The papers arrived Friday, it was all official, I was a free man.
It was like my stay of execution had been approved by the governor, and it read like a Shakespearian play. "The petitioner is hereby granted a final divorce." The formality of the word alone, petitioner. Nate is granted a divorce, its Nate baby, I'm finally free! I laughed out loud.
I was enjoying my view from the 11th floor of my brand-new apartment. The city below was mine for the taking now, or at least all the single women in it. Life was good. Especially when I'd spent the past year living at my pussy whipped brothers house.
I love him dearly, but it was far from ideal. He was stuck in the same kind of "roommates" marriage I just got out of, only he didn't have the balls to become a "petitioner". It was selfish, but I was glad I didn't have to witness him suffer anymore.
With my newfound freedom, I decided it was about time to get back out there and see what my options were for finding a sex partner. I wasn't ready for a "girlfriend," or any kind of commitment. I was also aware after 20 years of missionary once a month, my skills weren't exactly sharp anymore.
The mirror wasn't as kind to me as it was 20 years ago either. I was reasonably fit, but my hairline was receding, and I wasn't that tall to begin with at 5'5. My body was average, and my desk job and genetics limited my masculinity. I kept myself well-groomed and dressed to compensate for it. I recently shaved off my beard in an effort to look younger, and bought some very modern clothes, just in case I actually got a date.
I knew the world had changed, and on-line was how people met these days. I wasn't a high-tech guy, but I managed to get tinder on my phone, and wrote a less than spectacular personal profile. It was a start. I spent lots of time swiping left and right, fascinated by the concept of looking at a woman's picture, and swiping right if I wanted to fuck her, and left if I didn't.
By the end of the first week, I had a few messages, but most were "hello" or "hey there" with nothing happening when I responded to them. I was starting to lose interest in the monotony of it all, when my phone beeped and there was a Tinder message, "Do you have a big cock?"
Initially, I went to delete it, but I wasn't getting a lot of interest, so I wanted to at least try a reply. The first problem is, I don't have a big cock. In truth is I am smaller than average, and I know it. I told women it was over 5 inches, because I had spent so much money trying to make it longer. I tried creams, pills, fancy lights, and even manual stretchers. In the end, I was just under 4 inches when I was rock hard and that would never change.
I found the message, and with nothing to lose I sent a simple reply, "no." Just to see what would happen.
To my surprise, I got an almost immediate response, "I want to meet."
I wasn't expecting a response, let alone an offer to meet. I clicked on her picture to have a better look at her dating profile. Her photo was reasonably sexy. She looked around 40 years old, with long dark hair. She wore black rimmed glasses that gave her a sexy librarian vibe, with deep red lipstick. It was a waist up photo, so not much more to go on, other than the opening in her blouse which showed she did have ample breasts.
Her dating profile was brief:
Elizabeth Missy. If you are boring, move on. Sex only, no commitment. Serial players and alpha males note I'm smarter than you, and not an insecure bimbo who needs to believe your lies. Unemployed, live with your mom or heavy drinker? I don't do losers. Size matters bigger isn't better, if you're man enough, I can prove it to you.
"Bigger isn't better?" I thought out loud. "I'd like to be way bigger."
I was intrigued now. I replied, "What did you have in mind?"
Within 15 minutes there was a reply, "Crown and Castle, 65 Smith at Main North, 8pm - Missy."
8pm? That's only an hour from now. I thought she must be really fucking horny! I googled the address, and it was 40 minutes away. I'd have to leave in soon if I wanted to make it. I thought about it, was I really going to run right over there on the strength of 2 short messages? I looked at her profile again. There was a chance I'd get my dick wet, better find my keys.
I got there in 35 minutes, my heart racing just like my car was on the way. I hadn't met a woman for sex in over 20 years, so I wanted to get there early. The bar was an elegant, traditional upscale British pub with tin ceilings and lots of oak. The tables were arranged like chess board pieces on a black and white tile floor. A huge bar dominated in the center. I looked around to see if Elizabeth was there already but didn't see her.
I sat at a table with a view of the door and ordered a beer. Looking at the clock it was 7:55, so I got out my phone and tried to waste a few minutes. 10 minutes later, I was starting to wonder, did I get the address wrong? I checked; I was at the right place.
20 minutes later I thought she must have been delayed, I sent her a message on tinder, no reply. 30 minutes later, I asked for my bill and prepared to leave. I felt so stupid for going there and letting myself become sexually frustrated so easily.
While chastising myself in my head for being so desperate, Elizabeth appeared at the door.
She was about 5'3 with dark hair in a ponytail. She was wearing a black leather jacket and skirt that accented her curvy but still very sexy body. Black pantyhose with a sparkle and deep red shoes finished the polished look. As she got closer, I recognized her black librarian glasses, and I stood up as she got to the table. I gestured to her seat and we both sat down.
She had great brown eyes and long lush eyelashes, and her lips were a deep red like her shoes. Her teeth were bright white, and she reminded me of Anne Hathaway when she smiled.
"Elizabeth, is it?" I asked.
"It is for now," she replied.
I wasn't sure what that meant, so I tried something else.
"You must have gotten delayed?" I spoke.
"No, I got here exactly when I should have," she replied.
I thought to myself, she's a fucking nut case. If she wasn't hot, I'd be out of here already.
"Why did you want me here so early?" I asked getting a bit impatient.
"To see if you would be here on time, and how long you would wait for me. Lots of men are unreliable, impatient or can't follow direction. If you respect me, do what I say and are prepared to wait, I'll give you all the sex you can handle," she replied.
She said it so confidently, I was temporarily speechless.
My mind was trying to understand what it all meant, but it was distracted by her saying "I'll give you all the sex you can handle." Did that mean she wanted sex with me now? I was hopelessly unprepared for a woman like this, so I just blurted it out, "Do you want to have sex?"
"That's why we're meeting isn't it, to have sex?" she replied, matter of fact.
Now my mind was swimming. Don't fuck this up I thought.
"Do you have somewhere we can go?" I asked.
"Aren't you going to by me a drink first? I'm not a whore." she said.
"Oh, sorry," I said sheepishly, "I'm not sure how this works."
"You mean don't know how to respect a lady?" she questioned.
"I'm divorced," I replied, immediately thinking what a stupid thing to say.
"It's easy to tell," she laughed, thankfully the waitress came to take our order.
I told the waitress, "I'll have a beer and?" I waited for Elizabeth to make her order.
Nothing.