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 widowed, bisexual, 53 year old woman.
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 have lived in my home in a neighboring town for over thirty five years now. 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 pension from teaching, Johns residual pension, 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 and I hope to explore many of those in this in this series of stories.
OVER FIFTY HOUSING -- The List
I met Alice in OFH yoga class when I first moved here. Nice enough person, pretty and a perpetual smile, but nothing ever came of our chance meeting until almost three years later when she asked a question of the group during a class break. Alice was planning international travel and needed to renew her passport and to renew her passport she needed an up to date 'official' photograph.
Years ago before I retired and moved here, my now deceased husband and I owned and operated a pharmacy that also provided passport and some other photo services. We sold the business when he became ill but I still have, I'm sure, the camera and other equipment I would need so I approach Alice after the class and volunteer my services.
We agreed that if she wanted we could do it at my home and we set a time for later in the week. The camera and other things leftover from my 'hobby business' were in the garage and I got everything out, checked everything and bought a few things that I needed.
When Alice arrived we sat, talked, and had coffee. The conversation flowed freely like we were old friends. I liked this woman, Alice. Like everyone living in OFH Alice is over fifty but not by much, she is fifty-two. I am somewhat taller and guess she is about five foot three inches tall. Not slender, not obese she mirrors my own battle with chubby. What I first noticed about her were her legs. I'm always envious of women with slender, muscular defined legs. She has short 'dirty blond' hair and is in every other way 'average lovely.'
As we talked, I explained how it happened that I took passport photos, how it all started for me about thirty or more years ago when my husband and I owned a local pharmacy. My husband was the pharmacist and I ran the retail and photo side of the business. As part of that business I took passport photos and developed a photography hobby.
I pointed to the camera and photo albums on the table and Alice picked up and looked through an album. She asked about a particular photo. "And who is this?"
I looked. "Oh, that is Lauren, my first private photo customer."
Alice rightfully looked puzzled, "private photo customer?"
I explained that Lauren and I were good friends, back to high school, good friends. I had taken her passport photo at the pharmacy and she discreetly asked if I knew of anyone who would take 'boudoir' pictures of her to give to her husband on his birthday. I was surprised by her question, mistakenly thought she meant naked, and initially said I didn't know anyone but she should be careful doing that.
As she was paying and about to leave I had second thoughts and quietly suggested I could do it but certainly not here in the store. In a parking lot conversation she agreed to my conditions; in my house; while hubby is working and no one can know who took the pictures.
Two days later Lauren arrived and it did not go well. Somehow she thought makeup was optional. Lauren also apparently thought gym shorts were negligee. For a reason we later laughed about she also thought a few untrimmed stray hairs were sexy.
First things first..... both of us, off shopping for just a few things for her to wear. Then, a few days later in the morning early, a good salon for full makeup and a full wax hair removal, front and rear and everywhere. We had laughed and agreed that she could explain it to her husband as an early birthday present.
"When Lauren, arrived later that day the change was stunning and she was giddy about it. The first thing she did was make sure the house was empty then she stripped naked and like a child with a newly discovered talent she showed me the transformation. Perfect hair, the same reddish blond but shorter and stylish. Perfect makeup with the right color lips. Even foundation makeup to blend the hundreds of freckles on the upper portions of her breasts and chest. I was surprised but secretly pleased at how immodest she was while showing me her naked body."
The picture Alice was looking at is only one I kept of my photo session with Lauren. It was Lauren's favorite and mine too, her in a sexy bra and panties set we bought. Alice looked at the picture and said, "Beautiful woman, I can see why this picture was her favorite." She thought for a moment looking at the picture then said, "But Doris, what is this?" She pointed to a small patch of red/blond hair just above the top of the tiny panties.
I laughed and said, "Lauren didn't want to be completely naked."
We both laughed a little at that idea.
"Alice, I knew then and I know now that the reason I agreed to take the pictures was because even at my age back then, probably twenty-five or so, I was looking for an excuse to look at her naked and maybe do more. There was an amazing amount of raw sexual chemistry I felt for Lauren and I admit that that day I touched her in places and ways I should not have. She did not object or try to stop me in any way. In the end, that day, Lauren and I did not have sex in a way that could be considered traditional but she left me wet and in my bedroom searching for a self inflicted orgasm."
I soon learned that Audrey showed many, not all, of the pictures to friends and I was getting discrete requests for similar boudoir sessions. I remember initially being surprised that so many women, like me in their mid-twenties, wanted their pictures taken partially naked and perhaps in very seductive poses. My ideas about that changed when the first woman really wanted naked pictures and some in very sexually suggestive poses. I realized then that they were taking the pictures for themselves in perhaps a futile attempt to stop the clock from ticking.
A few weeks later I invited Lauren to lunch in my home. I confessed my perversion and she and I took the next step. Lauren for her part was open and confessed to constantly be looking for women who might be interested in non-committal sex. She confided that she had a short list of local women who were available to other women if a connection was made, if the chemistry was right. She and I shared the list and added a few names to it for about three years after our first time together. I, like Lauren, have had a short list of such women ever since.
~~
Alice was quietly flipping through the pictures seemingly lost in thought.
"Doris, these pictures tell a story don't they?" She showed me a picture of an older and a younger woman near naked then continued, "Did some women pose with their moms?"
"Yes, a few did. Almost everyone looked to me for pose suggestions. Of course I didn't know really what I was doing so I always simply mentioned what others had asked for. The first woman to ask to be photographed naked set the stage for more."
All through the story Alice was flipping pages in the album and I caught that she was cupping one of her breasts and fingering the nipple through the fabric of her top.
Alice was looking at a picture and I continued, "Eventually I had to give up the 'private photo' business. If my husband had ever found out what I was doing he would have left me I'm sure. When I stopped I had taken photos of about thirty-five women. Everyone was local and I knew each one at least casually so the risk was low but I didn't need the stress of the secrecy from my husband."