The Post Office Part 1. (Dylan's story)
A local English Post Office is generally a pretty dull affair. An institution older than most of the customers and staff that frequent it.
Where younger generations have gone digital for just about everything, the older generation still like to use the Post Office for these things, to see a friendly face, get out the house and have someone to chat to doesn't hurt either.
Most of the staff are certainly above a certain age and don't seem in a rush to do anything, or particularly pleased to have anyone disturbing their morning coffee with such trivialities as post.
Of course it isn't just the elderly that go there, people still need to post things, mainly parcels since the advent of email. People like me.
I don't paint this picture to be negative, far from it, it's a wonderful place that I use frequently as I work in mail order online. I only set the scene as it's about as far from a sexualised atmosphere as you can imagine, you certainly don't expect to meet anyone there.
I would go to my local P.O about once a week with all my post, by now the staff (all elderly women) knew me pretty well, it was routine, dull, but it was work and had to be done.
One day I came in to find a new member of staff behind one of counters. They had a core of about two staff who were always there, then they seemed to be going through extra help at quite some rate. From what I'd seen it didn't surprise me, some of them were frankly incompetent pretending to be busy without doing much whilst leaving the other staff to do all the work.
There was something about this new lady that immediately caught my attention. To this day it's hard to explain what it was. There was an immediate sense of connection, of knowing, familiarity. Of attraction.
All this just from waiting in the queue, we hadn't spoken or locked eyes, nothing. As it turns it she didn't serve me on this first encounter, I was at the counter adjacent to her. Still very close. She glanced across and gave me a friendly smile, no doubt aware of me looking at her. Perhaps it was a friendly 'I'm new' smile or maybe she felt the connection I did, perhaps it was all in my head. Who knew.
Whilst the lady serving me dealt with my post, I couldn't take my eyes of this new lady, without trying to stare too obviously. It was hard to tell how old she was, certainly older than me, I was just twenty five at the time. Was she fifty? sixty? I was never good at guessing ages. She was tall and thin, almost as tall as me.
She dressed like a young girl. Not in a trying to look younger way, just in a youthful hippy kind of look. She was clearly comfortable in her own skin with little to no make up. Her hair was dark and a little messy, shoulder length. Her face showed her age, lines and all and yet she glowed somehow. She embraced something about life and seemed effortlessly content.
She wore a loose white nylon top with frilly edges that buttoned up. It was low cut, translucent and loose enough that you could see her black bra through it. She had very small breasts from what I could see, almost flat chested.
What really stood out was she had her mobile phone stuck into her bra, I'd only seen young teen girls do that before. Yet somehow it seemed completely natural and normal for her, a fifty something woman with a phone sticking out of her bra. The counter obscured my view from anything but the waste up.
Logically I was trying to understand what captivated me about her, this certainly wasn't your normal cougar fantasy, an older woman with sex appeal or big breasts or flirting with younger guys to make herself feel younger. A cougar you can point out to your friends and they'll know what you mean. I certainly wouldn't tell anyone about this, they'd think I was crazy, joking or had some weird older lady fetish.
I heard her speaking to other customers. She had the most relaxing, soft slow voice. It was a slightly aged understanding voice, calming. Not in that forced new age, hippy 'trying' to be a certain way, it was all natural.
Over the next few months I didn't see her working there too often. I suppose she was part time or cover staff. When she was she would always look over at me and smile, say hello even if she didn't serve me. I felt like there was a mutual connection. When she did serve me it was the same, we didn't say much to each other, no small talk. I just enjoyed being in her presence and the silence didn't feel awkward. There was an unspoken appreciation, connection.
I never considered trying to flirt or make a move so to speak. Partly because it was a busy post office and the other staff were so close, but also because I had to consider the possibility this was all in my head. In reality she might not remember me from one week to the next and might be married with kids.
This connection might be all one sided and an awkward attempt to 'chat up' the older lady at the Post Office would likely be met with confusion, embarrassment and very awkward future visits. Not to mention I've never been that great at talking to women anyway and a naturally shy person.
Many months went by without seeing her at all. Eventually it became clear she no longer worked there as I saw new staff working where she once did.
The next time I saw her was by chance, not far from the post office. I didn't realise it was her at first. I was walking down a fairly long straight path and in the distance saw an attractive figure walking a dog towards me. She was too far away to see details, but my brain told me 'attractive girl coming this way'. This is normally when guys start to act strange or develop an odd walk.
Maybe it was her slim figure or dress sense, or walk that made me think it was someone younger, but as she got close I realised to my surprise who it was.
As we came together we both just stopped and smiled.. apart from 'Hello' we didn't really say anything. This should have been awkward but it wasn't. We'd never really chatted, I didn't even know her name! A polite 'hello' or head nod would be normal whilst continuing to walk. But we both just stopped and seemed to enjoy the silence we'd shared in the post office, I didn't feel the urge to say anything or the urge to leave.
For the first time I could see below her waste. She had long elegant legs, wore trendy jeans that showed off her figure, she had such a youthful spirit.
I bent down and patted her dog briefly and finally decided I should be on my way.
"Okay, bye." she said in that slow soft voice whilst smiling. She made no effort to move as if to show she was content for me to stay. Maybe she was just walking her dog and had nowhere to be.
I pondered so many things. Did she live alone with her dog? What was her story? Was this a mutual feeling? Was I imagining it?
I imagined all the things I should have said or asked after the fact, the way we always do. I was sure now I wanted to pursue this. I wasn't even sure if it was sexual, I didn't know what it was just that I wanted to find out.
A few weeks later a similar encounter happened on a nearby street, again she was walking her dog. This time I got nervous as we approached as I told myself to say something. As we got close I awkwardly petted her dog and nervously mumbled some nonsense, she was as calm as ever. With no idea what I was going to say I hurried off as if in a rush and said my goodbyes.
I was irritated at myself, the truth is I had no idea what to say to a lady twice my age, do I ask for her number? To go for a drink? It didn't seem natural or likely to succeed. Subconsciously I gave up on the idea, dismissing it as nothing more than a fantasy.
Our next encounter on the street was more like the first. I had no ambitions of chatting to her or trying to get somewhere. Once again we just stopped in the street with a smile, I'm not even sure we said hello this time.
She was wearing a loose cream harem style dress. The top showed the curves around her waste, ass and thighs and then drooped to overlapping creases of fabric. She had a loose belt with large bronze circles around it. Her top was thin, loose and black showing glimpses of her white bra. I remember thinking she must be cold. Something about her reminded me of Woodstock.
Then I asked her something and I have no idea where it came from, it just came out,
"Are you an artist?" I asked with a sincerity that surprised even me. 'Where did that come from?' I thought to myself.
She smiled and looked at me intently, as if pondering the weight of a serious question. Most people would fire back with "Why do you say that?" or "Yes I do a little of this and that,"
After a pause she softly replied,
"Are you busy?"
"No." I replied without even thinking, which wasn't even true. I was clearly busy and on my way somewhere. A nervous tingle spread throughout my body, unsure of what was happening.
"Walk with me." she said as she turned to lead the way. Before I could ask where we were going she's said, "My house is just here." Pointing to a row of houses in the distance.
I had butterflies in my stomach, wondering what was happening. I didn't get the feeling I was being invited around for sex. It seemed more like two people who knew each other so well it was just natural to invite them in.
But we didn't know each other and I was walking with her to her home. I had no idea what to expect. Am I going to walk in to be introduced to a husband and kids with no idea what to say as to why I'm there? Does she want me to just make a move as soon as we walk in? Does she just see me as a young guy and is just being friendly? I had to just play it by ear, I was almost shaking in anticipation.
"I'm Dylan," I said, remembering we didn't even know each others names.
"I'm Julie," she smiled, 'This is Coco.' gesturing to her little dog.
She walked slowly, with a sway as if she enjoyed every step. She lived for the moment.
"So you don't work at the post office anymore then?" I asked nervously, almost as small talk avoiding the obvious question of what we were going to do at her house. In truth I did want to know this along with so much more, I wanted to know it all.
"No, I'm retired, I was just helping there part time. It was a bit too hectic. I do write and do some drawing and photography though. I'll show you now, you can tell me what you think."
She spoke slowly and would often pause mid sentence as if contemplating every word. She was fascinating. Sometimes she came across as if she was a little high, though in reality I don't think she was.
"You seem young to be retired?" I asked barely concealing the actual question of 'How old are you?'
"I'm fifty eight." She said confidently, almost proudly.
This was still young to be retired but I didn't want to push the point, she was fifty eight I was twenty five. Was this crazy?
