Lydia Goldman herself was not what Monica had expected. She’d sounded quite young, from Monica’s vantage point in the toilets at the retreat, but ...he was at least fifty. Her silver grey hair was short and she wore no makeup save for a bit of gloss and a hint of blush. She smiled at Monica and buzzed her secretary to bring in some coffees. ‘So,’ she said, when the drinks were served, and they’d made some small talk about the weather and the retreat and the stupid paintballing exercise. ‘I hear. She saw me and smiled; her teeth weren’t straight, her skin was rough and sun damaged, her hair was a mess.And I loved her like I’d never loved before. Her smile was angelic, happy, sexy. Mike’s stiff penis against her cheek was a dash of salt in the sweet dish, a dose of reality in the fantasy.Heather didn’t love me.She liked me, she liked to laugh at my jokes, listen to my stories, tell me her own stories, and have sex. But she didn’t see me as a long term lover or partner. Just a stiff old. More

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