Yvonne Maher was a fifty-one-year-old divorcee and Tom Haggerty was fifty two and a widower and they were both spending there latter middle years alone.
Neither of them had
children from their respective marriages and had no extended family to speak
of.
They also shared the
dubious honour of having dallied with younger lovers, much younger lovers.
Yvonne lived alone in a large detached
Georgian house in a well-heeled leafy corner of Shallowfield
Yvonne was
only just over fifty, but none the less she was the wrong side of that
particular milestone, but she wasn’t a lonely divorcee because Yvonne had a
wide circle of friends.
Tom Haggerty lived in a quaint Tudor cottage in a quiet suburb on the posh
side of Childean.
He was fifty-two years old and
recently widowed and immediately after his wife’s death he seemed to suddenly
appear on the radar of the local spinster’s, widows and divorcees in and
around his own age.
Tom had had a short
breathless affair with a 23-year-old yoga teacher which he ended.
But since being on his
own, truly on his own he had harked back to his youth and the days before his
six pack became victim to too many six packs.
His middle-aged physique
tended more towards the party seven than a six pack.
He also reflected on
his old girlfriends of the day with their firm buttocks, flat stomachs and
gravity defying breasts which stirred his loins in his lustful nostalgia.
Part of him wanted to
return to those carefree days of youth.
When all that teenage
sex was so wonderful, when he had such limited sexual experience, and so much
of the fun was in the learning.
All the reminiscing
left him with a certain longing, but he knew the past could not be relived or
recaptured.
At the same time Yvonne
had gone through a long exhausting affair with an estate agent 25 years her
junior.
And although he
stimulated every cell in her body with monotonous regularity for the sake of her
health and sanity she decided she would look after her own wants and needs and
kicked him into touch.
What she craved was
something he couldn’t give her.
She was looking for a
companion, a confidant and a friend and not just someone to bang her brains
out.
One of Tom’s biggest
gripes at having such a young girlfriend was the dullness of her pillow talk.
Wendy was born into a
generation that had so many means of communication at their disposal, yet she
still had nothing meaningful to say.
There was a lot to be
said for being with a woman who was wrinkle free and supple, but it was what
was said afterwards that he craved.
Yvonne was immensely
flattered at her age to attract the attentions of such a young lover, but the price
for such toe-curling sexual encounters was too high to pay.
What she longed for
was to be with someone with life experience, someone she could have a proper
conversation with in between the love making or even instead of it.
It didn’t have to be
deep and meaningful converse just a bit more intellectual than he said/she said.
What Tom and Yvonne
both wanted was someone they could talk too, not about anything earth
shattering, it could be as simple as a common history or shared knowledge,
someone who knew the name of the dragon in Ivor the Engine, or someone who
watched Brief Encounter and didn’t think it was funny, someone who had heard of
Biafra, Aberfan and the Torrey Canyon or remembered when there were only three
TV channels.
Someone who remembered
being able to play music at the wrong speed on a gramophone and who remembered
having to wait for the black and white TV set to warm up.
Just someone who
understood what the other was saying and wouldn’t stare vacantly at you when
you mentioned an event that happened pre-1990.
Both of them had put a
stop to their respective cradle snatching relationships and put their hopes in
something more age appropriate and eventually their wishes were answered one
day when a mutual friend introduced them to each other at a dinner party.
The friend was Lynn
Cooper who lived on Teardrop Lake, her daughter Jane did the cooking.
During the course of
the evening in between the main course and desert Tom leant over and asked
“Do you remember 8
track stereo?”
Yvonne smiled and
nodded and all at once realised the significance of the question.
They both got their
wish answered and they had their first date a week later which presented them
both with more concerns.
Whenever you reach a
certain age in life you will have acquired to a greater or lesser degree an
unfortunate body shape and gravity becomes your enemy and a simple mirror
becomes something to be avoided.
He never had doubts
when he was doing the horizontal jog with the widows and spinsters but this
time the image in the mirror dented his self-confidence, this time it mattered.
It was completely
irrational, after all it was the same out of shape middle-aged body that had
“Bendy Wendy” wetting her knickers all summer long.
His face had stood the
test of time and he was genuinely quite presentable for his age when dressed in
an expensive suit, it was just when he was out of it he was likely scare the
animals.
He really liked Yvonne
and he was hoping that would be reciprocated and he would get lucky and without
being conceited he was confident he could leave her satisfied, so to speak, he’d
made Wendy scream more than once.
If he got that far with
Yvonne, he was sure she wouldn’t regret it but his great fear was that he would
leave her disappointed with his natural appearance, she might have a more
refined palette.
He wanted to fulfil
his hope of soon reaching a level of intimacy with the not unattractive divorcée
Yvonne Maher.
Yvonne had been having
much the same internal discussion as she stood before her own mirror the only
difference was that she had been doing it for three hours longer.
Her body was in quite
good shape she hadn’t given birth or had a hysterectomy, so her body had not
reached the level of decline that some of her contemporaries had.
Plus, she had been put
through a long intimate summer workout by the gardening Estate Agent which had
kept her well limbered up.
Finally, she deemed
herself satisfied with the final look, she just hoped it would suffice for him.
She had high hopes of
Tom Haggerty, she was hopeful he might fill the hole in her life.
She sniggered at the
thought of him filling her hole as she dressed in her most flattering silk
undergarments complete with stockings and suspenders.
Yvonne had spent five
hours getting ready which involved applying endless lotions, potions, creams
and balms as well as expensive underwear.
And all the time she
was dressing she was imagining Tom undressing her.
And when she looked at
the final result of her efforts in the mirror, she had no doubts at that moment
she would get Tom into the bedroom but with everything removed she was worried
he might not want to go back for seconds.
The date went very
well, dinner at the Brown Windsor in Shallowfield and then back to Yvonne’s for
coffee.
The kiss came while
they waited for the kettle to boil and the moment their lips met Tom was more
concerned about bringing Yvonne to the boil.
They were both
strangely nervous, so Yvonne went upstairs on her own to prepare herself and
Tom followed ten minutes later and undressed quickly on the landing.
He slipped silently
into the semi darkness of the room and she was already in bed and he quickly
joined her.
Yvonne turned onto her
side as he got in and they cuddled up face to face, as his hands caressed her,
he found she was naked but for her lace topped stockings, and he liked that
very much.
They kissed then in
the semi darkness and Yvonne signalled her intent when she took hold of his
cock.
The kiss grew with
intensity as Toms hands sort out first her plump breast and then her welcoming
lips which opened like the petals of a flower and he frigged at her wetness as she
continued to play with his shaft until he rolled her onto her back.
As he climbed on board
her thighs parted obligingly and she gripped his cock once moor only this time
she guided it between her eager lips, and he slowly slid into her.
Yvonne held her breath
momentarily at the instance of penetration and then closed her eyes as she
leant her head back into the pillow and sucked in air through her teeth as she
received all of him.
She writhed beneath
him and moaned softly as her stocking clad thighs gripped him then she squirmed
as she reached that ecstatic point, the breathless hinterland between being
rooted to the ground and the gravity defying release of orgasm.
Tom looked down on her
as she softly moaned and writhed as she came with a deliciously sweet utterance
that briefly preceded his own climax.
“That’s more like it”
Tom said to himself as he withdrew from her and she let out a sigh.
And as they lay
cuddling in the afterglow Yvonne thought to herself
“That was very
acceptable”
They had made love for
the first time, and that was the difference, making love was so much nicer than
just having sex.
There may not have
been any risk of being orgasmed to the point of unconsciousness by Tom but
nonetheless the whole evening, particularly the last part of it was
“Very acceptable
indeed”
At the same time Tom was
thinking that while Yvonne may not have been as agile, pliable or have the same
stamina as a woman half her age, like Bendy Wendy, but Yvonne was just what he
was looking for.
And as they lay
breathless in the darkness, they had the most banal and trivial conversations
into the small hours and when they had finished instead of making love again
they just cuddled up and went to sleep.
There would be plenty
of time for more love making and many other interesting conversations.
