I guess it's a man thing. Apparently men think about sex every seven seconds. I think that's a lot. I would think on average it's probably more like seven times a day but I suppose it depends on the woman you're looking at that sparks off the thought. Or not, as the case may be.
You know what it's like, right? You see a woman for the first time and you think...yeah, she's worth one...or...I could show you a good time if you'd let me. You imagine yourself with her, possibly even taking her multiple times!
But you know it's fantasy. You know that even if by chance you actually met, there's no way she would entertain you. What on earth would possess a young nubile woman in her twenties to want a fifty year old man. Unless she's a gold digger of course and she finds out that you're extremely wealthy.
Perhaps I'd better explain myself and the reason for my ramblings. My problem was that I'd just clapped eyes on my fantasy. She was a young blonde bombshell probably in her mid twenties and I can absolutely guarantee you that every seven seconds after I first clapped eyes on her I definitely thought about having sex with her. I can also tell you that I am not a wealthy man and that she was no gold digger.
To say she was stunning would be to do her a disservice. She wasn't a classic beauty by any means. Her nose was too big for one thing but she made up for it in other ways. Wavy blonde hair that cascaded down to reach the top of her breasts framed an oval shaped face from out of which smouldered the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen. Her thin eyebrows were perfectly arched across her forehead and were real, not the thick, fake, pencilled on type. Her mouth was perhaps a bit too wide but her lips were full and pouty looking and were a deep red. It was a lipstick colour I approved of.
She could never be classed as petite and I couldn't make out much of her body shape as we were outside and as it's winter she was wearing a thick woollen overcoat. But I saw enough curvature in the coat to give me an idea of what treasures lay beneath.
What I could see however, was the curve of that part of her stocking covered legs that peeked out from below her coat and I have to say they looked divine especially as she was wearing what looked like 4" heel shoes.
I leaned back against the wall and followed her with my eyes. She was talking animatedly with various groups of people and I caught glimpses of her flashing white teeth as she smiled. It was a nice smile, very open, very warm, very genuine. I liked her already.
I let out a deep sigh. Oh well, it was just one of those occasions when you see someone but you know she's totally unobtainable. Still it's good to fantasise.
I tore my eyes away from her for a second and scanned the group of people looking for my ex wife.
I didn't really want to see her but I thought it only fit and proper that I pass on my condolences at the passing of her Aunty Betty. I knew she would be upset as she had a real soft spot for Betty but then so did I. She was probably the only one of my wife's; sorry, ex wife's relatives to have a good word to say about me.
The divorce, when it finally came and it had been coming a long time, was acrimonious to say the least. So much so that I'd been stopped from seeing my kids.
We'd been really young when we got married, probably too young and at that time in my life I'd turned into a right selfish bastard so it hadn't bothered me too much. Let them get on with it were my thoughts on the matter.
I hadn't exactly wallowed in self pity over the years but over time as you mature you begin to realise that perhaps you did things wrong. Time is a great healer, so they say. Another fact I'm not convinced about.
It had been well over ten years or more since the divorce had been finalised and I had left their lives. My son had been around eleven or twelve I think, I couldn't remember exactly and my daughter two years younger. They were adults now. I wondered if I'd be able to recognise them. Hell, for that matter I wondered if I would recognise my ex wife.
Oh...yeah...I would! There she was talking to the vicar who had conducted Aunt Betty's funeral. She didn't look much different. I pushed myself off the wall and threaded my way through the mourners towards her.
She looked up and saw me approaching. I couldn't tell by the look on her face if she was happy or mad to see me. Probably a combination of the two.
"Hi Judy," I said as I reached her, "I'm so sorry about Betty. I really liked her and I know you're going to miss her a lot. I hope you're not upset that I came."
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. "Hello John," she answered, "no, thank you for coming, it was most thoughtful."
I thought her response was stiff and formal. Well, what did I expect. She wasn't going to collapse into my arms any time soon. Not that I wanted her to because I didn't. That ship had sailed long ago.
I noticed the vicar edging away. He was clearly picking up the muted hostility that still sparked between Judy and me.
"No need to go vicar, I was just leaving. I just wanted to pay my respects and offer my condolences to Judy. I'll be going now." I turned to walk away.
"Jonnie." Judy's word stopped me in my tracks. "It really was good of you to come." Her voice seemed softer now. "We're having a get together at the rugby club, you know, to celebrate Aunt Betty's life, if you'd like to come along."
I hesitated. Should I or shouldn't I? That was the question. Oh why not. It was about time I reconnected with my family.
"Okay then. Thank you, I'd like that. I'll see you there." I turned and ran slap bang into Miss Sex on Legs as I'd decided to call her. I instinctively put my hands out and grasped her arm. She felt warm and soft.
"Oh sorry," she said with a breathless smile that just swept over me. "I didn't see you, I'm so sorry." She flashed that big smile again and I nearly crumbled at her feet.
"That's okay," I mumbled, "probably my fault anyway, not looking where I'm going."
She looked at me, a half smile still on her lips. She then glanced at my ex wife and then back to me.
"Judy...is it..?" She looked over to my ex, a quizzical frown etched on her pretty face. "It's not...is it?"
Judy sighed. "Yes it is." She turned to me as she took hold of the blonde bombshell's arm and turned her to face me as well. "Jonnie, this is Hayley. Hayley; Jonnie...John; my ex."
I looked bemused as if it should mean something to me.
Judy obviously realised my predicament.
"Hayley is Matt's wife," she announced. "They've been married for about eighteen months."
I stood there with my mouth wide open. The blonde bombshell was married! To my son?
