I’m sitting staring at my reflection in the dressing table mirror.Who was I kidding? Forty-three years old, with two children and going on a date for Christ’s sake. I must be mad. The black bra held my 36DD breasts perfectly in place, gravity hadn’t yet completed its work, but age and the years of nursing my children meant that they certainly didn’t sit as proudly as they once did.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not quite the old widowed maid just yet, and pleasingly I can still turn a few heads on my rare nights out. But this adventure was certainly testing my self-confidence.
When I woke up this morning, I could feel the tell-tale sparkle of excitement; that irrepressible feeling you got as a child on Christmas morning or on your birthday. But as the hours of the day passed, bringing the moment closer, that excited anticipation had turned to anxiety. How the hell did I let them talk me into this?
I’d endured some friendly banter, knowing full well that my friends only had my best intentions at heart. But it really hadn’t been something I’d ever considered. When my husband Jason died, as far as I was concerned that was the end. It was just me, my two children, Rosie eleven and Sam seven, along with Toffee our ginger cat. The three of us against the world.
It’s been just over three years now. Three years since I received the phone call from Jason’s boss telling me that he’d been rushed to the hospital. The memory of that manic dash across town and into the intensive care unit gives me sleepless nights to this day. I was informed by a doctor that he’d had a massive heart attack, and when I saw him, he was unconscious with tubes and wires keeping him alive. Five days later he was dead. He was my world, and as I held his hand, the piercing sound of the flatlining monitor, confirmed he was gone.
They say that time’s a great healer, and I suppose to an extent it is, but as I sit here in my matching black bra and knickers, I can’t help but feel that I’m betraying him; going out with another man and leaving him behind. The intent was clear and believe me I wanted it, but it hadn’t made my decision any easier.
I thought it was just a bit of fun when they suggested that I join anonline dating agency. Karen, Jane and I giggled our way through the questionnaire one rainy morning after we’d dropped our children off at school, trying desperately to make me sound interesting and sexy.
Age: 43
Status: Widow
Hair: Dark Brown
Height: 5’10”
Body Type: Curvy
Likes theatre, cinema and living on the edge.
Living on the edge? If riding the Wurlitzer at the annual fair counts, then I’m in. Then the question that floored me.
What are you looking for?
There was a choice of five options, or if you were feeling brave,you could add your own. We read the options and narrowed it down to two. ‘Looking to start a relationship’ and ‘Looking to have fun.’
Was I? Was I seriously looking for either of those with another man? Anyway, after a lot of laughing and innuendo, we plumped for ‘Looking to have fun.’ But what does that even mean? Dinner and a night out or, you know, sex. I’d always considered that sex was the main reason anyone joined these agencies but was that me?
Perhaps this was getting out of my control and it was all happening so quickly. Before I could act, Karen had uploaded one of my photos and we were done. My details were registered, subscription paid, and I had a profile on an online dating agency.
I was ClaireW.
Later that day when I met the others at the school gates, they were full of questions, asking if I’d had any ‘news.’ To be honest, I hadn’t given it a second thought, but you know what curiosity did for the cat?
After the curtains had shut out the night, and the children were all asleep in bed. I curled up on the sofa with my laptop and scrolled through my emails. There were four messages from the agency, the first was a welcome to the site, which included information on what to do and more importantly what not to do. The other three were men that they deemed suitable matches.
How could I resist? Even as I was logging in, both my head and heart were asking why I was bothering. The first guy was John749 who apparently lived near my hometown.
Age: 48
Status: Divorced
Hair: Bald
Height: 6’
Body Type: Could lose a few pounds
What are you looking for: Let’s see what happens?
Next was GregP
Age: 45
Status: Single
Hair: Brown
Height: 5’11”
Body Type: Athletic. About average.
What are you looking for: I’m looking to start a relationship.
It all seemed so clinical to me. How are you supposed to choose? Their ages and locations changed, but they all started to blend in together after a while. How can you judge a person without meeting them?
I left it for a few days before I dived back in. I sat studiously at the kitchen table with my trusty laptop while the kettle boiled. To my surprise, I had seventeen new emails from the agency, all with matches. Again, the pattern was pretty much the same until I reached the ninth one. The email was official, but it included a private attachment.
Hi Claire
I received your profile in my emails as a match
You have a wonderful smile.
Would love to meet up?
Michael
He’d contacted me.
Bizarrely it hadn’t occurred to me that my profile was also being scrutinised. Attached was his profile. His picture staggered me. It showed a young, tanned, handsome face. His scruffy blond hair looked like he’d either just got out of bed or had spent the day on the beach. Either way, I was more than interested.
Michael666.
Age: 25
Status: Single
Hair: blond. Longish
Height: 6’2”
Body Type: Athletic. Above average.
I am looking for: An older woman. Not a relationship.
Older woman? Although I was impressed by the fact that he was brave enough to go for an original answer, I was confused as to why such a good-looking boy would want to meet older women?There was something about his profile picture that intrigued me.The combination of his youthful, cheeky smile, and the ‘whatever’look in his eyes. Most of the matches that had been sent to me were of my age or older. Some even reminded me of Jason.Michael looked like a free spirit, a surfer dude. A ‘live for the moment’ kid.
I wanted to know more.
Hi Michael
I don’t really have a clue how this all works.
Thanks for contacting me.
I love your profile.
Claire
He took an age to reply. In fact, I’d given up on the whole thing and was just deleting the emails that were being sent to me from the agency of other matches when one afternoon, completely out of the blue.
Hi Claire
Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back, I’ve been travelling.
I live in Devon. If you want to meet up call me.
O7123987654
Michael
My heart actually skipped a beat, and an energy pulsed through my veins that I hadn’t felt in such a long time. It was a mixture of his eventual reply and his honesty. There was no pussyfooting involved, it was a simple yes or no. Did I want to take this further and meet him, or not? As I reached for my phone, my heart was still racing. I paused, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to appear either desperate or aloof.
Hi Michael
Thank you for the reply.
I’ve never done anything like this before, but it would be nice to meet up for a drink and a chat.
Claire
As I pressed send, the reality of what I was possibly entering into,hit me. “A drink and a chat,” my god, what was I saying? That’s what I would say to my brother. Suddenly I was consumed by self-doubt; after all, I was eighteen years his senior and I even had nephews his age. My phoned pinged again. It was him.
Hi Claire
That would be good.
You could come here, or I’ll come to you.
Whatever works for you. I’m easy.
I suggest you contact the agency. They are very good and will confirm I’m not a psycho.
I’ve dated a number of women from this agency. I could ask some of them to contact you? Your call.
Let me know.
Michael
I must have read that text a dozen times before I replied.
Hi Michael
I have children so it’s probably best that you come to me.
Thanks for the advice, I’ll contact the agency.
Do they do checks then?
Also, it would be great if someone contacted me although you don’t look like a mad axeman to me.
Claire
Almost immediately he replied.
Hi Claire
How do you know?
How do you know I’m not going to tie you to a bed and have my wicked way with you?
My eyes widened as I read his words. I stared at the screen as the fantasy of being at the mercy of another man ran through my mind. Tied to the bed, helpless to stop him from doing whatever he wants to me. Another ping followed, braking my imagination.
Sorry!
Yes, the agency asks for feedback as to the behaviour of your partner, so any problems are logged, and I imagine dealt with.
And of course, I’d never tie you to a bed.
I must confess to being disappointed as I read his reply. I wasn’t looking for love, I realised that much at least. I wasn’t looking for someone to replace Jason, but I needed something, someone.
Ping
Unless you want me to
I smiled to myself. I think I did. The sensation that coursed through me was unmistakeable. My hands pulled my cotton dress up above my knees as I felt between my legs, feeling the damp patch on my knickers. What was the boy doing to me? Pulling the gusset to one side, I let my fingers explore. My phone pinged again.
Would you?
God, I was dripping. My fingers collected my juices and spread them slowly in circles, relishing the moment and letting my scent invaded my senses. I pictured my young lover pleasuring me as I lay helplessly prone and tied. Watching as he stood and unbuttoned his jeans, my eyes like saucers as he revealed himself.My middle finger found my sensitive and swollen clitoris and I teased it gently before increasing the pressure, causing my legs to close involuntarily around my hand, trapping it as long forgotten waves of pleasure washed over me.
The curtains were wide open, and I was more than aware of the scene that any nosy passer-by would gain as I opened my legs and inserted two fingers into my sopping opening as I frantically frigged myself. My left hand undid the buttons on the front of my dress, allowing me to pinch my erect nipples, enjoying the slight pain that resonated from them.
All other thoughts were abandoned. I wanted this. I wanted it so badly. I glanced down at my laptop screen. Michael’s eyes stared back, and my god, that boyish grin watching me, and I wanted him too. I blinked into the hazy late afternoon light that glowed through the window as the low winter’s sun spread an eerie luminescence into the room.
A shadow shimmered over me as someone outside walked past.The thrill of them spying on me through the window, watching as I touched myself, imagining the shame and scandal if my thoughts were ever revealed. Suddenly I wouldn’t just be the widow at number fifty-six. I had needs and desires like every woman.
The room echoed to the sound of my cunt squelching as my fingers worked to bring me closer still. I closed my eyes, imagining my young lover kissing my lips. I clasped my breast hard, making me squeal as I imagined his young hard cock entering me, his strong hands holding mine above my head, pinning me down, my large breasts swinging wildly as he fucked me hard, mercilessly. I’m close; I can feel it. I’m so, so close.
Exasperatedly, my release was immediately halted by the urgent ringing of my mobile. My concentration broken, I squinted at the caller’s ID. It was Karen. No, no, no, not now! The time on the illuminated screen screamed at me.
14:55.
All previous thoughts were unfortunately pushed aside as I panic. I should have been at the school. I’ve never been late. Never. Cursing my luck and poor timing, I quickly and unceremoniously pulled my knickers up and flattened my dress. Dashing to the door, I collected my phone, pausing briefly to look at myself in the hallway mirror.
I looked frenzied. My face was flushed, and my pupils were dilated. Christ, I was so turned on. That brief dalliance into this new world had captured me. I looked again and saw there was a colour to my complexion that had been missing for years.
Karen noticed it as I arrived to meet her.
“Hello you,” she said with her all-knowing grin, “did I interrupt anything?” I could feel my cheeks blush as I tried to avoid her gaze. But I couldn’t deny it any longer. Taking my phone from my coat pocket, I knew the answer to his question and typed with a clear head. I had no idea how this was going to work or where it was going to lead, but I knew I wanted it.
Yes
