Forty Fucking Years Pt. 01

The Reunion...

The humidity was like liquid hell. The air seemed saturated with moisture suggesting the possibility of a cooling rain shower, but the puffy white clouds in the tropical azure blue sky showed no sign of offering that cool-down anytime soon. It was a hot, sticky summer day in the sparkling sunlight of South Florida.

The oppressive heat didn't faze Catt. Her life, as well that of most other people in Florida, was lived in air conditioned, super cooled spaces. She had cranked the air conditioning in her CRV to 'arctic' and it came blasting out of the vents directly on her, softly blowing her salt and pepper hair causing her pixy-cut bangs to be tousled.

The car radio was perpetually set to a soft rock station which played current hits, as well as her favorites from the rocking oldies of the '70s and '80s. Part of the fun having the windows closed, along with the cooled air, was the opportunity it allowed Catt to belt out the words to those favorite rockin' oldies. She had listened to the music for decades and knew the words by heart so she always sang along to the beat. Her tone and rhythm were close to pitch perfect, even if she occasionally missed the right word and mangled the lyrics a bit on some of the current top forty. Decades of blasting the radio at Mach decibels was probably taking a toll on her hearing, but Catt was in the zone and enjoying herself immensely, oblivious to her surroundings as she rolled to a stop at a red light.

She was emoting along with Taylor Swift to another breakup song, wiggling her ass in the bucket seat and bouncing and swaying her head and shoulders to the musical beat when out of the corner of her eye Catt noticed a car had pulled alongside hers and some kind of frantic motion was happening next to her. She glanced over to see two very young, sun-burned, blond-haired women, with surf boards tied to the roof of their car. They appeared to be headed home from the beach. Both the driver and the passenger were waving, smiling and laughing and the girl closest to Catt mimed cranking down the car window. Catt obliged - maybe they wanted directions. As she did so, the music on her radio fell in synch with theirs - same radio station - and the sound was a throbbing, thumping loud base-beat emanating from the two cars. Several blue-haired seniors were shuffling across the intersection in front of the two cars and they stopped mid-stride to gawk at the source of the noise and to scowl at the sound emitting from the cars.

"You go girl!! You rock!!" The young girl in the passenger seat called to Catt, "You're only as old as you feel!! Go for it!!"

With that, the light changed to green and the old, battered beach buggy's wheels squealed away with the two girls laughing and shouting playful encouragement at Catt as they raised their fists to cheer her on.

Catt laughed and returned the fisted acknowledgement toward the girls. She was anything but embarrassed. Earlier in her life Catt wouldn't have imagined herself being seen butt-dancing, shoulder shaking or rocking to the beat in a car-seat and lip-syncing to loud rock songs on the radio. Now she did it enthusiastically most every time she drove anywhere.

Catt continued her drive south along route AIA, the ocean road that ran the length of Palm Beach County and beyond. She enjoyed traveling the scenic route, it was a slower pace which afforded her ample opportunities to take a quick peek, between the luxurious mansions and high-rise condos which lined both sides of the highway, to catch the sparkle of the brilliant blue-green waters. It was a beautiful drive although it was becoming harder to catch a glimpse of the sparkling ocean waters between the buildings because of the traffic in season.

Catarina had moved to South Florida from Washington, D.C. after many years in the high-end restaurant business both in the kitchen as chef and then supervising upscale kitchen design and buildouts for a world renowned hotel chain. Catt, as she was universally known, found herself struggling with ennui in her midlife suddenly quit her job, searching for new challenges and greener pastures. South Florida looked tropically green to her. It wasn't the only thing that caused Catt the flee Washington.

She turned her CRV otherwise known as a 'baby-boomer buggy' away from the ocean and drove over the bridge spanning the Inter-Coastal waterway toward the town of Old Delray. Her vintage Florida house was snuggled into a residential community. The car slipped into the driveway adjacent to the kitchen door and rolled to a stop in front of the detached single car garage. As the woman slid from behind the wheel of the car - she stepped onto the driveway in her wedge Espadrilles - pausing to straighten her white linen slacks and adjusted the hem of her black polo shirt. Catt was feeling sexy and was anxious to get back to work on her latest storyline.

She was still smiling about the encounter with the two surfer girls and didn't notice her neighbor coming along the fence-line that separated their properties. The only movement was a barely visible bobbing of very curly, bluish-rinsed, white hair just above the top of the white plastic picket fence.

"Hello, Miz Hogan!" The frail octogenarian's voice warbled a greeting toward Catt through the picket slates.

When Catt had looked at the house, the real estate agent had purposely neglected to offer the fact that the pastel-colored houses, in the charming little community, were predominately occupied by an older population. Only a rare sighting of a child, usually a grandchild, or even a great-one, occasionally popped up among the retirees. She hadn't given it a thought, until she moved into her new home.

"Hello, Miss Ethel! Hope you and Fred are doing well!" Catt didn't slow her pace to await a reply, as she headed toward the garage - her converted office. Once again she tried to gently correct her neighbor, "Please, call me Catt."

"We're having a Pickle Ball Tournament and Pot Luck supper at the recreation hall tonight. If you'd care to join us, just bring a dish to share, anything at all. I've heard you are a good cook."

A muffled chuckle escaped Catt's lips, as she thanked the woman for the invitation, but politely declined the invitation with the excuse of a prior commitment. 'Wonder who told her I was a good cook?' she mused.

It hadn't been until seated at the real estate closing on the house, a few years earlier, that Catt learned she was purchasing a house in an over fifty-five community. She might have qualified by age, but most probably not by life-style. The real estate agent had handed her the by-laws of the Old Florida neighborhood organized into an association and suggested she read it in order to not run afoul of the condo-commandos. Clearly the salesman had done a background check on Catt and saw that her birthdate qualified her for the property. Trouble was, most of the other homeowners were a few decades beyond the age qualification, and while they seemed to be lovely people, Catt didn't have similar interests, such as Pickle Ball Tournaments.

Catt switched on the lights, air conditioning and lastly her laptop computer in a well-practiced maneuver. Soft rock played in the background from a local radio station; she drummed a tattoo on the desktop following the beat of the music while waiting for her operating system to load. Email loaded next and a slew of incoming messages arrived. Most junk mail was automatically routed to the trash bin file folder, but a few of the emails required her attention. Clicking down through the messages - one caught her eye - Catt took a sharp intake of air as she read through the message:

"Hey Sexy! You are a difficult lover to track down. I hope this is still a viable email address for you. No street address, or land line number was available for you. You trying to disappear completely?

"I want to see you! It's been too long, Sexy! Not only do I miss seeing you - but I am really horny for you! It's been awhile since we... well, you know - connected."

Catt's pale blue eyes sparkled with surprise. She wiggled her ass in the desk chair and realized she was all tingly with anticipation and excitement in her lady parts. How long had it been? Too long...

Tom's message included a phone number along with the name of the swanky hotel on Miami Beach where he was staying. She instantly recognized his voice - this was no joke - it really was her lover of almost forty fuckin' years as they had repeatedly announced to each other in astonished amazement. Through all of life's tribulations Catt and Tom had been together - on and off - for so many years. He was why she left Washington. He had other responsibilities and would-not, could-not commit to her. She had decided she couldn't continue to be his part-time Babe. Catt wanted Tom in her life, in her bed, in her cunt. He was still, and forever, in her heart. She loved him with all her heart and she was sure he loved her too, even if he couldn't say those words.

Catt stared at the message on the screen for several minutes wondering what she should do. She knew in her heart of hearts what she would do - she'd call him.

Catt slowly, deliberately dialed the number. She knew Tom's office number by heart. Truth be told, in the last few years she'd dialed it probably a thousand times and hung up each time before it connected. But this was a phone number for a hotel nearby. Tom was close to her. Tears stung the corners of her blue eyes - Catt squeezed her eyes closed to stop herself from crying. The droplets formed from past pain and now they ran down her cheeks. What would she do? What would they say to each other after all this time had passed?

The woman lost track of the seconds and the call connected while she was mentally fighting with herself about whether she should call him.

"Hello?" The timbre of his voice was deep, but the tone was tentative. His voice always made Catt's toes curl; it vibrated in her lady parts where it aroused her as if he was stroking her clit. Her panties were already damp with anticipation. Her nipples ached - puckered and hard.

For a long beat neither of them said another word, but Catt's breathing was coming in short pants into the mouthpiece which Tom could clearly hear it on his end.

"Hi..." Just a whisper of the word cautiously escaped her. She was afraid to utter another syllable.

"Catt! I'm so glad you called me! God, I've missed you so much. I'm here in Miami on business - a new restaurant venue, but it can't be all business -right? I took a shot with your old email address. Can you, would you, come here? Or would you rather that I come to you? Where the hell are you anyway? Palm Beach?"

For the first time in the conversation, Catt saw the humor in their conversation. He knew nothing about her life since they had last been together. A soft smile formed on her lips and she replied, "No, no mansion on Palm Beach, just a little bungalow in Delray. How long are you in Miami?" Catt's mind was rolling over her options as she spoke.

Tom heard the hesitation in her voice. His lover of a lifetime was leery of being with him again. "I don't really know, but probably for a few more days, maybe the rest of the week. I have to be back in Las Vegas by the weekend." He waited to see how Catt would react. He wondered, hoped she would agree to meet him. "Catt, I want to see you. I've missed you so very much. Please?"

There was a long stretch of silence... she wanted to see him too. Oh, her body ached for him. It always did when the thought of being with Tom passed through her mind. But she was leery of going back there - the pain, the hurt all over again - even after all these years of wanting to be with him. He was still her world.

"Catt? You still there? Please see me."

After a further pause she said, "I'll come to Miami. I've got some ah... work due and well, it's complicated. When? And where exactly are you staying? We can meet at someplace... public - the lobby, er... no, maybe in a neighborhood restaurant close by." Even she could hear the panic in her voice. Should she do this: meet him after the past several years of silence between them?

Catt Hogan had promised herself that the chapter was closed on her relationship with Tom Sanford. Done and done!

"I'm staying at the Four Season's on Brickell. I'll meet you at six o'clock in the lobby... I want to see you again. It's been too long. And when you left..." Tomas suddenly stopped speaking. "Catt, I'm very glad you are coming here," he said it very softly.

"Me too." It was said as barely a whisper. With that Catt disconnected the phone before she might say anything else.

Catarina Hogan held the phone tightly in her hand as she sat and stared at the computer screen with his email message still open. How long had it been? It had been over five years since they had last been together. There had been so many years and so many goodbyes. The last, the most recent is always the hardest goodbye. The others fade with time and the sharp knife edge of painful partings dull.

Why had she agreed to see Tom after all these years? She'd call him back and tell him she couldn't, no wouldn't, drive to Miami. But then of course he'd come to her. He'd find her. They always found each other, no matter how long they were apart. He didn't know where she lived but it didn't matter. He'd find her.

Catt's mind slipped gears from wariness to lust. She had only a few hours to complete another chapter in her multi-part story arc and send it off to her publisher. She was already several days overdue with the finished pages for the next installment of her writing genre - erotic romance. Her fans were demanding more, as was the publisher who profited handsomely from her quite capable talent as a writer of soft porn. Catt lived comfortably off of the income from her raunchy writing. Smut sold handsomely. It might not have been her bread and butter but it was certainly the icing on her cake. Catarina had always considered herself to be a shy, somewhat introverted person. She had been an awkward, plain-Jane kid with pig tails and about thirty pounds of chubby, pre-pubescent fat. Growing up she hadn't had many friends because she was an army-brat (her Dad was frequently transferred from one assignment to another) and so it seemed that Catarina was constantly being yanked out of one school mid-year and enrolled in another, therefore missing out on developing the bonds of adolescent friendship that little girls cherish.

As a result, Catarina (she didn't have a nickname in those days) was a lonely teenager who didn't consider herself attractive to boys, or girls. She submerged herself in school and stayed home studying on prom night and so many other boy-girl social activities. College was more of the same, however, her passion for writing and cooking began to emerge during those years and compliments surrounding her creative culinary skills inspired her to enroll in the prestigious Johnson and Wales University. It was a long and grueling program, but Catt was up to the task and her talent for inspired, creative cooking led her to excel and blossom professionally.

*****

Catt was falling further behind in completing her three-part story arc because she kept letting her mind roam back over the most passionate liaison of her life. There was no one, past or present - and the present was laughably non-existent - who took her to sexual arousal and then mind-blowing satisfaction as Tom. He was the quintessential sex partner. Maybe she could write a few more sex scenes into her smutty storyline if she just described the details of a few of the fireworks-exploding-climaxes she had shared with Tom over the past years. Could she write about that? Would she dare?

The author of best-selling smutty novels sat at her desk, one bare leg folded under the other in a pretzel fashion, as she noodled with a graphic scene of lust and debauchery in a manage-a-trois. Time was lost on Catt; she was into the storyline and arousing herself as she wrote the scenario with each character's participation deftly described. As she typed, her nipples were so tightly puckered they ached, but she didn't take her fingers off the keyboard to touch them. Rather, she arched her back in order to rub her rosy buds against the fabric of her lacy bra causing a slight friction of excitement, taking her close to an orgasm.

Suddenly, there was a firm knock on the door to her office. The unexpected interruption caused her to forget for a split second that she was writing in a man-sized white tee shirt, lacy bra and panties. En route to answer the door, Catt looked down realizing a potential problem, so she positioned herself discreetly behind the door as she opened it and peeked around, "Yes?"

Larry Dallas stood at the door and leered at her as she carefully hid behind the door. He had set his cap for her as soon as she moved into the community; Catt was trim, fit and carried herself with an almost mysterious aloofness that made her attractive and appealing to quite a few of the senior gentlemen in the neighborhood. The men with wives admired her from afar - they wouldn't have dared to make a move - the wives would have boxed their ears. But most every man gave an appreciative glance in Catt's direction when she was around. Age didn't matter - there was still some spark of hopefulness that she would be interested too. The wives for the most part were highly suspicious of the attractive, somewhat younger single lady who had moved into their neighborhood and they had collectively agreed to keep a watchful eye on their husbands when she was around.

"Oh! Hi Larry! Something I can help you with?" Catt's voice revealed dread, and she silently reproached herself for the rude tone of voice. She put a smile on her face to offset it.

"Catt, I just ah..." Larry was distracted by a curious thought: Why was Catt hiding behind the door?

"I wanted to invite you to the Pickle Ball Tournament this evening. I am the defending champion, you know, and I'd very much like you to come with me." He knew he would be the talk of the community if he could escort Catt to the game on his arm.

"Oh, my!" Catt was speechless - partly because of the invitation, but more importantly because Larry was standing at her door dressed in very short, short, tight tennis whites - and specifically because his shorts revealed a manly bulge at his crotch that appeared quite stupendous. Catt was momentarily transfixed.

"Uh, well thanks Larry. But I am leaving in a short while for a quick trip out of town this evening. I'm afraid I won't be able to attend the tournament tonight." She smiled with what she hoped appeared to be genuine regret. Certainly, Catt didn't want to mislead this septuagenarian.

Larry looked truly disappointed. He had been sure this presumed lonely, single lady would have jumped at the chance for a handsome white-haired gentleman to squire her around. Eligible men in this age demographic were hard to come by. It was a momentarily awkward silence that passed between them, but Catt was determined not to say anything more that would lead this nice man to false hopes of her interest in him.

Larry Dallas was nonplused. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other while considering whether he should turn and go, or stand and further plead his case to her; his manhood began to wink at Catt as it slipped slightly out of its tucked position at his crotch.

Catt was mesmerized by the dance that was causing the one-eyed snake to appear at the hemline of Larry's shorts. She was horrified at the thought that at any moment it would reveal itself further and she would be overcome with hysterical laughter. The woman bit the inside of her check, and hastened to finish the conversation.