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I was 5'5. She was 5'8.She looked more menacing now. She said not to push her buttons. I told her I would do what I wanted. She told me to go to my room. I protesed, but she shoved me in command. I stomped all the way to my bed.An hour or two later she came in. She said she was sorry. I told her I didn't give a crap. She said that she wanted to do something special for my 20th birthday, which was in 4 days. She told me it was a complete suprise and I'd have to wait. I said Ok, and she left, but not before kissing me on the head.4 days passed and I woke up to a sweet smell. Pancakes. I went out to the kitchen and sat at the bar. She gave me a plate and some syrup. She sang happy birthday as I ate. When we were both done, she told me to sit in the living room. I did, and she gave me something. She told me to start packing. I couldn't believe it! She got tickets to go to Vegas! I ran to my room to pack and 3 hours later we were at the airport. Another hour, we were 5 miles in the air. 8. Something about her intrigued me. She was so, ... classy is the word I decided on. I certainly had no interest in “eldersex”. I liked nubile bodies in my bed, and I usually dated women younger than me. If I had what you would call a “girlfriend” it was Claire back home in Montana. She was more like a friend with benefits. She was 33, divorced, no kids, and had told me many times she could make us exclusive if I were to make the commitment. At the moment, we were happy with the way things were, and she didn’t beat me over the head with a commitment stick. I knew she wouldn’t wait forever, but I still felt there were other waters to sail.As Bea (she still hadn’t introduced herself) approached she smiled confidently and said, “I’m heading home if you would like to stop by for ... coffee.” She never slowed down her pace, she just kept walking.I finished that block and headed toward her street, still unsure of either her, or my, intentions.I walk up her drive and went to the side door and.
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