What is it about a rich, older, mysterious man that makes women do things they never thought they would? At 21 I met a man 35 years old, an amazing tennis player at the private club I bartended nightly. Nothing about him physically was I attracted to in the beginning, he had a cute baby face even though he was many years my elder, but that was as far as I was attracted. I was a girl used to young, strong, sexy, egotistical men, more often than not black and womanizing. A blonde, white, dorky and slightly over-weight man never crossed my mind as being the most passionate, drug induced lover I’d ever have.
The first night I spent alone with him at his house we laid on the couch in front of a fireplace while the harsh winter brewed outside. We drank a bottle of wine, smoked a joint watched sports center and discussed my life. I’ll never forget the first touch of his hands to my face, they were the softest fingers I’d ever felt caress my body. The magic of his touch to my constantly desiring body made me tremble with desire, fear and curiosity. Even his house turned me on to a point that is unexplainable, this magnificently gorgeous home with the most expensive furniture and art I had ever seen seemed like a refuge from the life I lived as a struggling college student.
I remember the first time he held my hand and walked me down the hall to his master suite, an enormous king size sleigh bed that cost more than my car sat in the middle of the room taunting me. So many emotions and thoughts ran through my head, mostly how did I get myself to this point and how was I going to get myself out of it. Nothing about him personally scared me, just the thought of what I was about to do. He gently picked me up and laid me across his bed as he slowly unbuttoned my shirt and pants, skillfully he removed my clothing. Before I even realized, I was laying under his scrutinizing eyes, my thin, lace panties the only thing separating my body from his entire consumption. Everything he did to me that night with his mouth are far beyond words, I had never experienced so much skill, passion and grace from someone else’s tongue on my naive body. I had been with many men but this was something I was so unprepared for. The first moment his mouth touched me, I knew my desires and sexual passion would never be the same. He made me scream and quiver at the same time, I finally understood the passion of an older man, his experience made my multiple desires and past indiscretions seem like child-play.
This went on for a year, he moved a few hours away and every weekend he was home at his new condo in a foreign city, I was there by his side, on my back. We’d spend the entire weekend in his million dollar loft, ordering in food, drinking Goose on the rocks, smoking the best herb I had ever tasted in my life and having hot, unrestrained sex for hours on end. He’d wake in the morning to play tennis while I stayed hibernating in his sanctuary doing drugs and drinking, waiting for that moment when he’d walk back in the door and carry me to bed. This life I came to love. It did not matter that I knew he had other women there when I was gone. The little signs of their presence I’d push to the back of my mind, women’s conditioner and shampoo in the shower, an extra toothbrush in the bathroom and her cigarettes in the ashtray on the veranda. I knew who she was, I’d met her a few times before we began our affair. He had brought her in to the bar while I was working, I didn’t dislike her. She was a few years older than me, gorgeous, a professional woman who wasn't too unlike myself.
The sexiest part of his new loft was the bathroom, he had an amazing shower with a glass block wall that was visible from the rest of the house, when a spectator was in the living room or bedroom you could watch through the wall and see an erotic display. When I showered I disregarded the other woman’s personal items and concentrated on being a sexy woman, washing every inch of my body with passion and erotic desire. I’d come out of the bathroom in my towel, stand in front of the bed and purposely drop the towel in such a way that made him immediately hard. Although he knew his way around every crevice of my body with his tongue, I would use my youth, vitality and flexibility to do things to him that I knew no one else did. This was my way of making sure that I owned a part of him that she would never.
On the few weekends he returned home to where we first met, he would stay at a friend’s condo. This friend of his, Hal, knew about our relationship and respected our privacy. I would come over late at night after an evening of mixing drinks and flirting shamelessly with his friends. On the occasion he would come to the bar to drink with friends, we would steal away into an abandoned hallway, room or closet and ferociously kiss, ever so often he wound unbutton my pants or top rub his soft fingers over any part of my body he could, then disappear back to the bar. I’d continue to work and constantly catch his eyes staring at my ass or down my top as I waited on him and all of his married friends, only one of them, aside from the two of us, knowing of our scandalous relationship. On the nights he stayed with Hal, they would be beyond drunk and high when I arrived. I would spend the first thirty minutes trying to catch up to their level of intoxication and the next two hours talking and flirting with the both of them. On occasion other men would come by, those lucky few discovered this special relationship that Mr. Gold and I shared and they often were quite vocal in their jealousy and curiosity. Most of these men saw me on a daily basis, I’d waited on them and their wives, served them beer after an exhausting match with their fellow scandalous married friends, and listen to their marital woes while they stared at my breasts. But in my mind Mr. Gold is all I thought about. Oh, the nickname you wonder? Mr. Gold was just that, he was golden to me, something so precious I knew I would never know every ounce of him and it didn’t hurt that he was a gold trader. He worked in jewelry by profession, but this was something I never abused. I didn’t want tokens of his love through pieces of his work. That was too demeaning in my eyes. Just knowing I had a part of his heart and cock satisfied me to the point of ecstasy.
Hal was another story, a part of me often felt bad for him. He was the kind of man that you knew enjoyed his fair share of internet porn, yet seemed like a normal self-sufficient single man. At night when Mr. Gold and I would shut the door and give in to our many erotic desires I knew Hal was in the other room listening. I could see it in his eyes, he envisioned me naked and being his toy every time I walked into a room. I enjoyed this…maybe a little too much in fact. I truly enjoyed conversing with Hal, having someone to talk to who knew both Mr. Gold and me both, on personal, almost embarrassing levels. He’d keep me company as I would wind down from hours at work, even after my lover had gone to bed, we’d talk about my life, my work, my schooling; he’d come down to the level of a 21 year old co-ed just to be in my world. So I guess it’s no surprise that one day, down the road I’d have wild, amazing perverse and erotic sex with Hal. It took some time but after Mr. Gold relocated once again, this time 2,000 miles away, Hal and I made Mr. Gold’s worst nightmares a fantasy for the two of us.
These memories came flooding back to me this weekend when I received a text from Mr. Gold. Every so often, he will send me a message, more often than not centered around sex and every time motivated by his best friend, alcohol. Mr. Gold now lives three time zones away, is in a committed relationship and sidles up to an 11 year old that calls him dad. That doesn’t change him; however, he still wants me, the passion and deviance he affectionately refers to as, Kid. My name has never changed, not since the first time we made love, I am and forever will be “The Kid.” I love my nickname, it’s like a guarantee that no matter what he does or where ever he goes the word “kid” takes him back. Back to my arms in his amazing bed, where I lay naked craving him to make love to me once again before he walks out the door for an indefinite amount of time.
Some days I want to call Mr. Gold, tell him about the crazy nights I had with Hal (and a few of his other friends he knows nothing about,) just for the sheer fact I want to own him. I want to own his memories of me. No longer do I want him to think of me in an amazing sexual light, but instead I want him to hate me with a vengeance that is unfathomable to most. I want him to hate me, the same way I hate him for his years of making me the other woman, the happy family life he has now and the future we will never have together. Until that day comes, when I finally become so cold that I break the remaining pieces of his heart by telling him all of the naughty things I did to his friends, I imagine the life we’ll never have together, and then I pick up the phone and call Hal for one more good fuck.
Until again-
R
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