Week Of The Big Five Oh

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activities are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

At age forty seven, Helen Mouton was unprepared for her husband's announcement that he had fallen out of love with her and thought it best that they have an amicable divorce. Their oldest child was thirty years old, and happily married, living in Martinelli, Idaho, the wife of a teacher at the Atwell School of Divinity. Their son, Charlie Jr. was working with an oil company, working on rigs in and around in Oxmore, N.D., and Nadine, their twenty two year old 'baby' had just moved out of their home, moving to Oakleaf, Texas with her boyfriend, Kenny.

"You what?" Helen stammered, not sure she'd heard right.

"So, you know, if you just sign here, uh, and here, and uh, think that's all, we can file these with the courthouse and..." Charles said, sliding the sheaf of papers across their highly polished table.

"This, this cannot be happening," Helen said to herself, plopping down into an ornate chair.

She tuned her fifty four year old husband out as he impatiently waited for her to sign the documents. Finally, he snapped that he needed to hurry; he was already ten minutes late, thanks to her dawdling.

With a slam of their side door, he was gone. The sound of the door slamming broke Helen out of her stunned stupor and she gathered up the papers.

Marching out of the house, still in her flannel robe and flannel nightgown and fuzzy slippers, Helen marched across the wet grass of their front yard, across the wet grass of the Williams's yard and knocked on their door.

"Oh, hi!" Stephanie Williams, the beautiful woman answered brightly. "Come on in! Just finished feeding the kids; oh my God, the house is a mess, but..."

"Trevor," Helen barked. "I need to see Trevor."

Stephanie then noticed her neighbor's frazzled expression, the frumpy nightclothes and stopped chattering. She grabbed Helen's hand and pulled the older woman to the kitchen table, which was still sticky with grape jelly and spilled orange juice. Stephanie wiped an area clean and plopped a cup of coffee in front of Helen Mouton.

"Ethel, Trevor with anyone?" Stephanie asked into her phone. "Yes, yes, about four months along now. Well, what do you think? Of course he's excited. Me? Oh God, got two of them, one's crawling, the other one's running, I'm just about worn out. Thanks, Ethel. Love you too."

Helen sipped the far too strong, far too sweet coffee, still numb. She heard Stephanie's voice chattering with someone, heard the two children as they played in the playpen, heard Stephanie say 'love you too' and then Stephanie was gently squeezing Helen's shoulder.

"One o'clock," Stephanie said quietly. "You know where his office is? Need me come with you?"

"Nineteen, right across from Bombay, isn't it?" Helen asked, taking another sip of her coffee.

Helen remembered to call St. Elizabeth's Public Utilities and let her supervisor know an emergency had arisen. Then, after receiving a firm hug from Stephanie, Helen walked back to her house.

Trevor Williams looked over the papers that Charles Mouton had given to Helen. He smirked, then rapidly filled out a separate set of papers. Verifying Charles's work address, Trevor then called Richard Boudreaux to have Charles Mouton served.

Charles was livid when he returned home from work. He screamed at Helen, waving the papers that Trevor Williams had filled out for her, demanding to know what Helen thought she was doing.

"Standing up for myself, ass hole," Helen snapped. "Your clothes are in Nadine's room; you're not sleeping with me."

"Thank God," Charles snapped nastily. "Looked at your ass lately?"

"Looking right at him," Helen snapped, even though his words had stung.

She'd been a teenager, still in high school when the twenty four year old Charles Mouton had smiled at her. Helen had horrible acne, and a buck toothed smile; boys, men didn't smile at her. He'd swept her off her feet, then had cursed angrily when they discovered that Helen was pregnant.

Thirty years and three kids later, Helen had put on a few pounds. At least her skin had cleared up, and bulky, painful orthodontic braces had straightened out her smile.

But after thirty years together, Charles still knew how to hurt Helen. She smiled tightly, not wanting Charles to know he'd struck home with that taunt.

"Oh, and, uh, Thunder Thighs? Seen YOUR ass lately?" Helen mocked.

Daniel Eisenbach, an attorney with Coutre & Associates represented Charles in the divorce. Trevor was a skilled attorney, and fought quite hard for his client.

For Trevor, it was personal. Charles Mouton had made a pass at Stephanie, Trevor's wife. Charles had even put his left hand on Stephanie's right breast. Charles tried to pass it off as a joke when he was confronted. But Trevor wasn't laughing.

"And, your Honor," Trevor pointed out. "My client had been a stay at home mother until four years ago, when she began working part time at St. Elizabeth's Public Utilities, in their Cancellations department."

"Oh? So you're the one cut my electricity off that one time I was late?" Judge Jesse Johnson smirked.

"She's sincerely sorry for that, your Honor," Trevor smiled.

"I'm sure she is," Judge Johnson said, smiling. "Mr. Eisenbach? Your client is asking that no spousal support be granted? According to this, Mrs. Mouton works twenty hours a week, at seventeen an hour."

Charles again was livid when Judge Jesse Johnson slammed his gavel down. Half of his 4O1K plan was to be awarded to Hellen Mouton. Half of the home's value would be awarded to Helen Mouton, along with half the value of the furnishings.

"But you're taking the furniture out of Deborah's room," Charles shrilled.

"It was my mother's furniture, Charles," Helen retorted over Judge Johnson's gavel hammering for silence.

"What kind of fucking lawyer are you, you God damned fruit loop?" Charles screamed at his attorney when he realized just how expensive a divorce truly would be.

Truthfully, Helen was happy to be leaving the two story home. Since the children had all moved out, the large home was more trouble than it was worth. The structure had been a fifteen year old home when Charles had bought it, and twenty six years later, more and more things were starting to break, and it always needed to be cleaned, dusting and vacuuming and mopping and scrubbing.

Helen bought a small two bedroom, two bathroom older home in Kimble, Louisiana. Through Trevor, she gave half of her settlement to an investment counselor, and the other half she put into her home, and into herself.

The single pane windows were replaced with triple pane energy-efficient windows. The window AC units and the gas space heaters were replaced with a new central air unit and a heat pump. After the duct work was put into the attic, the entire attic was sprayed with insulation.

Shapes Wellness Center helped Helen whittle off the nearly fifty pounds motherhood, and age had tacked onto her frame. Then, Shapes Wellness Center's Dance Aerobics classes and Shapes Wellness Center's Yoga classes helped Helen firm up her new body.

A visit to T. Dayton's Salon gave Helen an updated hairstyle, one that suited her new slimmer face and physique.

Driving right past Bargain Bin, Helen pulled into the parking lot of Babbage's Department store and spent a few thousand dollars on a new wardrobe to go with her new figure and new hairstyle.

Jack Hebert, the head of St. Elizabeth's Public Utilities Accounting department did notice the changes in Helen's appearance, and in her attitude and asked if she'd consider switching to his department, as an administrative assistant. It would be a full-time position, with full benefits, and would mean three dollars and fifty cents more an hour.

*.*

Friday morning, Helen Mouton sat at her small kitchen table, lovingly running a fingernail over an old nick in the wood. The table had been her grandmother's; had been passed down to a cousin. That cousin had passed away, and his wife had called Helen and asked if she wanted the old table and the four chairs. Helen had wasted no time in claiming the heirloom.

The nick, Helen could not remember a time that the table had not had that nick. The deep scorch mark on the left edge, Helen vaguely remembered when her Aunt Dinah, Uncle Doug's wife had placed a hot pot directly onto the table. Her grandmother had screamed in outrage and Aunt Dinah stormed out of the house, vowing never to return.

Nadine and Brandon's wedding had been wonderful. When asked what had become of Kenny, Nadine gave her usual vague reply. But Brandon Hollingsworth seemed to be a fine young man. He certainly was a doting father to his adorable little girl, Victoria.

Helen smiled as she remembered how frumpy Charles had looked at the wedding; how uncomfortable he had looked in the snug tuxedo. Charles Mouton had looked every bit of his fifty seven years of age, and then some.

And when Charles had seen Helen, in her form fitting dress, his eyes had lingered. Then his eyes had opened wide in recognition.

"Yes, yes, a good investment, if I do say so myself," Helen smirked, cupping her new double D breasts.

She finished her cup of yogurt and her bowl of grapefruit, pineapple and banana medley and got to her feet.

The dishes went into the dishwasher and she started the appliance. Then she stepped out into the muggy August morning and hit the key fob of her new Ford Edge.

It was a short drive to work. Helen wished there were sidewalks, or even a bike trail along the sides of Highway 19; she'd love to walk to work, or even ride her new mountain bike to her job. But Highway 19 wasn't wide enough to chance walking or biking without the sidewalks or bike trail.

Turning on her computer at work, Helen glanced at the date, then did a double take. She squinted, confirming that she'd read the date correctly.

"Huh," she said, sitting back, mouth open.

Then she got to her feet and walked into Jack's office. He pretended to be upset, pretended there was far too much work, there were not enough people, then approved her request for a week off.

"Any wild plans?" Jack asked genially.

"None yet," Helen admitted. "I just realized ten minutes ago that I'm about to turn fifty. I haven't even had time to make any plans."

Finishing her day, Helen made sure everything was in its place before leaving. She drove to Shapes, still wondering what she would do to celebrate the big Five Oh.

Entering the room with the exercise machines, Helen almost apologized, turned and walked out. Then she brazenly entered. The two girls hastily broke their kiss, blushed, then scampered out of the room.

Helen pushed herself hard, cooled down, then went to her Yoga class. Again, the two girls looked at her, blushed, then stoically avoided eye contact with Helen as the instructor put them through their movements.

"Okay, that's number one," Helen thought as she stepped into the shower.

She scrubbed her body. Then she pulled a tube of lotion from her locker and dutifully applied the moisturizing cream to her body. Looking down, she saw that several strands of gray had begun to invade her thatch of dark pubic hair.

"No. THAT'S number one," Helen thought.

She dressed again, nodded to one of the two girls, smiling pleasantly, and left the locker room.

At Super One Foods grocery store, Helen found the 'Health&Beauty Aids' aisle and carefully studied the choices. Deciding that this was nothing to scrimp on, she selected the most expensive kit and carried it to the counter. The pimple faced girl giggled, but rung the purchase up, announced the amount and wished Helen a good day, even though it was nearly nine at night.

At home, Helen again read the directions, using her drugstore reading glasses. She did not want to leave anything to chance. Then she prepared the kit.

"Jesus! Fucking! Christ!" Helen screamed as the tape jerked out her bushy thatch of pubic hair.

She cringed as she reached down for the second strip. Sweat had beaded on her forehead and she shook slightly but steeled herself. She could not very well walk around with only half of her pussy hairless, now could she?

"Oh! Holy Mother, that really hurts! Shit!" Helen screamed, ripping out the thick thatch.

"Oh. This was not a good idea," Helen sobbed as she then ripped out the strands of hair that dotted her anus. "Not at all."

The lotion included in the kit did soothe the raw skin. And, looking in her bathroom mirror, Helen did agree, her pussy looked cute without that thick mass of hair covering it.

Then, fixing herself a tall vodka and tonic, Helen sat at her kitchen table to check the next item off of her lists of wants, wishes and regrets. She giggled, feeling quite naughty when her naked buttocks came in contact with the cool wooden seat.

She sat, dressed in only short sleeved silk blouse and bra and took a calming sip of her vodka drink. Her laptop computer fired up and she logged onto the Internet.

She found a web site that claimed to have free personal advertisements. With a guilty look around, Helen clicked on the link for women seeking other women and looked around again.

Once, Helen and Annette, another unpopular student at DeGarde High School had kissed. Annette had pressed her thin lips to Helen's full lips and then she had opened her mouth. Helen had licked Annette's tongue, had moaned when Annette's chubby hand had grasped one of Helen's breasts.

Then, suddenly, Helen was married. And a few months later, Helen was a mother. She had shoved the memory of that hurried, frightened kiss out of her mind as she set about to be the best wife to Charles Mouton and the best mother to Deborah Mouton.

Helen scrolled through several postings. Most were young; she told herself they were far too young to ever be interested in a grandmother. The few that were in her age range, though, were very unattractive. Helen had never posted a personal ad, but she would assume that the people that did the postings would try to put one of their most attractive photographs with their ads.

There was one for a woman in her late thirties. Reading her prose, Helen felt a small glimmer of excitement. But clicking on the profile caused a request for Helen's credit card to pop on the screen.

"What? Says these are free," Helen grumbled.

Then she saw the fine print. Reading the ads were free. Posting a response to an ad, however required Helen to be a member of the service. And membership was $49.95 for a six month membership, $89.95 if she signed up for a year.

Helen could easily afford the $49.95 six month's membership fee. But, she was mortified that one of her children might read that charge on her credit card slip as they went through her papers after her death. What would they think, finding out that their mother had gone onto a Personals Dating site?

"Well, shoot," Helen said out loud as she closed that web site.

Idly, she touched her bare pussy. A small shiver went through her as she sat. She was being naughty, sitting at her kitchen table, bare from the waist down.

"Too naughty to just give up like that," Helen thought as she did a search for other dating web sites.

An alternative dating site caught her attention, but Helen was still too timid to click the link. Then she saw that the local university did have an on-line newspaper. The small link had 'Classified' highlighted as a match for Helen's search criteria.

"Oh, but those are just college kids," Helen thought as she clicked the link.

The section of women looking for other women had quite a few young, fresh faced college aged kids listed. Again, there were a few older women with profiles, but Helen shuddered at their words. Each of these three forty-somethings women were actually into something called BDSM and were looking for slaves.

Helen was about to click the 'X' in the upper right hand corner and just give up when she saw a smiling red head's photograph. The girl's smile was such a wide, happy smile that Helen couldn't help but smile.

Reading Joelee's words actually caused Helen's heart to thump in her chest. Helen realized that her pussy had actually grown wet as she read Joelee's claim that 'Beauty is ageless. I'm looking for an older woman to become friends with first, lovers second.'

"Oh, but you are perfect!" Helen squealed.

Then Helen laughed at herself for squealing. She finished reading Joelee's profile, frowning at the fact that the red head was only nineteen years of age, but then shrugged.

"Friends first," Helen reminded herself, clicking on the link.

She was directed to create a profile. Helen carefully did so. She rummaged through her files, and finally selected one of the photograph of herself at Nadine's wedding.

After posting the profile to the member's site, Helen then carefully crafted a response to Joelee's profile. She was honest; she was about to turn fifty, the big five oh, and had never experienced another woman's touch, another woman's kiss.

"But you said you are looking to be friends first, and you can never have too many friends, can you?" Helen typed.

After sending the response, Helen gulped the last of her drink. She turned off her computer, turned off the kitchen light, made sure the side door was securely bolted, checked both front and rear doors, then went to her bedroom.

Helen pulled out her trusty vibrator, marveling that tonight, she did not need any lubricant. And, her newly waxed flesh was extremely sensitive to the touch. Within moments, her sleek little bullet vibrator had Helen Grunting in orgasm.

"Hi! OMG; what a beautiful, classy woman you are," Joelee had responded.

Helen read the reply as her coffee pot gurgled. She poured a cup of coffee, grabbed the protein bar out of the pantry and sat at her table again.

Again, she read Joelee's reply, noting that the reply had come only twenty nine minutes ago. Perhaps Joelee Johnson was still on-line.

As meticulous as ever, even as her mind was screaming for her to hurry, hurry before Joelee grew bored of waiting, Helen crafted her reply. Her heart thudded as she included her telephone number in her response.

"Is my, oh my, I'm wet!" Helen groaned.

Helen actually screamed out loud when her cell phone rang a moment later. Trembling, she reached over and plucked the phone out of her purse.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hi! Helen? Hi, this is Joelee," a soft, warm voice gushed.

And in mere seconds, the two were chatting like old friends. Looking at the clock on her oven, Helen saw that it was still quite early.

"I uh, I'd like, would you like to meet up, um, Saladelight? For lunch?" Helen asked.

"I uh, Helen, I, I'm a college student," Joelee confessed. "Saladelight? Way out of my price range."

"And well within mine," Helen assured the girl. "Eleven thirty? Beat the lunch rush?"

"It's a date," Joelee enthused. "Oh! I am so super excited! I can't wait to meet you!"

Helen rushed through her breakfast. Then she forced herself to slow down, take the time to do her yoga movements. Then, she showered.

Helen had to remind herself, they were just meeting for lunch. She selected a soft blouse and a pair of jeans. On her feet, she put a pair of sandals, making sure that her toenails were polished, no chipped paint.

Over the phone, Joelee had been warm, friendly, bubbly. In person, those traits were magnified. She was also quite complimentary of Helen's beauty, her grace and elegance.

Helen stood five feet, two inches and weighed one hundred and twenty four pounds. Her brown hair was done in a flattering bob and her makeup was impeccable.

Joelee Johnson stood five feet, five inches and weighed one hundred and twenty four pounds. Her carrot orange hair hung to her waist and she wore it loose, parted in the middle. Her hazel eyes glittered with happiness as she met Helen.