Fond Remembrance

As it was, I may have had more difficulty than she did. For her, our liaison was a way-stop on the road to maturity. It was something she planned and accomplished, on her schedule, for her purposes. Of course, I had been her mentor, and her male role model as she went through puberty. That counted for something, but at root, this was her doing, her plan, for her benefit. Did I mind? Are you kidding?

Anyway, we made good use of the two weeks we had. She had studied the technical, clinical aspects of sex, and I was a willing tool for her to experiment with the reality of it. We did it all. For her, much of it was getting to know what she liked and didn’t like. For me, I loved every minute, and reveled in it.

Our last day together before she had to leave was another revelation. Oh, we made love, all right, we fucked like rabbits, and I, old as I was then, was amazed at my drive and stamina. I was a stallion, a bull, a rutting boar, and she was wanton as the most depraved slut in creation.

At the end, she curled up in my arms, and cried like a baby. She consciously let go of the iron control she displayed from childhood, and let me see the little girl within. For a moment, she truly let me be her father-protector. My lustful feelings evaporated. She was my child, my baby, my little girl, and I was shielding her against the world.

But a corner of my mind sat back, chuckling sardonically. "Yeah, right, you horny old bastard, you’re lying here naked, holding this lovely young woman you just fucked to a fare-thee-well. Fatherly indeed." Nevertheless, the lust was gone, my feelings were genuine.

Then she sighed, and the strong-willed woman returned. She stretched, smiled a lazy-eyed, loving smile, and stroked my cheek. “Norman, you’ve given me a gift I’ll always cherish. I’ll never forget you Norman, I couldn’t. You’ve been my idol, my example, and my teacher, in all things. But I have to go.”

It was over. The page had turned, the chapter ended. She arose smiling, and we dressed. We shared one more embrace, and a straining, passionate kiss. Then she was gone.

She sent me her wedding announcement , with an intensely personal message. I still have it, and I had a notice of her graduation too. I heard she went on to get both a Masters and a Ph.D. Her mother moved away, so there was no more news until her recent visit.

I sighed, and came back to the present. Marge still looked like she was sucking on a lemon, while Molly watched me intently, a lascivious grin on her face. “Well, old man, you’ve been gone for awhile. You better let us in on where you’ve been.”

I just smiled, and shook my head.

I have to tell you about these two old broads. We live in one of those three-tiered retirement complexes, the kind where you have your own apartment until you disintegrate to the point where you need help. Then you move into assisted living, and when you fall apart completely, they ship you down the hall to the nursing home. After the last stop, they wheel you out on a gurney. It’s a good alternative, if you’re not into bothering your family to care for you, and you can still be independent without the hassle of yard work, cooking, and washing dishes.

The three of us are still active, still in our own apartments. I’m seventy-nine, Marge is seventy-eight, and Molly’s seventy-seven. We’re good friends. The girls live on either side of me. Molly’s as raucous and ribald as can be. Life’s a bowl of cherries for her. She’s up for fun of any kind, any time, and everything’s up front with her. What you see is what you get.

Marge is an enigma. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and she doesn’t like dirty talk, or bad language. She’s a real ice woman, and I sometimes wonder why she puts up with Molly and me. But once-in-awhile, she’ll zing you with a comment that makes you wonder if the rest is all a put-on. And there’s fire down below in that lady. I know. It’s hard to light, but it burns bright, and when it flares, it takes both Molly and me to put it out.

Our apartments have connecting doors. We’re all good friends, the doors stay open, we take care of each other, and we come and go as we please. We have some interesting private times in my apartment, too. Indeed, the one we had after dinner the day of Ann’s visit, was one all three of us will long remember. But that’s another story.