Blurred Lines

 Yesterday, I was feeling stressed.  A computer virus was making its way through our system at work, causing issues. People still get caught by email fishing. My thoughts kept drifting to Firefly in a coma at the hospital and everything that could happen. I feel sorrow for her parents.

I rushed home through ongoing construction. I had plans with Ava, and I needed to take a shower. Two miles from my condo, I received a text from Max.

Max: When will you be home?

Bathwater: In about five minutes.

I knew his question meant he was probably over. I wanted to be supportive and commiserate with him over his breakup, but I had less than an hour to shower and tidy up the place. Max took down the pictures of him and his girlfriend I had on display. He threw out one, and I put away the other.  The latter was a picture of Max, his girlfriend, Billie, and me. 

I told Max I had a date coming over. He asked me how old she was. "Twenty-nine," I said.

"What happened to the forty-year-old?"

"She baled on me."

Max didn't stay long, but he promised to come back this weekend. He seems to be taking the breakup well. Maybe too well. I don't want him shunning girls entirely. 

Ava called me while I was taking out the trash and said she was picking up pizzas from a nearby place on the way and needed to know what topping I wanted. How can you dislike a girl who brings you a pizza and fucks you for an hour after? But I am jumping ahead.

Ava showed up right on time wearing black leggings and a black floral blouse.  She had her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. We sat on the couch in the living room and talked while we ate. She opened more about her family. She is not close to her father, yet she still lives at home because she is close to her mother, who is on disability due to a car accident.

I paused our conversation to take a thirty-minute conference call upstairs in the loft. Ava watched videos while she waited. When I returned, we talked a bit more.

"You are not going to be shy with me tonight, are you?" I asked before I led her upstairs. "In your head, you should be thinking, fuck this guy, he is twice my age. He is lucky to be having sex with me."

Ava laughed. "I am not like that."

We got undressed and under the covers. I rolled on top of Ava, and we continued our banter while we kissed, and I explored her neck and torso with my mouth.

Somehow we got on the topic of masturbating. Ava said she rarely does.

"Don't you get horny?" I asked.

"I get horny all the time."

"What do you do if you are not with a guy?"

Ava patted my arm gently and looked at me as if I were naive. "There is always a guy available."

"I think I just shrank two inches. I forgot you are a woman. Of course, a guy is always available." 

We both laughed, and it broke the tension, but I needed a little attention after the blow to my ego. I asked if she would go down on me. She did, though she admitted later it is something she doesn't usually do. It is a phrase she used a couple of times during the evening.

I became hard quickly and entered her missionary, but we promptly progressed into a series of different positions. Sex is a vice she does indulge in. We continued for what seemed like an hour. She was not in a hurry for me to finish. We finished with her bent over the side of the bed. As I slowed my pace, I leaned down over her and whispered in her ear. "Now you are beginning to understand why I don't date women my own age."

"Heck, I feel like the cougar!" She replied. If nothing else, these girls are good for the ego. Though, despite what it might sound like here, I try not to take it too seriously.

I laid back on the bed. Ava pulled up the covers and rested her head on my chest. She describes herself as polyamorous. "I believe you can be in love with more than one person," she tells me. That sounds like a person with commitment issues to me. 

"I am not looking for anyone to be in love with me. In lust would be nice."

Early on, I told her I was looking to see someone about three times a month. Ava offers up just hanging out one night on the off week. Blurred lines. 

"We can do that. As long as we understand each other," I tell her. "It sounds like you need a safe place to hang out, and I don't mind the company." 

Ava feels her home is toxic because of her father. Se arrived at six with two personal pizzas in hand and left around ten-thirty. How can I complain? Things might get interesting here.