I know I am a dirty old man, but I don’t give a shit. I can afford it and nobody gets hurt. Hell, most of the women liked the money and some of them actually enjoyed the rest of it.
Like the last time. I advertised for a live-in housekeeper/nurse/companion. I must have interviewed at least 10 women before I settled on Rochelle. She was (or at least so she said) a 39-year-old, recently widowed, housewife. She was a graduate nurse who got married as soon as she finished nursing school and, because she got pregnant right away, only worked at her profession for a few months. Now her husband was gone, her daughter was away in school and she needed money to take care of the outstanding bills her husband’s illness left. She also needed something to keep her for a year or so while she attended evening refresher courses three times a week at the local college to get re-certified as a nurse.
She wasn’t pretty but she was certainly cute, small in statue, short curly black hair, brown eyes and a smile that made you feel good if she happened to flash it in your direction. I should mention that she had a killer figure with breasts that looked to be just exactly a mouthful.
Anyway, here I was, a horny, crippled old man, well over 50 with lots of money who needed an attendant. Although I could walk a little with crutches, I usually used a wheelchair indoors because my knee and hip hurt so much when I walked. I really didn't need a nurse but I had to have someone to help around the house, prepare my meals and, what the hell, everybody can use a little TLC now and then. Like I said, I am old and crippled but not blind or castrated.
She wasn’t working anywhere and she was staying with her sister so we settled that she would move in with me the very next day. Her brother-in-law, Greg, helped her move a few boxes and some clothes with his SUV. I got the distinct impression he was relieved to have her settled somewhere other than his house and the feeling was mutual on her part.
Greg had hardly left when she said, “OK big boy, what’s first? Dinner or your massage?”
“I would rather not hurry the massage so lets do dinner first. Since you have had a busy day, I thought we could order some take out or a pizza. Which would you prefer?”
We settled on some delivery Chinese, sweet and sour pork with fried rice. We had a couple of highballs while we waited for the food. When it finally arrived, she wasn’t opposed to a little red wine so we killed a bottle of merlot. By the time dinner was over, I was mellow and she was more than a little tipsy, laughing at my jokes and giggling a lot. Somewhere along the line, she became beautiful.
When I suggested it was time for my massage, she smiled suggestively and said, “Are you sure you are ready for me? Go in and I will be there in a minute, or do you need help getting undressed?”
I really could have used some help but I thought it would be better not to push it at this time. “No, I’m fine.”
In my bedroom I stripped, lay face down on the bed and covered my ass with the sheet. Then I began to wonder what she meant by the crack ‘Are you sure you are ready for me?’ Visions of erotica took over my mind and by the time I heard her coming I was very aroused. I turned my head away as I felt her sit on the edge of the bed.
“JESUS CHRIST!”
“What’s the matter, big boy?”