Author's foreword: Warning: if you read this both reconciliation and a new love awaits: please move on and read someone else's submission if you will be offended. As usual a reader cannot 'get it up' with my room-temperature sex descriptions and I use multisyllabic words to express my POV of life in general both in the story and the dialogue. I am pleasantly surprised that I have as many readers as I do, frankly, and thanks to you, and especially those who make constructive comments - public and private. Also thanks to Literotica for providing a forum so wannabe writers like me can learn to write!
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Martin Caldwell was a 55 year old, divorced father of two grown children, fit, and a successful salesman of Machine tools and controls to specialty manufacturers. He traveled at least 25,000 miles per year. His former wife complained that his extensive traveling was the cause of their love growing cold and her subsequently falling in love with someone else.
Of course, it was painful to him and even more so for their oldest daughter, 23 who was pregnant with her second child at the time of the big family explosion - his son-in-law even talked his wife into breaking off relations with her mother, and so far she refused to even visit her Mom.
This stunningly beautiful daughter, Susan Caldwell Feinberg, was one of those children born to make visitors ohh and awe at just seeing her. She grew up taking many sport type lessons but only excelled in Ballet. By her senior year in high-school she would entertain friends by standing on her toes effortlessly or raising her leg forward so that she could touch her nose with her leg. But she had no interest in college or professional dancing and just wanted to be a housewife. Jerry Feinberg came along and she became Susan Feinberg. Until her belly was big from carrying their first baby she looked as if she well could have been a dancer for the New York City Ballet.
Their playboy son, Marcus (Mark) Caldwell, was a recent college graduate, almost 22 years old and, by way of contrast with his sister, took the parents breakup in stride. Marcus was tall, handsome and Pussy-whipped. He visited both his father and his mother regularly - but only for a moment when on his way to somewhere else. Martin had pulled strings to get his son a management trainee position in his company after college graduation.
Martin's ex-wife, Helen Caldwell, also mid-50s, was a self made woman
selling high end and farm real estate. She was svelte and a top closer in the North Texas area. Like most driven people, she had only a few friends and none were close. She had very much loved her husband and children at one time but even then never quite backed off from incessantly thinking about 'the next sale.'
By the time the four person conference was held in his wife's divorce attorney's office, Martin's male ego pain had eased mostly so that the negotiations went through rather smoothly. His wife only wanted half of all assets, and reluctantly, agreed to pay half of the few remaining family debts as well. She wanted no future money or retirement funds of her husbands and her mantra during the meeting was entirely, 'Lets get this over with as this conference is costing me money!"
Eight months after the divorce Martin found himself bored but financially better off with each passing month. He hopped bars and and recovery groups as he tried to find an interesting date, but nothing worked. And then there were the co-workers who insisted that they could fix him up with the next Mrs.Caldwell, but nothing ever materialized there either.
So, he paid his stiff fee for a 'Sugar Daddy' meet up site membership and began perusing the personal profiles of the college aged young ladies in the DFW Mid-Cities area who might be compatible, beautiful and who was looking to barter pussy for college money. This meant that he was looking for someone whose view of life was such that college loans sucked for that special lady! At first he summarily rejected the beautiful ladies because their profiles described someone completely not his type. He kept looking for the elusive beauty who might fit his win-win personality. He was shocked at just how few there were.
There was, however, a plain looking lady who was exactly what he wanted, personality wise. He was reluctant to meet her because she was frankly 'country' looking. But the two kept a stream of emails flowing to each other. Her name was Dimple Washington. He was crazy about his pen-pal at one level but kept thinking, "For 50 thousand dollars a year, I should be able to get 'Helen of Troy into my bed.'" He kept making dates with beauties in his search while he wrote and received long pointed emails to Dimple Washington.
Today, for example, one year after the divorce was granted, one such beauty sat across from him. Martin slumped in a Starbucks easy chair listening to a young lady drone on and on about how she wanted to 'make a difference in the world' after college. He had made a date with her because her profile was ambiguous, but that she just might be worth a latte to hear her out. In five minutes he was bored stiff, but he felt generous and good, physically and mentally, and offered the courtesy of hearing her out. The fly-paper that attracted the lady was Martin's money, but she was hopelessly unable to grasp what kind of man Martin was. He mused while she yakked, "I have money in the bank tax-free because I bought a modest condo with my share of the proceeds from the sale of our spacious home and acreage. I can do better than this!"
Martin's profile had said in part, 'Successful gentleman seeks suitable coed...' While the lady sitting across from him talked non-stop, he continued to think with no facial expression, "You certainly look like a million dollars, Bitch, but a scatterbrain dedicated to fixing the planet can't possibly make the cut. Whew! Someone is going to spend a whole lot of time with you, poor creature, and my problems don't seem so major by comparison."
At a lull in her talking, he had forgotten her name, but said, "I am interviewing a number of college coeds, Miss. What I am really looking for is a compatible person who will keep my house clean, prepare some meals when I am in town,
and of course be my Squeeze in a committed relationship for the duration of the contract interval we agree to. There, of course, will be plenty of time to be a full time student. At the end of the day the successful candidate doesn't have to borrow money for the coming year's college expense and we will provide each other with... companionship."
After the chatter went on and on he cut in and said, "You are a stunningly beautiful woman at 19 and I certainly can see why your high school student body voted you 'most beautiful,' so I will remember that when making my choice within the next week."
After a few more wasted moments of chit-chat that even involved a desperately strong sexual 'come-on' on the candidate's part, Martin said, "Thanks for coming out and please take this cab fare as a token of my appreciation," as he pressed twenty dollars into her hand.
The salesman went home and put a TV dinner into the oven and logged on to his Sugar Daddy account to see
if more nibbles had happened in the last 24-hours. There were none who were interesting. In desperation for companionship he finally made an appointment with his long time Sugar-daddy pen pal, Dimple, for the next late afternoon.
When she walked into Starbucks, Martin was, frankly, shocked. This young lady did, in fact, look ugly compared to the others. But he persevered since she had so many characteristics he wanted in a relationship - including a bottom line drive to be successful. She had kept suggesting a meet up and he kept refusing until this afternoon.
Martin Caldwell sat across from an iconoclastic young lady dressed in a spring chill running suit - her top was wet with sweat. (By way of contrast, the others had been dressed to the Nines.) It was her firm body and tall proud frame with a vanishingly small fat content in her skin that captured his attention - he could have sworn he saw a statue of her body in an Athens Museum once. After five minutes of in-person greeting and introductory chatting the first substantive thing Martin asked of her was, "May I touch your arm?"
