Ticeted

*Author's note. I've pushed the age envelope in a couple of my stories, but as I become more aware of just how many older women (50-70) there are who are still incredibly beautiful and young looking, it seems much less far-fetched to imagine younger men dating and possibly even marrying them for reasons other than money.

Like all other stories, this isn't reality. It's a romantic tale of possibilities, not likely probabilities. So if this one comes across as a bridge too far, enjoy it for what it is—a brief break from the reality of life.

These are just stories; romantic tales of love and making love. My characters are either divorced or widowed and like their counterpart, ready to fall in love when they meet. Oftentimes, they're not even aware that they are until they meet that special someone and everything falls into place. You know...just like in real life. :-)

******

"You're awfully quiet today, Donna."

"Oh, sorry, DeeAnne. I got a ticket on the way to work."

"No offense, but you don't exactly follow the posted speed limit. This can't be any big surprise."

"Getting pulled over isn't a surprise. Getting an actual ticket is," she replied.

"Oh, okay. So...you just bat your eyes and flip your hair and get off with a warning, right?"

"Well...yes. I mean, I can't remember exactly how many times I've been pulled over since I started driving, but I can count on one hand the number of times a smile and some subtle flirting didn't do the trick."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't know. I've been pulled over three times in my life and I've been ticketed all three times. You're a very attractive woman, so it's kind of hard to feel too sorry for you if you finally had to take your medicine like we mere mortals."

"Thank you for saying that. I think. Maybe it's silly, but since my husband walked out on me, I can't help but think it's over."

"Over?" her co-worker said seeking clarification. "What's over?"

"Yes. Over. For me, at least. Looks fade. Women start becoming invisible."

"Oh, like me," the other woman said rather glumly.

"Come on! That's not fair," Donna told her. "I know it's vain, but my looks have been a huge part of my identity. If they're gone, too, what's left?"

"Well, all I can say is I'd give a whole lot to have your looks and I'm only 41!"

Donna McPherson had just turned 53 and while she didn't look 30 anymore, she still passed for being in her mid-30s most of the time. She not only still wore her dark hair almost to her shoulders, it still worked for her. All of her friends her age had long ago cut their hair short, and although they'd done so for convenience sake, they all knew long hair just looked silly on them. But not Donna. She could still pull it off and pull it off quite well. She'd also been blessed with incredibly good skin, and her face—like her body—was still tight and youthful-looking.

Her husband of 23 years, Frank, left her without warning just over a year ago. He'd been sneaking around seeing someone who actually was 30 and that, as much as the betrayal itself, had hurt her deeply.

Like her, Frank was still a very attractive, very youthful-looking man. Both of them bicycled or swam together six days a week. They watched what they ate and Donna took very good care of her skin in addition to her own good fortune of being genetically blessed.

Frank's affair had rocked her to her core. She'd been devastated and still hadn't stopped self-analyzing to see what she'd done wrong. All of her friends had assured her from day one she'd done nothing wrong, and yet she couldn't help but think if only she'd... And yet she could never fill in the blank with the whatever this 'grave mistake' was she'd made that had cost her her marriage. Even so, she kept right on blaming herself.

Deep down she knew there was no mistake. In spite of the care Donna took to look young and attractive, Frank had simply gotten bored, and a younger, willing, very attractive woman had caught his eye. He was an ass and there was nothing more to it. And yet she not only thought about it most of the time, she found herself looking in every mirror she passed wondering if it really was over, with 'it' being her looks.

Donna was grateful for her job which kept her very busy and often too busy to wallow around in this self-made pity party she'd invented to soothe her battered ego. With this much time and self-reflection she thought she should be feeling better. The problem was she wasn't feeling better. She was just feeling...old.

Adding insult to injury, the way this motorcycle cop treated her today had really hurt. It would have bothered her anytime, but she was feeling particularly vulnerable lately.

He was young and very handsome and Donna found herself oddly attracted to him from the moment she saw him get off the bike in her mirror. She had her driver's license and registration out along with a quickly-scribbled note she'd written on a yellow sticky with her phone number on it along with the words 'call me anytime'.

When he walked up to her car, she flashed him her best smile and said, "Good morning, officer. Please tell me I wasn't speeding."

He hadn't even smiled back. He just coldly said, "License and registration, please."

She handed him all three items, and after glancing at her note, he handed it back to her without comment saying, "Please stay in the vehicle and keep your hands where I can see them."

She watched him call dispatch then pull out his ticket book. That had happened many times before, but had almost always ended in a warning citation.

When he came back to her side of the car, he returned her paperwork then said, "Ma'am, I stopped you because you were doing 52 in a 35 zone. Did you not see the speed limit sign less than a half mile back?"

"Oh, silly me!" she said playfully. "I guess I must have missed it. I was late and on my way to work—I'm an RN at County General—and perhaps I was going a tad over."

She poured on the charm, smiling and blinking and even said, "I really admire our men in blue. You have such a difficult job."

He thanked her very tersely then tore off the ticket.

"It you care to dispute the citation, you can make an appointment with traffic court by calling the number at the bottom of your copy."

"But...shouldn't this just be a warning, officer?" she said still playing the game.

"Not when you're more than ten miles an hour over the limit, ma'am. You were doing seventeen over the limit."

"So...this is an actual ticket then?" she said, her smile finally fading.

"Yes, ma'am. That is indeed a ticket. Oh, and please slow down. You never know when someone might pull out unexpectedly or God forbid, a child. In your line of work, you know full well how terrible that would be."

Donna didn't say anything else. She set the ticket on the passenger seat as the officer said, "Unless you have a question, you're free to leave. I'll stop traffic so you can get back into your lane."

She still didn't know why she said it, but she did.

"Officer? Do you think I'm...attractive?"

"Ma'am?" was his response.

"Oh, never mind," she told him as she started her car. She said very quietly so he couldn't hear, "You're probably gay, anyway."

She knew she was being petty and that her comment wasn't fair. He was as good-looking a man as she'd ever seen, and not being able to even get him to notice her just—hurt. Okay, she couldn't see his hair because of the helmet, but his face was nothing short of amazing and from what she could see, he had a body to match. None of that had anything to do with being gay or straight, but it made Donna wonder if perhaps she wasn't attractive enough anymore for him to even notice her. Not hit on her—just look at her and maybe even smile back the way men always did. Or...used to anyway.

She looked up just as the officer told her, "Be careful, and Ms. McPherson? Please do slow down," he told her as he held up his hand and stopped the oncoming car.

Donna realized she was lost in thought when she heard her colleague say, "Okay, so you got a ticket. It isn't the end of the world."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," she said. "But he didn't even smile at me!"

Donna turned to walk away then said, "Getting old sucks."

"Oh, cry me a river!" her younger friend said. "I'd pay a lot of money to look as young as you and I am younger than you! I'm 41 and everyone thinks you're younger than me so while I know you're going through a rough patch, it's kinda hard to be too sympathetic."

"I know. I'm just feeling sorry for myself, and it's high time and I got passed it and moved on."

She smiled at her co-worker then sighed and said, "I'm not getting any younger, you know!"

Both of them laughed and her friend said, "Come give me a hug!" as she held out her arms to offer the only comfort she could.

******

"Hey, Bruce. You ever let a woman off because she's good looking?"

"Once or twice," he admitted. "But only if they were also friendly and showed a little remorse. Why?"

"I dunno. I wrote this woman a ticket this morning. Don't get me wrong. It was a good call. She was doing seventeen over so it wasn't like it was even close."

"Then what's the problem, Matt?" his fellow officer asked.

"I'm not sure really. She had this...this kind of really healthy, clean kind of...pretty about her. You know, the girl-next-door, fresh-scrubbed kind of thing."

"Yeah, I do know. I love that look. I don't mind a little makeup, but that wholesome thing is pretty amazing. So what's the problem?"

"No problem. Not really. I was just very surprised when I looked at her license. She looked maybe 35 at the most, and it turns out she just turned 53! I looked three times before I could believe my eyes."

"No way. No one that old looks that young."

"You'd have to see it yourself to believe it, but I guess that's what's got me so hung up."

"Did she flirt with you at all?" the older officer asked.

"Yeah. Come to think of it, she did. She even gave me her phone number, but I gave it right back to her. She smiled a lot and sounded kind of playful, but a lot of women do that when you pull them over. I always ignore it and do the right thing, and that's what I did with her, too."

"Yeah, yeah. You're a real Boy Scout, Jamison. So what's the beef? What's the big deal here? Are you saying you actually thought about asking her out or something?"

"I love being a cop, and that's a huge no-no, so I'd never do that. But I gotta tell you if I met this woman at a bar or something, I'm pretty sure I'd want to get to know her better."

"Yeah, but as old as she is, what's gonna come of it? I know you young guns do all your 'hookin' up' and what not, but you're not gonna have any kind of relationship with someone your mother's age. It just ain't happening."

"My mom's 62 but point taken," Matt replied. "Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm even talking about it. I'm never gonna see the woman again and even if I did, you're right. I'm 28 and she's...not."

"Well, I'm 43 and I'd love to be able to date girls who are 18-21 again, but that ain't happenin'. Hell, I'm lucky to even get a date these days. If I looked like you, I'd be gettin' laid every damn day of the week. But hey, if the grandma thing turns you on, go for it. But that's the last place I'd be looking for love or anything close to it."

"I hear you, Bruce, but this woman didn't look like any grandmother I've even seen. I'm not kidding when I say she was hot as hell."

The older officer finished putting on his civilian clothes, shut his locker, and said, "Okay. I believe you. So...you up for a beer?"

"Yeah, sure. I can hoist a a golden frosty or two with you." The younger officer smiled then said, "If you're buying."

Matthew Jamison was a three-year veteran of the Seattle Police Department after serving four years on active duty in the U.S. Marine Corps. He'd thought seriously about re-enlisting, but in the end decided to get out and try his luck in the civilian world.

After working construction for a few months then selling used cars for about the same amount of time, he was seriously regretting leaving active duty. He missed the structure of being in uniform and working with people who had a sense of being part of something bigger than themselves and felt lost drifting from one crappy job to another.

After talking to a friend from high school who told him a mutual acquaintance had been a cop for the last seven years, Matt started looking into becoming a police officer. Shortly after that, he applied for the Seattle police academy, got accepted, and started with the next available class. He'd done quite well at the academy and during his three years on the force.

He worked as a beat cop for a year then jumped on the first opportunity that came along to work as a motorcycle cop and had been doing so for the last two years. The weather wasn't always his friend, but he loved being outdoors and so far, he'd never gotten tired of riding. At some point, he knew he'd be driving a desk, so he was in no hurry to move indoors and spend his days filling out paperwork.

And now, Matt Jamison couldn't get this attractive, older...no—much older woman off his mind. Perhaps it was just the shock of learning she was so much older than she looked, and yet he had to admit she was downright gorgeous regardless of what age she was on paper.

Bruce was right. Jamison could get laid pretty much any day of the week, and done more than his share of that since coming home to Seattle. But just getting laid was getting old. Only three years ago, he thought he'd never get tired of picking up some beautiful new girl, taking her home, and hoping she'd be gone before he woke up.

But now he was getting burnt out on this endless cycle of meaningless sex, and perhaps that was what was really eating at him. Maybe he was finally getting ready to settle down and his brain was starting to send him signals. But why would it pick someone who was 53 to kick off the notion of settling down with?

Three hours later, all of the alcohol he'd imbibed was out of his system, and after saying goodbye to Bruce and the other guys from his precinct, he headed home to his apartment alone; something he hadn't too often those last three years. He'd even been hit on by a girl he'd taken home a few months ago and turned her down. He made up some excuse about why he couldn't sleep with her, and even though it sounded as lame as it was, it seemed preferable to admitting he was crushing on someone his mother's age. Okay, someone close to his mother's age.

The last thing he remembered thinking before falling asleep was being referred to the department shrink for having 'mommy issues.'

Jamison thought about her many times over the next two weeks although the number of times began falling off after the first week or so. He'd pretty much given up on it when he was on patrol in the same place he'd pulled her over at almost exactly the same time of day. Then again, he'd been there no less than five times since then, so that wasn't all that unusual as it was part of his regular route. And yet he still did a double take when he saw her car as he couldn't be sure it wasn't someone else driving the same make, model, and color car as hers.

He initially saw her profile as he pulled up alongside her car then clearly saw her face. He hair was pulled back into a ponytail today and he remembered why he'd been unable to stop thinking about her. For the briefest of moments, he hoped she wouldn't look over at him, but almost everyone looked when they saw a motorcycle pull up next to them and especially once they realized it was a police officer.

Donna glanced over once then did a double take herself when she recognized him. It was about 45 degrees outside and the air was cold and raw, but she still rolled down her window and smiled.

"I hope you noticed I wasn't speeding today, officer," she said as they sat and waited for the light to turn green.

"I did notice," he told her. He smiled then said, "Then again, you're kind of hard not to notice, Ms. McPherson."

Donna suddenly felt a surge of those old feelings and smiled back at him.

"Wow. I'm impressed that you remembered my name." She smile again then asked him, "Are you flirting with me, officer?"

"I'm on duty so that would be unprofessional of me, ma'am," he told her as he smiled back. "But were you ever to show up at Flanigan's some evening..."

"I know where that is," she told him.

"Okay, well, if I were to see you there sometime, it's very likely I would flirt with you," he said.

The light turned green and just as they got ready to drive off, Donna said, "Really? Well, just so you know, I might flirt back."

Matt tipped the visor of his helmet and sped off as Donna rolled up her window before she slowly pulled into the intersection still smiling.

"Now that's more like it!" she said to herself as she headed to work feeling on top of the world for the first time since Frank walked out.

"Someone's in a good mood today," DeeAnne said after Donna almost sang 'good morning' to everyone at the front desk.

"She is!" Donna told her.

"Is the reason why a big secret or are you going to share it with us?" DeeAnne asked.

"Remember the motorcycle cop who gave me the ticket a couple weeks ago?"

"How could I not remember?" she replied. "Did you get pulled over again and flirt your way out of a ticket this time or something?"

"Or...something," Donna said unable to stop smiling. By now, all of the other girls had stopped doing what they'd been doing and were waiting for her to dish.

"Well, this morning, Officer Friendly pulled up alongside my car so I rolled down my window, and I asked him if he noticed I wasn't speeding."

"Oh, okay. Now it's clear," DeeAnne said drawing a laugh from the other women who had no idea what she meant. "And?"

"And...then he told me it's hard not to notice me!"

There were some oohs and aahs before DeeAnne asked, "Is that it?"

"Not exactly," she said coyly. She recounted the rest of the brief conversation which ended in even more comments like 'you go, girl!'

"So...are you going? To Flanigan's?" DeeAnne asked.

"Maybe," she replied.

"Would it help if you had some company?" DeeAnne asked knowing that's what she was hinting at.

"Would you mind?" Donna asked with raised eyebrows.

One of the other nurses who was brand new said, "I used to date a cop, and that's one of their favorite watering holes."

"What happened to him?" they asked.

"I married him!" she said as they all laughed before going to work.

That evening, DeeAnne met Donna at her place at 6 o'clock just as they'd agreed. DeeAnne had gone home to shower and change, and for once, she felt pretty good about herself and the way she looked. She didn't date a lot and it had been quite a while since she'd gotten laid. After striking out with yet another doctor earlier that week, the thought of a roll in the hay with a nice-looking police officer seemed like a very pleasant way to spend the evening—or night.

Her confidence slipped away the moment Donna opened the door to let her in.

"Come in!" her older friend said. "You look very nice."

DeeAnne was wearing a nice-looking, pale-blue blouse with a pair of black pants, and were it not for Donna, she'd have continued feeling very confident. But one quick glance at her friend made her realize she looked relatively...frumpy.

"Wow. How do I compete with that?" DeeAnne asked giving Donna the once-over.

"Do you like it?" she asked unaware the younger woman was envious and possibly even jealous.

"You look amazing," she admitted. "Like you always do."

Donna was wearing a long-sleeved, dark-yellow colored sweater with cut outs exposing her bare shoulders while actively highlighting her other 'womanly attributes'. DeeAnne wasn't a big girl, but as a size 12 she felt huge standing next to Donna with her tight little waist and perfect boobs in her size 6 skirt. And making matters worse, the cute little black skirt she was wearing was something DeeAnne couldn't have worn when she was 16. If that wasn't bad enough, DeeAnne was wearing flats, and Donna was wearing heels and looked sensational in them.