Do Ask, Don't Tell

 "So, how is your little friend doing?"  Alexis asks me.  It is a leading question, but I know where she is headed.

"Fine, why?  Did Sam tell you she met Firefly?"

Alexis laughs, "Sam said, she looks like she is twelve."

"She looks sixteen," I counter. "But, I swear she is twenty."

I have mostly female friends.  Over the years, they have described my desire to date and sleep with younger women as weird or creepy.   I understand why, though they would never admit it.  Seeing a man their own age dating a younger woman cuts too close to home for them. I am not weird or creepy, though.  Several studies have shown, no matter his age, a man finds a woman in her early twenties to be the most attractive.

This means I am not out of the ordinary except for the fact that I pursue what I desire.  Most guys, given a choice, would sleep with a younger woman over an older woman.  Some guys don't have the choice because they are married, poor, or not attractive.  I don't seem to have those issues.

I just turned fifty-six.  I have not slept with a woman over thirty since my divorce fifteen years ago (my ex-wife was in her early thirties at the time.  Alexis likes to say, no girl in her twenties wants to be with someone your age.  I would agree.  Why would they want to date me, but Billie did for seven years.  

Firefly and the Gymnast both enjoy having sex with me.  They show too much enthusiasm for it to be obligatory.  Firefly doesn't cuddle up to me and stroke my chest at night because it is expected.  Our relationship is mutually beneficial, but there is a greyness to it that I don't try to explain anymore.  It doesn't matter.  I have never been in a relationship that didn't have some mutually beneficial aspect to it.

"You want me to tie you to the bed?"  I ask Firefly as I slowly kiss my way down between her legs.

"Tomorrow night, I am too tired for that tonight."

"Tomorrow?"  I smile to myself before I start stroking her with my tongue.

*     *     *

In other news, about a year ago, after Billie left, during my "don't say no to anything phase,"  I signed up to be an extra with a casting agency in Detroit.  I did not hear from them until this week.  Steven Soderbergh is filming a movie in Detroit this month, tentatively called Kill Switch.  I was asked if I am available and if I am interested in being an extra.  The role is a mob-type character. Perfect for an Italian like me.  I said yes, and I am waiting to hear back from them. It would be one more thing to scratch off my bucket list.

Going Back

I texted with The Gypsy yesterday.  She confirmed that the Gymnast is still in Arizona.  Apparently she never made it past the state.  The Gypsy said she the Gymnast ditched her for some sugar daddy out there.  From what I have seen on Instagram, he seems like a tool.

My company wants us to start returning to the office two days a week, starting next week.  It is ridiculous request.  There is no reason for us to be in the office and it is against the governor's suggested protocol.  We can do 95% of our work from home.  Going to the office should be on an as needed basis.  Of course the owner is a miniature carbon copy of the President so what do you expect.  Several people are upset about it.  There is little being put into affect to ensure people are protected.  The owner's response to the complaints, "if they don't like it, they can tender there resignation".  I will be updating my resume.

I have an on going office joke.  I have been telling people, much like the computer virus that the owner let into our system by opening an attachment from his email, he will be the one that let's the Covid-19 virus into the office.

I do not particularly like working for this company, or the Chinese automotive supplier we represent. The pay is good, but the work doesn't fill the soul.  I am not afraid of catching the virus.  I just don't want to be responsible for spreading it to friends or family.  I would like things to go back to normal.  I will be selectively returning to some of my old routines.  Some, I will have to do, others I will do because the bring me happiness.

Updates

The Gymnast and the Gypsy have decide to go on a road trip to Arizona.  A rather foolish 29 hour drive to be taking right now if you ask me.  No one did.  So I didn't offer an opinion.  They have to be back by the end of the month for the Gypsy's court date.

Tinkerbell called and asked if I wanted to go to Lowe's with her. I jumped at the chance to get out of the house. I earlier I could not remember the last time I went anywhere.  Looking back it would be the day I looked at the truck. That would be a week ago!  No wonder I am getting a bit depressed.

I like hanging out with Tink.  It reminds me of the days we used to hang out all the time.  These trips are shorter, but she is still one of the few people I can talk to for hours and not get bored.  Lowe's was not crowded.  There were no lines at the door waiting to get inside.  Everyone wore a mask.  It is a strange new world we will be opening up too come June. 

The Weather here is starting to get warmer...again.  I hope we get some 70 degree days soon. I would like to go ride some trails on my bike.

I took my friend Sam's bike to the shop today also.  She has not ridden in three years.  It needed a tun-up.  I did a curbside drop off.  The owner of the small bike shop said he could not get his employees to come back.  They were making too much on unemployment.  I think this is true for a lot of people out there.  There should be a better way to get the economy rolling than paying people more money to sit home than to work.  If I made more staying at home than working you can be damn sure I wouldn't be in a hurry to go back.  Of course this also says something about the state of wages in this country but now I am digressing.

Aquamarine

I am sitting in the spare bedroom at the Lego table building what, I am told, looks like an abandon factory.  The table is 4 ft by 7 ft.  I made it myself, from laminated white press board and an old bed frame.  Several models are scattered over it and plastic bins filled with Lego parts are tucked beneath. About 10:30 p.m. Sienna, my cat quickly moves from siting next to me to hiding in the corner under the table. Her sudden change is a clear indication that someone is here.

The Gymnast walk through the door quietly a few moments later.  "I stopped to use your hand sanitizer," she tells me.  She takes off her jacket, places her bright blue back pack on the floor and sits on the bed.  She is wearing light grey camo patterned sweat pants and a grey polo shirt that has been converted into a crop top.  The bottom third of her blond hair is dyed an aquamarine.

"It has been a weird few days she," she says.  "First Gypsy gets arrested and then my ex boyfriend's cousin OD's on heroin."  She tells me about Gypsy's arrest.  Typical young people foolishness involving sex and drugs.  Parked in a car when they should be quarantined at home. Gypsy and her are close but they are not lovers.  Looking back I can remember having friendships like that when I was her age.

I get up to get her a water.  When I return she is in my chair intently adding pieces to my creation.  "Your factory is growing carrots.  Do you have any more of these?"  She asks holding up a green plastic vine piece. 

"If you find one of anything, you can usually be assured you'll find at least three more."  I dig several more out of a container on the table.

"Here I made you a little tower to guard the place from beasts."  She places her creation on the plate along side my own.

"I'll get you a beast," I reply and enthusiastically race to the hall to grab the dragon I made a few weeks ago and placing it into the display. 

"Okay don't start showing off!"

We head downstairs to play video games for a while.  We play a few games of Call of Duty Zombies and Borderland before heading upstairs.  "You have a towel we can put down?"  she asks me. "I am still bleeding."  

"Just grab a red one from the cabinet," I say to her while she is in the bathroom.  For me the night is not about the sex, it is about being close to someone. I spend as much time resting my chin on her belly and talking, as I do going down or her.  After we have sex, we watch about half of the movie "Super 8" before she rolls onto her side and begins to snore.

In the morning, after a few sips of coffee in bed she says, "For as cuddly as you profess to be you are really not so much at night."

"I try to give you your space.  I don't want you elbowing me in the middle of the night. If it was up to me, I would be like this." I spoon up behind her, wrap my arm around her and gentle cup her right breast. 

We are both naked from the waist up.  She rolls over, wraps her thigh over my torso and rests her head on my bare chest.  We linger this way and continue taking.  No topic is off limits.  She tells me about Europe and about the career she wants to pursue.  She is going away again for a few weeks.  The virus is not stopping her from enjoying life.  "I pay you too good,"  I chide her, but really I envy her.  I feel trapped in my own malaise. I would love to get away with her somewhere.  Just not now.  Not with the world the way it is, I am afraid to venture outside.

The Gymnast knows I am still hung up on Billy.  I don't try to hide it from her.  There is no reason, we are not lovers we are friends with benefits.  She understands the relationship I had with Billy, her own was like that. "Everyday there is the adrenaline of some new drama going on," she states, describing both relationships perfectly.  "Maybe you just need someone new to forget about the old one."

"I have someone," I say, tapping my index finger against her forehead.

She stays till noon.  Sliding between my legs and going down on me before we clean up and dress.  It is a safe arrangement.  She checks her drama at the door.  I am fond of her but I am not in love.  I don't want to be in love with anyone.  I don't think she does either.  I remember what being in love is like, the irrational behavior and emotional turmoil it brings. It is not safe to fall in love with a beautiful woman. Love comes with a price. A lesson I have failed to heed in the past.

Is the Gymnast good for me?  I do not know.  Probably not.  Girls never are but being alone can be just as bad.

The Gymnast and the Gypsy

I decided against getting the truck at this time.  I will wait until things are safer economically.  I do not think the deals will be going away any time soon with so many people unemployed. 

The Gymnast was supposed to come over yesterday afternoon.  I received this text around 1:30 p.m.

Gymnast: Okay, so I've been up all night.  I'll still come to see you but not till later.  I have to bail Gypsy out of jail.  (Gypsy is the female friend she went to Europe with).

Bathwater:  I am sure there is a good story there.

Gymnast:  I wasn't even with her.  I was home in bed and got a call at like 1:00 a.m.

Bathwater: Well, good, you don't need to be going back to jail.  Of course, neither does she.  What was she doing?

Gymnast:  She was parked smoking, and someone called the cops on her.  They found one pill in her car.

Later did not materialize.  I am sure she is still dealing with getting Gypsy free.  I have this theory.  I am just speculating, but I get the feeling that the Gymnast and Gypsy are more than just friends.  The Gymnast had a boyfriend before, a want-to-be rapper that overdosed back in November, but she has told me she is not looking for one now.  Gypsy does not have a boyfriend either.  I am going to ask the Gymnast next time she comes over.

I am glad it is Friday.  Work has been slow.  My customers are on furlough or working from home.  Even the latter seems absent.  I am trying to trade the cost of getting my friend Sam's bike tuned up and a beer for a haircut.  I think that will make me feel more human than a new truck.

The Gymnast Returns

Lying on her back, she sleeps peacefully next to me,  Her face is tucked partially into the covers. By the dim morning light I regard her.  She has a new piercing, a small barbell at the bridge of her nose.  Lying in bed we are worlds apart.

The Gymnast is back. A lack of money has brought her out of quarantine. Outside the birds have started their morning ritual of chirping.  She doesn't seem to notice.  I get up, make coffee and start my day.  I am letting her sleep while I write this. The alternative would be for me to be pawing at her soft firm ass, which I do occasionally during the night, but she likes her sleep as much as she likes to have sex.

The cat peeks in on our guest but doesn't venture passed the doorway into the bedroom.  I wonder if she will ever be comfortable with someone new joining our family.  The Gymnast will not be that person.

Last night, the Gymnast is quieter than usual.  "I have a lot on my mind," she tells me, but doesn't give any details when I press for more.  The virus has given us all more to think about.  "This was supposed to be my year to travel,"  she continues,  "Now I have got to go back to school."

"You are young.  You will still have time to travel.  For me every years seems precious."

I press my face against the warm soft skin of her chest.  "It feels so good to be next to someone," I tell her as I look up into her eyes.  Her lips curl into a smile. "Don't laugh," I scold before placing my face down onto her again.

"I get it," she replies, as we both slide out of our underwear.  "I am with my sister and grandfather all the time."

The Gymnast is a comfortable distraction   When she is here, she fills a part of that hole Billy left behind but she also reminds me how large that hole can be.  The last few days I have been thinking about Billy.  Trying to make sense of it all.  I keep thinking back to that saying,  All life is suffering.  We cannot change the past or trying to control the future.

The Gymnast rolls out of bed around 10:30.  I sit on the side of the bed and watch as she slides takes off the tee shirt she is wearing exposing her firm bare breasts.  She puts on a thin long sleeve grey shirt from the floor and replaces the tee shirt.  "So am I going to see you again, or do I need to wait till you are financially strapped?"

"I will be back.  I always come back,"  she assures me.

We head downstairs.  She takes a few sips of coffee before putting on her shoes by the door.  "Come here I tell," pulling her toward me.   "Give me a hug before you go."  I hold her close resting my chin on her shoulder and weaving my fingers into her soft blond hair.  Reluctantly, I let her go when she pulls away.

You've find yourself a friend that knows you well.
But no matter what you do 
You always you tripped and fell
So steady as she goes..  Steady, as She Goes, The Reconteurs

Living in Fear

Bathwater:  I think the days I am supposed to be working are worse. There is little to do for 8 hours.

Rose: Yes, I know! Lol, well, I am not scared to see you if you're not.

Bathwater: Are you sure you are safe?

Rose: I haven't been around anyone, but no one knows for sure, I guess.

I declined to take Rose up on her offer. I am not afraid of getting the virus. I still think I might have had it. I am resigned to self-isolation. Perhaps I am getting used to being alone. There are few people I would break my seclusion to see (the Gymnast being one).

I am in a malaise just short of depression, and it scares me. By the time this is over, being alone could become the new normal. This is not how I expected 2020 would be. I am sure none of us did. The death toll is supposed to peak this week in Michigan and then recede. By May, things should be close to normal. I am sure things will begin to rise again once we return to work, but I do not care. A life living in fear is no life worth living.   

I Ventured to the Store

I made a list of the essentials, eggs, bread, coffee, cookies, ice cream and a dozen other things.   It was the first time in two weeks I wore jeans.  They felt weirdly confining compared to my sweat pants.  I fitted a surgical mask to the contours of my nose, packed a baggie with sanitary wipes and went to the grocery store yesterday.

I know I said I was going to stay inside but on line ordering of food is back-logged over a week in my area.  I didn't want to run that low and I needed my comfort food God knows there is very little other comfort going on here.  It was my first trip in ten days. 

There were a lot of cars on the road for this area being a hot spot (just north of Detroit).  It was 5:00 p.m.  The skies were streaked with grey clouds and a light drizzly began to fall as I got out of the Jeep.  I wiped down a shopping cart from the parking lot and entered Walmart.

The store was not crowded but there were people shopping, most for food but some seemed to be browsing.  About a quarter of the people wore some type of mask.  A saw several people shopping in groups of two and three.  What is that about?  Why increase your families risk?  One couple even had a baby with them.  There was even a group of six teens aimlessly wandering the household aisles.

Shopping was as solitary an experience as being home.  I didn't talk with anyone. Didn't get near anyone.  I opened cooler doors with wipes, paid with my phone and wiped my hands constantly.
When I returned to the house, the first thing I did was wash my hands.  Then I unpacked my groceries, washed my hands again and sanitized them after for good measure. 

It is going to be a long April.  I have not been able to convince the Gymnast to leave her quarantine and risk entering mine...at least not yet, but I know her, she gets horny and her toys will eventually not be enough to keep her inside.  Till then, I still have five more seasons of Once Upon a Time to watch.  I think I will let my hair go grey and grow out a beard.  If I am going to be a hermit.  I should look like a hermit.

Saturday Isolation

The Gymnast is sporting what looks like pink and blond dread locks.  Someone has been bored.

Gymnast:  Hey babe, it's the first weekend I am free.  I can stay the night Sunday and I will be off my period.

Bathwater:  You will probably be sick by Sunday.

She means to party with friends she has not seen since her return from Europe.

Gymnast:  No I won't.

She is part of that generation that thinks they are invulnerable and the virus is over hyped.  The generation that is good at ignoring government calls to self isolate.  I am a man who thinks with his smaller head, so we are both screwed.

My female friends Sam and Alexis went to eat and drink in isolation at Alexis' cottage in Lapeer.  I declined to join them.  I am  more comfortable being isolated at home than away.  Tinkerbell is hunkered down with her boyfriend  the T-Rex and across town.  You never stop to think how much social interaction you get from friends and work until you are isolated from them.

Today I am going to get off my ass and start some home projects that I have been procrastinating on.  I have to replace a few loose pieces of laminate flooring up stairs in the loft.  Something I have had to do for about three years and I am going to paint the bathroom in the second bedroom if I have all the supplies on hand.  This I have only be putting off since September.

Bathwater:  Be safe.  Have fun and don't be too late on Sunday!

Gymnast:  I won't love.

And if your heart stops beating
I'll be here wondering
Did you get what you deserve?
The ending of your life

And if you get to heaven
I'll be here waiting, baby

Did you get what you deserve?
The end and if your life won't wait
Then your heart can't take this

Have you heard the news that you're dead?
No one ever had much nice to say
I think they never liked you anyway
Oh take me from the hospital bed
Wouldn't it be grand ain't it exactly what you planned
And wouldn't it be great if we were dead... Dead!, My Chemical Romance

Used

I started working from home this week.  It is taking some adjustment.  It is just the cat here and me.  I find myself making more calls.  For lack of any other excitement, I will continue with the antics of the Gymnast and myself.

Monday, I text her.

Bathwater:  Last night was totally worth the drive!  Did you get grounded :)?

Gymnast: Should I come over for more?

Bathwater: When now?  What happened to your quarantine?

Gymnast: I left for supplies.  (by supplies, I assumed she meant weed).

Bathwater: What time can you get here?  

Gymnast:  Like an hour tops.

Bathwater: Sounds good.

She showed up shortly after 3:00 p.m. for another marathon session of sex.  The girl is insatiable.  She likes to be tied and has expressed no limits, which can lead my mind down some dark rabbit holes that I have refrained from entertaining.  We said our goodbyes, and I figured it would be the last I would see from her for a few days but later that night, after I was already in bed, she text again.

Gymnast:  Let me come over. I have a toy we can use.  It's been so long since I have had sex.

I agreed, although to be honest, at my age, I was good for a few days.  She brought a vibrator with her.  It is shaped like a U and is meant to be inserted in the vagina while the other side rests on the clit.    

"I am beginning to feel used,"  I tell her be entering her.

"Used in a good way!"  

I don't argue her point.  Menstrual cramps cut the second round shorter.  She assures me once she is done with this quarantine, things will be easier.  She has ghosted me since.  Probably because her period started and I am not needed.  Definitely being used.

"You are never going to be able to be with a woman your own age,"  my friend tells me after hearing about my adventures.

He is probably right.  Even Billy doesn't compete with the Gymnast when it comes to sex, but it is the space between that is void.  My heart still lies in that void.

Break me down, you got a lovely face
We're going to your place
And now you got to freak me out
Scream so loud, getting fuckin' laid 

You want me to stay, but I got to make my way... Crazy Bitch, Buckcherry

Drive to Me

The Gymnast is back from Europe. She usually lives with her grandfather and sister. Currently, she is self-quarantined at her mom's house until Tuesday, Sunday night at 12:30 a.m. I received a text from her.

Gymnast:  You up?

Bathwater: Yeah, you bored?

Gymnast:  I am stuck at my mom's house. Want you to come fuck me in your car? How sexy does that sound (She sends me the location).

Bathwater:  It sounds really hot. It also sounds like we are sixteen. Lol, it isn't that far away  (Turns out it is about 28 minutes away).

Gymnast:  You have a nice Jeep. We could totally do it in there.

Bathwater:  How long are you stuck there?

Gymnast: Till Tuesday, but I am really horny. I want to feel you inside me again. It has been a long time.

She sends me several more suggestive texts. How do I argue with that?

At 2:00 a.m., I am driving along a rural road thirty minutes north of my house. I see the glow of a cell phone along the side of the road. The Gymnast is walking toward me.   She jumps into the Jee. We pull off onto a dirt road and park just like teenagers.

"How did you make it five weeks in Europe?"  I ask her.

"I used the shower head."

We caught up with each other with small talk and quickly moved to the back. I folded down the seats and put two blankets in the back before leaving. The Gymnast was wearing sweat. She removed them and exposed the sexy lingerie underneath. I quickly undress and join her.

The radio plays alternative music, and the glow from the display screen is enough for me to see her body clearly. She has several new tattoos. She is beautiful. Her body is firm but not overly muscled. Her head rests on my folded jacket just behind the center console. I enter her missionary. "God, I've missed you," I whisper.

The Jeep has plenty of room for us to maneuver. She bumps her head once on the ceiling while riding m. Forty minutes and several positions later, she is lying below me again."Am I still trouble?"  It is the nickname I have given her.

"The best kind, but you will probably be my death. I still want to take you somewhere."

"Like a sex dungeon?"

"Fuck, I'd build a sex dungeon if I could keep you there! 

The windows are steamed up by the time we finish. Not one car passes our makeshift make-out parking spot. The virus has left her unemployed   There is no need for waitresses or teaching gymnastics in the near future. She and her sister are both part of the thousands left in the wind by the virus. She doesn't seem too phased by it. She is a hustler and always finds a way to get through things. I assured her I would help her out.

We dress, and I drop her off . It is nice to have her back.

Flight

At the end of January, the Gymnast went to Europe for a three-month unscripted vacation.  She made it to Amsterdam, Frankfurt, parts of France, and Switzerland before the virus ruined her plans.  Two weeks ago, I texted her.

Bathwater:  How is the virus affecting your trip?  What country are you in now?

Gymnast: France and it's not too bad.  Just can't go to some of the places we wanted to.

Bathwater: It is gonna get worse.  If you get stuck over there, just make sure it is somewhere nice and warm.

Gymnast: You think I will get stuck?

Bathwater: If the numbers keep increasing, they will start restricting travel.  Just be smart and keep your eyes and ears open.

Gymnast:  I have two months left!.  I hope I can make it.

Bathwater:  Enjoy it.  Just have an exit plan in the back of your mind.

Monday, I checked in on her again.

Bathwater:  Where are you at now?

Gymnast: In Frankfurt.

Bathwater: You keeping up with the news?  Italy is basically shutting down.  The other countries will follow.

Gymnast: I need an escape route.  Just didn't plan for this.

Bathwater: Are you escaping to home or deeper into Europe?

Gymnast: Trying to go back home.

Bathwater: So what exactly are you trying to do? Leave now?

Gymnast: Or go somewhere in the US for a bit.  Might go to my grandma's in Florida.

Bathwater: As much as you hate the place, Michigan is one of the states without any confirmed cases (now we have three in the metro Detroit area).

I'd say get back to the states, then plan where you want to go.  Keep in touch.

Wednesday morning, I checked in on her again.

Bathwater:  Did you get a ticket back to the US yet?

Gymnast:  Not yet.

Bathwater: You just procrastinating, or is there other issues?

Gymnast:  Didn't really budget this in my plan, waiting for prices to drop.

Bathwater:  That's risky.  When the cases reach about 3000 in a country over there, things tend to tip.  How much you need to get back?

Gymnast:  Tickets are around $600.

Bathwater:  I can send you the money.  You can pay me back.  I think you should get out of there.

Gymnast: It's okay.  They don't have travel bans in Germany yet.  I don't like owing money.

Bathwater: I wouldn't hold it over your head.  You need help, let me know.

Gymnast: I do appreciate it and will let you know, but I should be fine.

Bathwater: Famous last words from the girl whose nickname is trouble.

Then Wednesday night.

Bathwater:  Okay, the President just announced he is cutting off travel from Europe for 30 days beginning Friday.  It is time to make a decision.

Gymnast:  I bought tickets to get out.

Farms, Cemeteries, and Dollar Stores

Drove three and a half hours into rural Ohio for a half hour meeting then got back into the car and drove home.  Rural Ohio has one thing we do not have in Michigan, drive through liquor stores.  So in addition to farms, cemeteries and Dollar stores I saw an assortment of drive through liquor stores.  I want to say the small towns I drove through looked quaint but mostly they looked old and depressing. It isn't hard to imagine the opiod crisis taking hold in such places.

I am bored lately but I have avoided calling any of the girls from SA and having them come over.  A few keep asking if I want to get together, but I really don't.  I am not sure if it is the time of year, work or the state of the country but I feel mildly depressed.  I am also putting weight back on and I don't think it is all from the weight training.  Although I think the weight training is making me eat more.

  The Gymnast is back in Frankfurt.  Europe is quickly shutting down and she is trying to come up with an exit plan to get home early.  I warned her to have an exit plan.  Looks like she will be leaving a month earlier than anticipated.

Confidence

"What you need to do is build up your confidence.  I just don't see yet...anybody good coming in (to your life) yet." The psychic said, finishing our session.

Confidence-

• a feeling of self-assurance arising from one's appreciation of one's own abilities or qualities

 It is easier to attract the bad ones.  I am attempting to at least temporarily, replace The Gymnast, . However, the quality of girls I meet is declining.  I met with Maddy Sunday.  She is another girl looking for a mutually beneficial relationship.  Another girl from a broken home without a stable father figure.  She is twenty-three, heavier than I like, and less refined but I am hoping she will not be needed once the Gymnast returns.

Searching for someone to take care of my needs is frustrating.  Whether it is finding someone for a potential relationship or finding someone for the night.  I don't get laid if I am not constantly on the lookout and I still like having sex.

I give Maddy a tour of my condo before we settle on the couch in the living room. Maddy is wearing a worn purple tie-dyed pullover hoodie and black leggings.  Her long curly blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail.  I turn on the big screen over the fireplace but our conversation keeps us from getting drawn into any shows.  She is short on time.  Part of me doesn't mind that.  There is little for us to do even though the February weather is mild and I am not that into her.

After a while, we head upstairs, undress, and get under the covers.  She says my body is warm, usually, it is the girl that is warmer than me.  I ask her if she is okay.  "Heck yeah," she says.  "You are hot."  All the yoga, weight training, and other exercises are good for something.  I thank her for the compliment without giving her one in return.  I find her average and I am not big on false flattery.

It is our first time having sex.  I don't pull out the toys or throw her into multiple positions.  I take it slow and see what she is like.  She gets excited quickly during foreplay, it gets me aroused and I enter her.  She cums once and I cum also a few minutes later.

After, we are lying in bed. She says, "You have a large dick." 

"Really?  I have not had any complaints but I think of myself as average." I reply.

She disagrees.

The Gymnast enjoyed sex with me too.  Both girls are more than half my age, that alone should be a confidence booster.  Still, they do not take the place of a meaningful relationship.  Billy didn't care about my physical appearance or my bedroom prows. She was there for me.

Somehow I need to translate the confidence these encounters give me towards meeting someone age-appropriate.  Someone I find interesting and attractive.  I have not figured that out yet.  On paper, as they say, I am mediocre.  In person, I am a cut above.  I need to remember that.

On The Horizon

I have been watching the Gymnast's posts on Instagram as she makes her way through Europe.  She spent the first week in Amsterdam and is now in Germany.  She does not post often, but when she does, they are playful and fun.  I am glad for her.  I only wish she was not going to be away for three months.  I have been making attempts to meet people on Bumble and Plenty of Fish but to be honest, no one strikes my interest.  I find myself going back to Seeking Arrangements and looking for another Gymnast.

My conversations with Billy always set me off in the wrong direction.  Suddenly I find myself racing to keep up with her in some marathon toward happiness.  In reality, I should be happy already.  My life is calm, and I have the ability to enjoy the experiences that come to me. 

Billy isn't happy. Her life is not better since she left me.  She is no closer to being happy.  She is in the same predicament different house. Tinkerbell said, "She is with Walmart, and you were Target."
She may have fallen in love with someone else, but it has not brought her closer to the life she dreams about. That life is still a long upward climb.

Despite the breakup, the mysterious pains in December, and my father's death, I have managed to do more than sit around.  I started yoga, and I am in better shape than I have been in 35 years. I have more disposable income, and I met the Gymnast, who is much better in bed than Billy.  Who knows, when she returns, maybe she will go to Vegas with me, and we may just pick up where we left off, which would be fine with me.

Still, Billy leaving strikes directly at the core of my issues, and I am not sure why.  Whenever I have been left by a woman, someone better has come along.  When my ex divorced me, I ended up meeting Tinkerbell.  Tinkerbell has become like family, and I know she will always be there for me.  When Tinkerbell and I broke up, I met Billy, and although it was a struggle at first, I loved being with Billy, and our time together really healed me.

Looking back, I am glad I got divorced.  I am glad Tinkerbell and I are friends and not lovers, and I am glad I am not dealing with Billy and her addiction.  Someone better is on the horizon.  It just takes time. I need to remember that.

Departure

The Gymnast: Shall I come over for a little?

Bathwater: Lol, you know I have been thinking about fucking you all morning.  I won't be home till 5:30.

Gymnast:  I work from 5 to 8 so maybe after but I wouldn't be able to stay tonight.

Bathwater: Okay, but I am going to put the blindfold on you and tie you to a chair downstairs and go down on you until you cum.

Gymnast:  Sounds fine with me.

She never says no to my suggestions, which has my mind constantly shuffling through sexual fantasies.  Our most enjoyable encounters don't involve complicated porn scenes.  I like the mornings after she sleeps over.  She is not a morning person, but once she is up, we will cuddle in beneath the covers, and she will open up about her past.  She is a mixture of hardship and lack of direction, but she is smart and will find her way.

This week she leaves for a three-month trip in Europe with a friend.  I am going to miss having her around, but it is better not to get too attached.  We talk about going to Las Vegas in May.  We will see how she feels when she returns.  She sought out our arrangement after her ex-boyfriend died to make extra money for this trip.  Pretty girls don't stay single for long.  She will find someone and our arrangement will end.

I would like to find a more traditional relationship.  Just interacting with The Gymnast shows me how long it can take to become comfortable with someone.  I don't remember it being that way with Billy.  Being with Billy was constant drama. One problem followed the next.  It was a relationship forged through a sort of Stockholm Syndrome.

Book clubs and yoga are filling my time, but they are not introducing me to new people.

It is hard to let go.  I find myself wanting the eight years with Billy to have some meaning, but does it?  I am often bitter about how it ended.  It is easy to hate her when she is no longer a part of my life.  Do I erase all traces of her?  Should I delete all her photos?  What is the right way to move on?  My time with the Gymnast has shown me there is still fun to be had beyond Billy but is there another relationship?

The Gymnast’s departure is leaving me sad.  I am not emotionally attached to the Gymnast, but her departure is stirring up old memories.  She will be gone for three months.  Billy has only been gone for six months.  Life is a series of events.  Starting over seems to be the common theme.  I suppose I need to get used to it. 

Winter Night (More Antics)

Tuesday afternoon, I sent the Gymnast a text.

Bathwater:  I will give you a sensual massage tonight until you are nice and wet. Then I am going to fuck you against the wall. I am actually getting hard just thinking about it.

Her only reply was to tell me she had bought me an edible to help with my stomach pains and relax me. Tuesday night, she came over after teaching gymnastics. She probably made another stop along the way. It was after 10:45 pm before she arrived. I was tired and already in bed watching TV.

 

I hear her enter through the garage and make her way upstairs. She takes off her hoodie, tosses her backpack on the floor next to the bed, and slides under the covers next to me. I am watching a series on Netflix called the 2000s. The episode ironically discusses the Iraq war and sounds like what is happening today in the region.

 

The Gymnast leans over the side of the bed. I admire the silhouette of her ass as she stretches out to retrieve her backpack. She wears a pair of black yoga pants and a bright turquoise tee with the word coach and her name on the back. She sits up and hands me the edible. I thank her and tuck it away in my nightstand for future use. She pulls a brownie out for herself and takes a bite.

"You are going to be asleep in no time," I tell her. 

"I'll be fine. I smoke a lot of weed." She assures me.

"I know. You were high yesterday when you came over."

I switched off Netflix and turned on Deadpool 2 from my Amazon account. I had her sit in front of me, between my legs, and began to massage her back under her shirt. It wasn't the sensual massage I had in mind, but I was content to watch the movie with her. I undo her bra, and she removes it in that skilled way women do without taking off their shirts. I spend time pressing my fingers into her back, massaging her shoulders, and occasionally cupping her breast before pulling her back to lay on top of me.

 

We watched the movie this way. She makes it almost to the end before she starts to drift off.   She feels me peeking over to see if she is still awake and opens her eyes. I turned off the movie, and we shifted positions. The Gymnast lays next to me on her back, and I am on my side regarding her. 

"Are we having sex tonight? You are not much of a morning person, and I have to get up early."

"We can have sex tonight," she replies, but her sleepy eyes do not reassure me.

She removed her yoga pants under the covers, and I rolled over on top of her. I gave her a quick kiss before working my way down her body. I go down on her till she is nice and wet before rolling over and having her reciprocate. It doesn't take long for her mouth to get me nice and hard, and I enter her missionary.   I fucked her with slow long strokes grinding her against me with each thrust.

It is not against the wall like I imagined, but the winter nights leave the bedroom chilly. I am not complaining, though. She wraps her legs around me, encouraging my thrusts with her legs and her kisses. I slow the pace when she cums and tell her to turn over.

 

"You are so demanding," she tells me.

I like to toss her into different positions when we are having sex. She gets up on all fours and spreads her legs wide so she is at the right height for me to enter her. Her ass looks incredibly round and inviting. I slide back into her. My pace is faster and more forceful, and I grab hold of her ass to control the rhythm. She knows it is all about my need to finish now, and she surrenders herself to me.   It is an intense climax for me, and I collapse forward onto her wrapping my right arm around her waist. Her body is amazing, hard, and firm in all the right places.

After we clean up, we regroup under the covers. I tell her I won't poke and prod her in the morning because we need to get up early. "Thank you for showing me life and fun are not over. I was having a hard time since Billy left."

"What are you going to do when I am gone?"  She asks. 

"I have something to look forward to. Your return, and not the way part of me wishes Billy would try to return just so I can say fuck you."

The Gymnast falls asleep in minutes, snoring loudly next to me. It takes me longer to fall asleep. In the morning, I get up and shower without disturbing her. She is not a morning person at 10 am, and it was only 7 am. I dressed and went downstairs to take care of the cat and make myself something to eat. I woke her fifteen minutes before we had to leave.

"I am sorry, dear. I should have thought about it. If you weren't parked behind me, I would just leave you here to sleep."

"It's okay. I will just go home and fall back to sleep."

Afternoon Antics

My stomach pains seem to be vanishing as quickly as they came.  It has been three days in a row since I have had any discomfort.  Does this mean it was the holiday stress? The holidays did suck, but the most stressful part was my stomach pains.  I have not returned to a normal diet. I feel like I have the pains under control by eating lightly.

I am happier now that the holidays are over.  The new year has me feeling somewhat relieved.  I am feeling old.  I am beginning to understand what Billy thought in the back of her mind about our age difference (28 years).  Eight years of common history together helped to lessen the gap.

Friday night, the Gymnast came over.  She allowed me to restrain her to the bed with a set of straps I bought for Rose but never got to use.  After, we fell asleep watching Suicide Squad.  She thinks she should be Joker next year for Halloween because she has a similar hand tattoo, but I remarked she is the spitting image of Harley Quin.  While she is usually subdued and quiet when she is around me, I think there is a matching wild side when she has had a few drinks in her.

Saturday after The Gymnast left, I went to Tinkerbell's to help her frame out the opening of a bathroom closet and install some shelves inside.  Tink thinks the Gymnast is plain, but she is a harsh critic.  I spent the afternoon helping Tink.  I was tired when I returned home.  The stomach issue has kept me from eating and exercising through December.  I was out of shape.  I settled into my bed early and turned on the movie Avatar in an attempt to make the most of my Disney+ subscription.

Around ten, I noticed the Gymnast had texted me earlier in the evening.

The Gymnast:  I am horny as fuck, but I am on a time schedule.  Are you free right now?

I did not bother replying till the morning.  I figured she was never in one place too long, and a hot twenty-one-year-old girl can always find a way to satisfy those needs.  I told her she could come over later Sunday if she still had the itch.  I didn't hear from her again until Monday.

The Gymnast:  Still on for tomorrow?

Bathwater: Of course. I hope you will still be as horny.  Although I think your libido is more financially driven.

Ours is a mutually beneficial arrangement.  She gets paid for spending time with me.

The Gymnast: I don't know, I have been really horny these last couple of days.  I could come over today for a bit or just wait for tomorrow.

Bathwater:  We should make the most of these next two weeks.

She is leaving for Europe in two weeks and will be there for three months, thus the reason for her need for money and the reason we met.  She has some time available in the afternoon.  My boss is out of town, so there is no need for me to make an excuse to leave early.  We decided to meet at my place at 3:00 pm.  After 2:00, I get another text from her.

The Gymnast:  Make sure to clean the cock ring, and then after I suck your dick, I want you to tie my hands behind my back and eat me out until you slide it in me, and then we can make our way so I'm laid over your bed, and I want you to fuck me slowly and hard.   Sorry really horny.  I'll see you shortly.

 When she arrived, we wasted no time going upstairs.  I tied her hands first and had her sit on my face while I licked her so I could watch and roam my hand over her body.  We ended up having sex in several positions, including over the side of the bed, before she ended up finishing me orally.  She is fun, and that is something I needed.  Something I am willing to pay for right now.  It beats paying a psychologist to complain about my life.

The Gymnast II

The Gymnast says hello as she comes through the garage door.  She is getting comfortable around my house.  This is what I want.  The cat takes off in fear as the Gymnast appears.  The cat hides in the basement so well that I cannot find her.  She does that now whenever anyone comes over.  I wonder if she would come out if Billy came for a visit.

The Gymnast has thin shoulder-length blonde hair.  The last four inches are lighter than the rest.  The result of having it colored long ago.  She is soft-spoken but a hustler who has taken care of herself since the age of fourteen.  She is young, twenty-one.  My age doesn't seem to bother her.  Our arrangement works for both of us.  I like the Gymnast.  We are comfortable together, but I do not have to worry about developing romantic feelings for her.  My warped sense of what is okay knows better than that.

She wears a full-length black Calvin Klein winter coat over black work pants and a yellow sweatshirt.   She seems bulky when she is in clothes, but when she is naked, there is no denying her perfect figure.  I have spent too many years with Billy.  Billy has always been underweight.  Her body has given me false expectations of what a girl should look like.

We exchange just a few words of conversation before moving upstairs, not because I am anxious to have sex with her, but since Billy left, I spend seventy percent of my time in my bedroom.  I just find it more comfortable.  The Gymnast Removes her clothes and crawls under the covers.  She complains that the bed is cold.  I strip down and join her.

"Do me a favor,"  I tell her.  "Take out your belly rings."  She doe not argue.  She already knows I like belly buttons, and those rings just hide them.

The Gymnast has firm B-cup breasts with pierced inverted nipples.  She has several tattoos on her body.  They all tend to the morbid.  There is a large set of roses hiding a skull on her upper abdomen with the words "Live To Die" beneath.  A small pair of angel wings are on her right side ribs, and a large floral pattern adorns the outside of her right upper thigh.  Several more are scattered over other areas of her body.  My favorites are on the backs of her hands.  They are clever pieces.  On her left is the lower portion of a skull.  On her right is a wide joker-inspired grin with red lips.  They are done so that when she places her hand over her mouth, the tattoo completes her face.

I debate whether to turn on a movie or pull out the new vibrator I bought for us (her idea).  The vibrator wins out.  I  know she is more likely to fall asleep if we start watching a movie.  I bring out the new toy, and we try out the various settings.  She admits to me she is a horny girl and has one at home.  Watching her passion swell quickly gets me going, and soon I am inside her.

She likes to make out while we are having sex.  I find it unusual, considering we are not lovers, and I am paying her to be there. It is the kind of detail that blurs the lines of our arrangement.  Sex with the Gymnast is good.  We do not have feelings for each other, but the same comfort I spoke of early makes it easy to be naked and open with her.

Late after we are spent, she curls up next to me to watch the Matrix.  She has never seen it.  The bed is no longer cold.  Her body, where it touches mine, is almost too hot to be next to.  Halfway through the movie, she rolls over and closes her eyes.

In the morning, I am up before her.  I stroke her soft skin beneath the covers before leaving her in bed and starting my day. I want to stay in bed with her, but I have a doctor's appointment.  I go downstairs and make a decaf cup of coffee and return to jump into the shower.  She is dressed and sitting in bed when I get out.

"I'm sorry.  Did I wake you?"  She gives me a coy look that says I did.

"I have to do Christmas shopping today anyway."

"You have a little time? I need to eat something before I go to the doctor.  Breakfast is one of the meals that never gives me pain."  I tell her.

We head downstairs.  I make her a cup of coffee.  She sits on the couch and scrolls through her phone while I make myself breakfast.  "I made a piece of bacon for you,"  I say, but she declines. She has decided she will go home and back to sleep before shopping.

We leave moments apart.  I get to my doctor's on time.  When the doctor gets to the room, we discuss all of my symptoms and the test I have already had.  He still thinks it is my gallbladder.  This was my initial theory, too, but the specialist had me doubting myself and thinking maybe a food allergy.  He schedules another test.  This one will induce gallbladder issues if they are present.  Sounds like fun.  It is on the twenty-seventh.  My Christmas vacation will be filled with more pain, and I will probably get my gallbladder out after the first of the year when all my deductibles rollover.  Life is not fair!

Pain

I have been having stomach issues for about three weeks now. They crept up on me suddenly. I suppose I was ignoring earlier signs. I tend to ignore symptoms. At fifty-five, everything hurts sometimes or other. I wound up in the ER a few times and at a specialist's office. The specialist was an ass. After several tests, they found nothing significant. Just some moderate irritation of the stomach and small intestine.

I find it hard to believe moderate irritation has sent me to the ER and keeping up every night in pain. The tests do not offer any alternatives. So much for my high pain tolerance. I reached out to Billie last week. Frustrated and in pain, she is all I wanted. I cannot explain why. The comfort, I guess. Right now, she is less tangible to me than Rose or the Gymnast. But the relationships I have with Rose and the Gymnast are superficial, based on sex and money.

The stomach issues have set me back. I felt like I was making progress. Expanding my mind and getting over the past. Now I am not so sure. I have hated the holidays ever since the divorce. I find myself alone, emotional, and in pain this year. Just another crappy ending to a crappy year.