Swipe Right

'Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?'

Looking up from my newspaper I see a young, early 20s, woman standing on the opposite side of the table to me.

I'd seen her before, this young woman, on a number of occasions, including today, upstairs in the gym. But I'd never had anything to do with her other than noting her presence. And she was always noticeable for wearing very short spray-on shorts and a tiny sports top whilst doing squats - I noticed things like that. She is also noticeable for being quite diminutive, around 5', slender, but not skinny, and attractive with high cheekboned Eurasian features.

The table we're on opposite sides of is in the sports centre cafe. I'm drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, or at least I was until she'd asked the question. She's standing with her hand on the back of a chair looking down at me, waiting for my answer. She's dressed the same as I'd seen her earlier but with the addition of an oversized, for her anyway, sweatshirt.

She looked around then back at me. 'It's very busy.'

She was right, it was.

She smiled. 'And I'm only little.'

I chuckled. 'But perfectly formed.'

Her smile fades. 'Sorry?'

'Small but perfectly formed. It's a saying. Of course you can sit down.' I gathered my too big newspaper together to make room.

My comment seemed to fluster her. 'Oh.....thanks.'

She pulled out the chair, dropped her bag on the floor beside it, and sat, then, without another word, turned her attention to her phone. Seemed to be the way of it these days, no conversation, just endlessly scrolling through whatever. But that's just me being old(er), and totally uninformed as to what sprinkles Billy Nobody had just had on his skinny latte. But then I'm probably just doing a disservice to the young lady sitting opposite me, and to Billy Nobody.

So I looked back down at my paper and did my own scrolling through my memories of her.

My first sight had been relatively recently. It had been from behind as I'd walked into the gym a couple of weeks before; she'd been doing her leg work, which she seemed to do rather a lot of; I later learnt that she did rather a lot of everything associated with a gym.

My first thought had been around how small she was, my second, but only just second, was something along the lines of 'that was a sight worth walking through a door for'; long toned legs, topped by a perfect little arse encased in a pair of grey, micro Lycra shorts, her muscled back was split by her, equally micro, top and long blonde hair braided into a ponytail that reached all the way down to a very narrow waist. And that was pretty much all I could see, but it was more than enough as an introduction.

A little later and I'd seen her from the front, it didn't disappoint; her thighs were deliciously muscled; all hail squats, with a distinctly diamond shaped gap at the top, her small chest was covered by that matching grey sports top that fully exposed the sculpted muscles of her stomach. Her Eurasian features weren't unusual but they added a real delicacy to her that suited her size. And yes, she was diminutive but her body was totally in proportion with her height, everything was slender but not thin or bony, she was toned and muscled but also delicate, it all worked. She was lovely and I bet she broke hearts.

Back to today and the cafe; it was perhaps ten minutes since she'd sat down that I next looked across at her, she was still engrossed in her phone. I'd heard the counter staff call the name twice already but she hadn't flinched so I'd figured the order wasn't hers, but when they shouted the name a third time and she still didn't have anything in front of her, other than her phone, I spoke up. 'Excuse me, but are you Addy?'

She jumped, startled, and dropped her phone, it fell to the floor, screen up, she scrambled to get it, grabbed it and covered it with her other hand, but not before I'd seen what she was looking at.

She flushed and looked at me, not sure what I'd seen. 'Sorry?'

'Are you Addy?'

'Err, yes?'

I nodded towards the counter. 'They're calling your name.'

She looked over her shoulder. 'Oh thanks.' Stood and walked over to collect her order.

She returned with her coffee and, somewhat hesitantly, sat back down.

She still looked a little embarrassed, presumably believing that I'd seen her phone screen.

I decided to say something. 'Does it work for you?'

She blinked and looked at me. 'What?'

I smiled. 'You're right, I did see your phone. Does what you're looking at work for you?'

Either she wasn't sure what I was asking or she was playing for time. 'In what way?'

Not really wanting to say the name of the site out loud in the crowded cafe I said, 'Well, when you consider what the site is for, does it work for you? Do you get what you're looking for? I used to be on it and I'm curious, that's all.'

Her eyes scanned my face, she was still embarrassed but she smiled a little half smile, looked down at the phone still clutched in her hand, then looked back up and put it on the table.

'No not really......mmmm, sometimes, in fact rarely.'

I laughed. 'That good huh.'

She returned my laugh then grinned. 'I don't like it much, serves a purpose I suppose. When, as you say, it works that is.'

'I didn't like it either.'

Her eyebrows went up questioningly.

'Yes. Older people are on there.'

'Oh I know that well enough, I've been hit on by quite a few. I wasn't questioning that, I was questioning why you didn't like it.'

I smiled. 'Yes, I can imagine you have been hit on by a few. My problem with it are the lies that are told, or rather the truths that aren't told. I just got fed up with meeting people who were so not as they described themselves. Plus, and probably more to the point, I didn't have much success, most of the women my age, and a lot younger come to that, were looking for even younger men, a lot younger men; the milf or cougar thing I guess it's called. Anyway, they certainly weren't interested in me, I came off there quite a long time ago.'

She thought about what I'd said. 'There are quite a few things I don't like about it. Some of it's the lies thing, although I don't think it's such an issue at the younger end, a lot of guys don't say anything, just a picture of some part of their anatomy, or at least you assume it's theirs, and think that's enough. But mostly I struggle to find someone who wants what I want. Which I admit I find hard to describe without being too in your face; if I don't say anything I get everyone hitting on me, which was fun and flattering for a while then got really annoying. But if I'm too direct I get all the wrong hits, and if I'm too vague I still get all the wrong hits. Then there's the fact that hardly anyone reads the profile anyway so, what do you do?'

I considered her words 'who wants what I want' then said, 'But you still look.'

'Hmmm, yeah. Well, I have my reasons, and it's pretty much the only way to meet guys without going through the whole performance of clubs or pubs, and they're really not my thing.' She paused, then. 'How do you meet women?'

I pondered her 'I have my reasons'. Then said, 'It just seems to happen. Funny, but it happens more now that I'm older; I've often thought about this by the way. So, I think, once we get a bit older, we've got over our hang-ups and, in some ways, have fewer expectations. Very few are interested in a long-term relationship, just want the occasional bit of fun. Most aren't interested in those dating sites, a lot of people are actually scared, or at least wary, of them. My opinion anyway. So, if it comes along then great, if it doesn't then so be it. For me it's completely random; it can be weeks or it can be days. I've also seen more women who are younger than me, women who want the uncomplicated. Some women I've seen only once, others more often.'

'Have you had lots of relationships?'

I contemplated this young woman and her questions, I didn't mind, I'd started it after all, but these were quite searching questions for someone so young.

She looked at me questioningly, once more waiting for my answer.

'Bearing in mind that I'm in my sixties and that I've been around a lot longer than you. Yes I have had a lot of relationships, from extremely short to much longer, but I've never lived with anyone or been married. In fact I haven't had a going out relationship for a very long time. I realised, long ago, that I was rubbish at them so I've shied away ever since. Been accused of being insecure and frightened of commitment but, to misquote the song, breaking up is too hard to do, and it always seemed to happen, so I don't put myself in that situation any more.'

'But you said that you see women more than once.'

'Yes I do but that's mostly for sex, sometimes coffee, or occasionally even dinner.'

'So isn't there any feelings in the sex?'

Blimey, this was getting a bit deep. 'Suppose it depends on what you mean by feelings. Do I have sex with feeling? Yes I do, I always have. Do I develop an affection for some of the women I know? Yes, but no more than that. And I've always found that the sex is better for it. More fun. Even, in some cases, more adventurous.'

She looked down at the table, seemed to be lost in thought.

'You ok?' I asked.

She looked up. 'Sorry, yes. Just thinking about what you said.'

'Hmm, I did go on a bit didn't I.'

'I asked the question, and thank you for being so honest, I don't suppose you get quizzed by 21 year old women very often.'

21! Blimey. 'Ha, no not too often.' I thought about Nicky, but she was an entirely different package.

'You see, I'm also not very good with relationships.' she started, 'In fact I'm hopeless! I'm just not a people person. What I am good with are computers. I'm what some people would call a nerd: not a word I like by the way. But I don't care, I just love computers and I've made them my job; I design games, web sites, do security stuff, all sorts of things. And I'm good at it. I've also been lucky in my life, except in the height department that is, I inherited a good amount of money and a house from my grandfather so I can do pretty much as I like. I work from home, I come here, I go for walks and I go shopping. All on my own, so, generally, life's good, just as I like it.'

It all came out in a rush, like she was unburdening herself, then she stopped dead, looked a little embarrassed with herself, pursed her lips then muttered, 'Sorry, my turn to go on a bit.'

I smiled. 'Sorry for what? From what you've just said I'd guess that you don't actually talk to others much.' She nodded. I think I already knew the answer to my next question, I just wanted her to say it. 'So if you feel life's good, what's missing?'

She sat and looked at me, I knew that she knew the answer, I think I knew her answer, I just didn't know if she'd say it. Then she did. 'Sex.'

I nodded but didn't say anything, wondering if she would say any more.

She did. 'I might not be a people person but I really do like sex. Would you have sex with me?'

Wow! Now that did catch me out. I hadn't expected that one. I really hadn't thought through where the conversation was going. The whole encounter had been a surprise; sitting here talking about relationships with a woman who was a third of my age: it had almost felt like a father, or even grandfather, daughter chat, not that I'd ever done that, until she'd said that word and suddenly it's a whole different conversation. And now I was lost for an answer.

Actually, what was she asking me? Was it? 'Would I have sex with her now.' Or was it? 'If I was given the chance, would I have sex with her?' And how had she said it? What had the emphasis been on? Now I've totally confused myself. I have even less of an idea of what to say.

She'd immediately blushed, 'Oh God did I actually ask you that? I am so sorry.' She reached down and picked up her bag, began to get up.

I put out my hand, tried to mollify her. 'It's OK Addy, may I call you Addy? Don't worry about it, you didn't embarrass me, or upset me, you did surprise me though. I'm sorry if you're embarrassed, you don't need to be. You did catch me out I grant you that, but I really don't mind you asking, I promise, in fact I applaud your forthrightness.'

She paused in getting up, not quite sure what to do, then sat down again.

'I'm David by the way.'

'Oh. How do you know my name?'

'The coffee guy called it earlier, remember?'

'Ah, yes.' She let out a breath. 'It's short for Adrienne.' Her tongue rolled the d and r, 'My mother is French Vietnamese but a lot of people struggle with the pronunciation, make it sound like Adrian, so I'm Addy.' She spoke in a rush again, trying to cover her embarrassment and need to explain.

I smiled at her. 'That's a shame, Adrienne is a beautiful name.' I made a point of saying it properly, or tried anyway.

'Thank you, I think so too but I'd rather be Addy than Adrian.'

I chuckled. 'Addy it is, if you don't mind me using your name that is?'

'I don't mind at all, in fact I'd like it.'

We looked across the table at each other. Her question still heavy between us.

I still didn't know what she had asked me but decided to try and word my answer in a particular way, and to take a risk. 'What I would like Addy, if you're asking me what I think you're asking me, what I'm hoping you're asking me, and if you're serious, and not regretting asking it, is to have sex with you.'

Me saying it back to her made her blush again, she glanced around nervously, as if to see if anyone was listening. I kept my eyes on her face. She had very green eyes.

Some tension seemed to leave her shoulders. 'I don't think I'm regretting it, although I still can't believe I said it. I do say the wrong thing sometimes, not thinking first. But if you mean it.' She looked up. 'Do you mean it?'

I smile and nod.

'Then yes please.' Her blush deepened.

I decided not to let the moment pass and stood up. 'Well let's go then, let's see what we can get up to.'

Now she looked very unsure, as if a child's dare had been called, and, for a moment, I didn't think she was going to move, but then she clearly made a decision and stood, then walked beside me out of the door.

I considered what to do, I didn't want to go back to my place as that would have meant separate cars and I had the feeling that she wouldn't get there. So it would have to be here, somewhere around the club, and that would mean taking yet another risk.

As we crossed the road towards the car park it all seemed very surreal, less than an hour ago I barely knew her and now, here we were, going somewhere to have sex. It had happened before, with others, this going somewhere with someone I'd just met, but it still felt......unreal.

'Do you mind if we go for a short drive in my car?'

'Where to?' The hesitancy was back in her voice.

'Just up to the overflow car park.' I stopped and looked down at her, the top of her head didn't even come up to my chin. 'You're perfectly safe, I'm not going to kidnap you. It was you that asked for this Addy so you do need to take a little bit of a risk. If you don't think you can trust me then we should go our separate ways.' As soon I'd said the words I worried that I'd been too harsh, but her decision was almost instant.

'Come on then.' And she set off walking, leaving me in her wake.

I laughed. 'Hang on young lady, you'll need me.'

She laughed back. 'I certainly will, let's see if you can keep up.'

I blipped my key fob unlocking my car, she walked straight round to the passenger side and got in.

Turning out of the car park I drove the short distance up to the overflow and parked in the far corner.

During the short drive I'd been trying to decide how I was going to do this without frightening her and seeming like some sort of old pervert. In the process I'd reminded myself that this was her idea, sort of. So I had come up with a plan, sort of.

I climbed out of the car and walked round to open Addy's door. She's looking up at me as I held out a hand. 'Let's see if I can keep up shall we.'

It's clear that her earlier enthusiasm had evaporated and had been replaced with indecision, she's again unsure as to whether or not she's made the right decision: this was becoming hard work, but she took my hand anyway and got out.

I step around the door and, trailing Addy behind me, walk the few steps it takes to get to the front of the car, then I step behind her. 'Put your hands on the bonnet Adrienne.'

Telling her what to do seems to do the trick as, without any hesitation, she does as I say.

I'm certainly going to have to compensate for her height, but I'm sure I'll cope.

I brush the back of my hand across that gorgeous little bum, she doesn't react other than a slight catch in her breath. Lightly rub my fingertips over the backs of her legs just below her shorts. Cup her buttocks in the palms of my hands, give them a squeeze.

Slide my hands around her hips, step up against her, fingertips stroke up under her sweatshirt onto the soft skin at her waist; she shivers at the touch, round onto her tummy, trace the faint outline of her muscles and the slight bump of her tummy button, up onto her boobs; they're very small, more sheets of muscle than soft mounds, but her nipples, even through the fabric of her top, pop at my touch, they're the opposite of small; like the tips of the fingers touching them.

A tension comes into her body, either in the fear of something or in anticipation, I'm not sure which.

But I'm not going to stop now, not unless she tells me to. I roll my palms across them, not hard but enough to cause friction; small circles, then up and down, they get even harder, I can feel their distinct, flat top. Her head drops forward, her breath rasping between her teeth.

Push a hand under her top, a finger catches against her nipple, she jumps. My hand covers her breast, trapping the nipple between my fingers. Push my other hand under, both nipples now captured. I gently squeeze her breasts whilst pinching her nipples, even at this relatively gentle pressure she groans. So now I know, it was in anticipation.

I take each nipple between my fingertips; they're nearly half an inch long, the same in diameter with a slightly concave top; delightfully tactile. I roll them between my thumbs and fingers, pinch them, then roll them again, slowly increasing the pressure; experimenting with her, seeing what she likes, trying to gauge how far to go.

Still wondering what it is she finds hard to describe.

I release one of her nipples, trail my fingers down over her tummy, pause as I touch her shorts. In or out? I ask myself. Out. No need to rush and get it wrong. But then I don't think I'd got it wrong, my fingers have hardly hidden their intentions. But still, I liked out, I'm a bit of a tease at heart, so out it is, to start with anyway.

My fingers follow my thoughts and trace a stitched seam down the front of her shorts.

She holds her breath as my fingers feel the rough texture of trimmed hair covering the bump of her mons, then, as her tummy begins to curve under, the unmistakable shape of the hood covering her clit. And at that very first touch her clit emerges; pushing past that protective covering of flesh, it's big enough that I can feel it through her shorts.

I reach down as far as I can, my fingers pushing between her thighs. The thin fabric does nothing to mask the radiant heat, or the wet patch; already sticky to the touch.

Twist my hand slightly; my fingertips lie along the ridges of the inner lips of her pussy, my thumb still over her clit.

Now I have her literally at my fingertips; one hand still toying with her nipples; squeezing, pinching and rubbing: whilst the other, still through her shorts, begins to play on her pussy; rolling her clit under my thumb and scratching and rubbing her inner lips with my fingers.