living in the houses over fifty years old? The old farts who live here even call the place OFH. like everyone knows that stands for Over Fifty Housing.
On my first drive thru it appears that it is really neither of my guesses. I'm told by friends that it is a neighborhood exclusively for people over fifty but that would mean those children on bicycles are really very young looking old people. The houses are all new with many still under construction. I later learned that those were grandchildren visiting.
I took the walking tour and it turns out they are lovely, moderately priced, new homes on small lots designed to have little or no landscape maintenance. Did I mention how much I detest gardening?
I had lived in my home in a neighboring town for over thirty five years. John and I raised our four children in that house and today it's just too damn big, too damn empty, and too damn expensive. Now there is another word I have started to use a lot.
I learn that I can buy a new two bedroom two bath home in OFH for three hundred thousand dollars. I can sell the big house, a realtor tells me, for seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Realtor lady mumbles something about location, location, location. Who would have thought when we bought it that one day it would be worth three quarters of a million dollars?
With the money from the sale of the old house, my retirement investments, John's retirement investments, social security, and Johns life insurance I can easily live comfortably for the rest of my life and travel, something John never wanted to do. It's time to move on. The children will go ballistic but with the right planning it can be done before they know and can object.
~~
I have lived here for three years now and love it. OFH has opened my eyes to many aspects of getting older that people seldom talk about some sexual, some not.
About a year ago I was offered and took a job working for the builder / developer of OFH. The job is great fun and it gives me first knowledge of new "available" men and women moving in. You'll notice I said available. Especially here at OFH I have come to realize that married or single doesn't really matter. What really matters is available with no complications and capable. Capable has also taken on a different meaning here and with age. For men for example it does not simply mean being able to dance. It also, in the 'definition according to Doris', means a man who can get hard and stay hard and also have the strength and flexibility to use it. For women it's similar. Desire is not enough, strength and flexibility are important. Enough with my boring "available" qualifications!
In my time here I have made many new friends and even met a few people, both men and women and one couple where our relationship went beyond friendship. This is a story of two of those people, Paula Griffin and Leigh Stone.
Paula and her husband Dan were 'walk ins,' people who driving by the impressive water feature entrance and 'Open House' signs, stop by to check out how old people live. An interracial couple, they appeared, at least from initial impressions, to qualify as over fifty. Paula, a slender Black woman had a bit of a trophy wife look about her. Unlike me she wore a lot of jewelry of the 14kt variety and full makeup. She had also adopted the look many young women have today, lots of visible breast. I thought it cheapened her otherwise elegant look but there I go judging again. If what was covered was anything resembling what was visible, they would be more than impressive. Sorry if I seem a little judgmental but a woman showing breast flesh always annoys me a little, mostly because I have so little to show myself.
If Paula was indeed fifty, she was a young fifty. That, by the way, is one of those signs you are getting older, people say things like, 'she is a young fifty.' I suppose they say I'm an 'old fifty.' Dan, a White man, appeared to be older, tall, somewhat heavy but nor obese, with a full head of silver/gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard. They both also appeared to qualify as real potential buyers, at least based on the outward signs of how they were dressed, what they were driving and the watches they wore but there I go judging again.
After a walking tour of two model homes and a model condominium I took them on a golf cart tour of the 'amenities.' You know, the tennis courts, the pool, the gym, the golf course, the community center, the golf club restaurant. Paula's husband, Dan, smiled the whole time and asked questions, lots of questions. He seemed to be willing to consider buying. I also notice that he is very touchy, always touching one of us at every opportunity but not in an in any way offensive manner. I did notice that when her touched Paula's butt his hand lingered and squeezed a little.
Now understand, I am not a sales agent. I'm more a tour guide and cheerleader for the properties. When they asked about next steps and a follow up appointment with a real sales agent I had done my job and would get a small commission if they bought a home or a condo. Nice couple, maybe future friends.
Only a few months later a check arrived. Paula and Dan had in fact bought one of new homes recently completed in a new subdivision of OFH.
~~
A few weeks later I received a call from Paula while at my OFH office. They had finished moving in and she called to ask me to join her for lunch, 'a reward,'she said, for convincing her husband to move. I didn't know I did that but I never pass up a free lunch especially from a beautiful potentially 'available' woman.
Paula and Dan had joined the OFH golf club and of course she wanted to show off her club dinning room privileges so I joined her there on the date she suggested. Paula is about my age I think.
Paula told me how happy she was with her new home and neighborhood. I was pleased. Of course I'm thinking possible referrals. Now, please understand, I don't need the money, I just like the feeling of success and accomplishment I get if someone buys and is happy they did.
As we talked about what she has been doing since she moved in she mentioned she had signed up for the yoga classes at the community center. She mentioned she had heard that I started the yoga classes and asked if it was difficult starting a new social group at OFH. I explained that someone else now ran the yoga glasses but there was no real formality to starting a group, once you have a place and a schedule, word of mouth is really all the advertising you need.
Paula it seems had been busy in other ways. Throughout our conversation she mentioned things and asked questions about me that had me interested in why she was so curious about my past.
We returned to the subject of starting groups and I asked Paula what she had in mind. She said she was a avid reader and would like to start a book club, a woman's book club. I explained that I had tried to start a writers group but it never really worked out. She smiled and said she would sure like to try to start the book club and I offered to help.
In my mind I was thinking she could not possibly know the purpose of my writers group so I let it go telling her I read a lot, mostly trash, but would love be her first member. Paula smiled and said that she would like that.
(Dear reader, if you want to know more about the writers group read Over Fifty Housing -- Writers.)
The continued conversation was light. I learned that Dan, Paula's husband, still ran a business that kept him away, often for days at a time. That was good, it further qualified her as perhaps 'available.'