Chapter 2
After twenty years of marriage, suddenly being left alone was one of the most traumatic events Carole had to weather in her life. Ralph's departure had come suddenly, without warning.
They hadn't argued or fought over money or sex or any of the usual reasons a marriage fails. One day he was there, the next day he was gone. Along with a foxy, twenty-year-old blonde who, not surprisingly, looked a lot like Carole when she was twenty. His attempt to recapture his youth through a young woman cost him a bundle. Totally infatuated with his new playmate, he paid willingly.
About a month after her gallant husband folded his tent and slinked away in the night, Carole began to look for something to do. Sitting at home wasn't the answer. She interviewed for several jobs, and ran into the age block. At 45, she was too old. The people who interviewed her went through the motions and said all the right things to avoid a charge of age-discrimination, then told her that she was overqualified.
Which was pure bullshit. She had no marketable skills to speak of. Unless she wanted to peddle pussy. When she put her mind to it, she had moves in bed that would drive men wild.
She didn't want to work for someone else anyway. She saw an ad in the classifieds for a small gym and called the real estate company the next day. She looked at the place, hired an accountant and a lawyer, and put together the deal. The place wasn't making money. She didn't care. She had nothing else to do but whip it into shape.
Two months after she bought it, the gym began to turn a small profit. She attributed that to one significant change she made. The previous owner did not allow men and women to use the facilities at the same time. She extended the closing time to midnight and opened it up for anyone to use at anytime.
The morning after her unsatisfactory encounter with Roger, she arrived at the gym earlier than usual. She hadn't slept well and had a bundle of nervous energy to work off.
She went to her office, changed into leotards and tights, and went into the gym. She paused to watch a young man working out on one of the machines. Sweat covered his muscular body, making him look as if he'd been oiled. Something about him, about his body, stirred her deep down inside. Her pussy fluttered and moistened.
She blushed, even though the young man wasn't paying any attention to her and no one else was around. Even if there had been, how would they know what was happening deep inside her pussy? She started to move on, changed her mind, and stayed to watch a while longer. She knew she shouldn't let such a young man make her giddy. She was old enough to be his mother. A forty-five-year-old woman certainly wouldn't interest him. Not with all those hard young female bodies running around in skimpy outfits, damned nearly showing off everything they had to offer.
She stayed and watched anyway, and started a debate with herself:
You know why he attracts you. Ralph ran off with a younger woman, so you want to play tit for tat and see what it's like to fuck a younger person.
Nonsense! I've lost interest in sex.
No, you've only lost interest in sex with men your own age. You can't know how you feel about fucking a younger man until you do it. Look at the bulge in his pants. He looks well-endowed, doesn't he? Can't you just imagine how his strong young cock would feel? He would probably stretch your pussy a lot more than Ralph or Roger. Or any of the men you've fucked since Ralph left you.
Daydreams! He's too young. He isn't interested in an old woman.
You 're no older than you feel. And you don't feel old, do you? You could take ten years off your age, and no one would know.
"Morning, boss lady."
Carole almost jumped out of her skin. Only Lela, the beautiful young black woman who taught aerobics called her boss lady. "Hello, Lela," she said without turning. "You startled me. I thought I was all alone."
Lela walked up by Carole. She chuckled and winked knowingly. "Quite a hunk, isn't he?"
"Who is he?" The question popped out before Carole could think.
"Jordan Howard. Jordy. Not bad, but a little rough around the edges. He needs a sexy woman with time on her hands to teach him. You interested?"
"I'm old enough to be his mother." Carole blushed again, cursing herself for getting into this predicament. She got into jams so easily, and got out of them with so much difficulty.
"So? If I were a man, your age wouldn't bother me a bit. You're one hell of a sharp-looking lady." Lela licked her lips, an unconscious habit she had when she saw something that looked tasty. "Come to think of it, the fact that I'm not a man doesn't really make any difference."
"What do you mean, he's a little rough around the edges?" Carole couldn't believe that she was still doing it! After what Lela had just said, at that. The girl certainly sounded as though she was making a pass.
"Oh, well, he just sorts of dives into your pussy right away. No foreplay. No finesse. But then I guess most men are that way, aren't they? I mean, not very many of them know how to eat pussy. And they don't give much thought to what a woman needs or wants. They just want to satisfy themselves and be done with it. Have you found that to be true?"
"Uh, some of the time. I really haven't had that much experience, Lela, so I can't say what most men are like."
"Women aren't that way, though," Lela continued, as if she hadn't heard a word Carole said. And maybe she hadn't.
"Now that I really wouldn't know!" Carole avoided Lela's gaze and looked at Jordy Howard again. She wanted to look at her watch, see how long before Lela's class started, but didn't want to appear rude. "I've been an old married woman for twenty years, Lela. Well, until recently anyway."
"Yeah, I heard." Lela licked her lips again. "That doesn't make any difference. Not that I've ever been able to tell. Listen, I've got to run. Class starts in five minutes. You going to be here all day?"
"I suppose so. Don't know of anything else I have to do."
"Let's get together later. Okay? Maybe do lunch. We.. .I'd like to get better acquainted."
Carole nodded, trying to avoid the issue. This girl was coming on to her! What in the world was she supposed to do now? "I'm not sure about today. Let's leave it open, okay?"
She gave Lela a smile and resumed her tour of the gym. Lela's advance didn't shock her. She wasn't that naive. She knew a couple of women who went exclusively for other women, and a couple who went for both men and women. She supposed Lela went both ways, since she knew about Jordy's unpolished technique. Took all kinds to make the world go round, after all. What others did was none of her business. In an oddball way, Lela had paid her a compliment.
Lost in thought, she banged into another body. She grunted and put her hands up to protect herself. She stepped back and murmured, "Sorry. Didn't know you were there."
"You seemed lost in thought," Jordy said.
"Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders?"
Carole smiled weakly and took another step back so she could look up at Jordy. About six feet tall, he towered over her. He wore his brown hair cut short. His brown eyes regarded her with a hint of amusement.
"What? Oh, no. I was thinking about something that just happened."
"I've seen you around a lot," Jordy said. "I've never seen you use any of the equipment. Isn't that why you come here? Want me to show you how to tone up your body and get it nice and hard?"
"No, thank you. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a woman. And I think women should be soft and rounded. In the right places, of course."
"I've noticed! Couldn't help but notice. That wasn't meant as an insult, by the way."
"I didn't take it that way. Well, see you around. Don't exercise too hard. Save some energy for other things." Carole started to walk away.
"Hey! You didn't tell me who you are and why you come here."
"My name's Carole. Carole Browner. I own the place." She walked away before Jordy could respond.
At the door of her office, Carole paused and looked around. Jordy was gone. She saw Bette Jackson coming from the pool, rubbing her long black hair with a towel.
Bette was a five-foot, 100-pound pixie. The bra of her bikini barely covered her saucy little tits. The bottom wasn't much more than a ribbon.
The thought that Bette had to keep her bush well-trimmed flitted through Carole's mind, unbidden and surprising. Anything wider than two fingers would show. Did her husband trim it for her, or did she do it herself?
Carole had never thought of such a thing before. She had known Bette for over five years, had seen her many times in her swimsuit. Why did she wonder about her bush now? Bette walked with a lithe, sensuous grace that she envied. like a jungle cat, stalking her prey. For the first time, the woman's sexual aura struck her right between the eyes.
Bette wrapped the towel around her long hair and twisted it. "Hi, Carole," she said, flashing a bright smile.
"You're out early, Bette. Thought you were a woman of leisure."
"George wants me to be. He expects me to sit home on my ass and wait for him to notice me. I have to get away from all that once in a while. Do you have any idea how boring such a life can be?"
"Sure. I used to do the same thing."
"Yeah, but had your man at home at least once in a while."
"And now I don't have him at all. Life is full of ironic twists, isn't it?" Carole opened the door to her office and gestured with her hand. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Got anything stronger?"
Carole arched one eyebrow. "This early in the morning?"
"Why the hell not? Makes the time pass faster."
"More-likely it blurs everything so you don't know how slowly it really passes."
"That, too. But I don't care. I'm so fucking bored, I could scream." Bette plopped down in a chair and continued to dry her hair.
Carole couldn't help looking at the woman's crotch. She guessed she could cover the cloth between Bette's legs with three fingers. Three of her small fingers. The damp material outlined the shape of Bette's pussy lips. She blushed and quickly averted her eyes. A slight shiver ran down her spine. What was she doing?
"You're not an alcoholic, are you, Bette?" Carole asked, her voice conveying genuine concern. "I'm not prying or preaching, but.. . . "
"No, Carole. I'm okay. I've been awake since four this morning. Had breakfast, a big, trucker's breakfast, about six. As far as my body is concerned, it's about noon. I could use a Bloody Mary or a Screwdriver."
"Screwdriver coming up." Carole busied herself making the drink, keeping her back to Bette. "You've been coming here a lot lately. I might have to give you some kind of discount."
"I don't need money. How about introducing me to one of those young hunks who hang around here, flexing their muscles and showing big bulges in their pants? Do you know any of them?"
"Only one. Lela told me the name of one this morning. Are you serious?" Carole handed the drink to Bette, got herself a cup of coffee, and sat in a chair across from the woman.
"Hell, I don't know! I'm tempted to say yes, and scared to do so. Maybe I ought to find myself a nice young woman. No one would suspect anything."
"Bette! You can't be serious! You're a married woman. What about George?"
"Carole, you live in a damned dream world! George spends his time chasing dollars. Says he's just trying to give me the kind of life I want and deserve. That's a fucking hoot! What I want, what I need and deserve, is a nice steady diet of sex! Do you have any idea how long it's been?"
"Uh, no, Bette, I haven't. Are you sure you that you want me to know?"
"Why not? Shit, I have to talk to somebody before I go out of my fucking mind!" She held out her empty glass. "Got another of these?"
Carole fixed a fresh drink and handed the glass to Bette. She began to pace slowly, trying to avoid Bette's eyes.
"Oh, for God's sake, sit down," Bette said. "You make me nervous walking around that way."
"You make me nervous talking that way. I'm not sure I want to know all this, Bette."
"Well, do me a favor and listen anyway. I don't have anyone else I can talk to. Don't feel that you have to respond. Just listen."
"I'll try, Bette, but this is so personal."
"George doesn't have the slightest idea what he's doing. Do you know that? No, of course you don't. You don't know him the way I do. He seems to think that I expect him to make half of the money in the world! Hell, we could get along just fine with about half of what he makes. I don't want all of that damned money! I want attention! Loving. Fucking. I don't even remember what his cock looks like, for God's sake, let alone what it feels like. And now, to top it all off, I think he's fucking some little floozy from the office."
"Oh, Bette, I'm so sorry! Are you sure? You don't want to jump to conclusions about something like that."
"You should know how I feel. I'm not sure, but all the signs are there. She's one of the secretaries. You know what I think? I think he just needs to get off once in a while, and she's handy. No pun intended. I sit at home, wishing and waiting, while he has this girl just for sex. She can't do anything for him that I can't do. And won't do. Shit, I'd do anything he wanted. All he has to do is ask. But she's right there at the office all the time, and I'm miles away, across town. Why doesn't he just jack off if he needs to cum so badly? It just ain't fair, dammit!"
"Life is seldom fair, Bette. But platitudes don't help, do they?"
"No! What would help is a strong dose of good sex. Sucking and fucking and all kinds of kinky action! God! My mind goes wild and my pussy gets all sloppy and hot just thinking about it!" Bette leveled a hard gaze at Carole. "Are you exclusively heterosexual, Carole? Do you ever stray across the line?"