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Dirty Old Man

Posted on August 23, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

He felt like a man in a mid-life crisis. He was not yet thirty-five and he wondered whether that meant that the crises were coming earlier or whether he was destined to have a short life. Either way he didn’t think he’d like the answer. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but his first suspicion that he might be going through some sort of ‘phase’ came from the feeling that he was turning into a dirty old man.

He realized that thirty-three was not really that old considering that everybody talked about thirty being the new twenty. So he was twenty-three or maybe he was twenty-one and one-thirds or whatever the proportionate math worked out to be…he wasn’t exactly sure. Either way, he knew that he didn’t like what his life had become and he wanted more out of it than hanging out with people who only seemed to know stories about their babies and other horrors of domestication. He was single, willing to mingle and surprised to find that the only girls he could mingle with were not that far north of their eighteenth birthdays.

He found himself looking around in surprise on more than one occasion in public places like bars, movie theatres and restaurants. Where the hell were the twenty something-year-old single women? They were either unavailable or ugly. He marveled at how both those words started with U, leaving nothing for him. So he had to find refuge in the willing arms of skinny teens who seemed to know an awful lot about the lascivious arts.

He didn’t seem to be able to meet a girl (in that age group) who was averse to taking her kit off. If he didn’t know better he would have thought that he was some kind of Lothario. He had long resigned himself to the knowledge however, that dirty old man or not, he was strictly average. In fact if there had to be a mascot for the Law of Averages it would be him, blindfolded, in an unflattering gown holding up scales which were evenly balanced. That’s how average he was.

So he realized that it had to be his status. As a single man in his early thirties. That seemed to make the clothes fly right off the attractive girls. Maybe they were attracted to his experience. Maybe they thought he could teach them something. Since he was already depressed about dying early, in his mid-sixties instead of getting stuck in, consolidating his innings and going for a respectable Sachin Tendulkaresque century, he made himself feel better by partaking of all that still-delectable female flesh before they moved on to other boys and the ‘security’ of relationships. Security that allowed them to get fat and forever lose their ability to be hot and thin ever again.

Oh he knew that some of them would shed the pounds when they were shed by the men and that some of them might actually retain enough muscle tone to fight the onset of cellulite; but he also knew that it was a losing battle they had done little to prepare for. He noticed that shuddering at the thought of cottage cheese thighs helped him penetrate another ingénue with renewed gusto.

Until Arianna.

Unlike the other airheads with strong cheeks and powerful thighs Arianna was an enigma. He might have been tempted to wrap her in a riddle but he liked her unclad. Instead he wondered what was going through her head when she looked at him the way she did while they did the dirty animal deed with no care for the eardrums of neighbours around them or the strength of the bed under them. He wondered what she was thinking when they collapsed in a tangle of sheets and watched rivulets of sweat run off each other. He was fascinated by the fluid that traversed the twin peaks of her breasts, took a breather in the valley of her cleavage and then hauled ass for her belly button where it pooled in the most seductive miniature pond of ripples. He was torn between dipping his finger in the pooling sweat and asking her what she was thinking. To no one’s greater surprise than his own, the question won and he asked, “What are you thinking right now?”

She went all slit-eyed after sex and that’s exactly what she was doing as she breathed in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Her eyes scanned him through those barely-open eyelids and then she said, “That you’re a dirty old man.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you just violated me in the nastiest way possible and enjoyed every second of the ride.”

“So? We’re consenting adults.”

“Okay. If you want to call me that.”

“You’re twenty-one!”

“And you’re thirty-three.”

“No! What? How did you know that?”

“Driver’s licenses don’t lie.”

“Yeah well, thirty is the new twenty.”

“In which case I’m eleven.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“I probably don’t even have breasts yet. What have you done!”

“Stop it.”

“When I was born you were already twelve.”

“Okay.”

“When you were sixteen, I was four!”

“Fine.”

“Were you masturbating at sixteen? I’ll bet you were jerking off way before that.”

“Can we stop?”

“Dirty, dirty old man!” She smiled and reached for him. She didn’t look interested in holding his hand or anything but he was most impressed with his own recovery time. As his head lolled back he heard a car pull up and a door slam shut. He didn’t care, he was being transported to that special place that he went to when a girl knew what she was doing, down there. So he was pretty upset when she stopped with a popping sound. Upset enough to raise his head and open his eyes, “What?”

“I think it’s my mom. You better get out of here.”

He was out of bed and climbing into his clothes with a speed that surprised her. If they didn’t know better, one of them might have been tempted to think that he was The Flash, that’s how fast he was moving. By the time her mother had turned the key in the door and pushed her way into the flat they were at the dining table, textbooks were everywhere and Arianna was saying, “And Professor, what does this mean?”

He checked and saw that she had sketched an erect penis in the margin of her notebook. He wondered whether it was her impression of his organ or whether she was merely exploring her creative streak. Either way he realized that an answer was expected as her mother wandered closer so he said, “Yes that…is proof that the rest of the equation works. It makes the rest of the problems worthwhile because in some ways it can be the answer to everything.”

Arianna’s face went red from trying to stifle a laugh. She looked up and said, “Mom! Hi! This is Professor Karan from college. I needed a little help with my assignments and he’s been going around giving it to people who really, really need it.”

Her mother stepped forward with an outstretched hand and a smile, “Hi, I’m Meera.”

“Hello Mrs. Khanna.”

“No please, call me Meera.”

As he took in the extremely well-preserved Meera Khanna he realized that he wanted to do much more than merely call her by her first name. Actually he wanted her to call his name, over and over again while he tried with Senior what he had so successfully managed with Junior. After they had shared an awkward moment involving smiles and folded and unfolded hands he smiled at Arianna and said, “Well Arianna, I suppose you’ve got what you wanted. I’m sure you will be able to manage the rest on your own.”

“Yes Professor, but I might need you again.”

“Well, you know where to find me.”

They smiled at each other and then at her mother. He came out from behind the dining table because it was finally safe for him to do so and shook her mother’s hand again, “Pleasure meeting you Meera.”

“Thank you for coming. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble Professor.”

“Please, call me Karan. And no, she was no trouble at all. Nothing I couldn’t handle anyway.”

“That’s good to know.”

As he left Arianna’s home that night he knew whom he would be thinking of until his next conquest. She had to be less than ten years older than him and from what little he had been able to see she hadn’t let herself go when a man turned up in her life.

As he climbed into his car and drove off he wondered whether he would think of himself as less of a dirty old man if he went after a hot older chick. He remembered that they were called cougars now and he wondered just how sharp Meera Khanna’s claws would be.

It was a thought that brought a smile to his face.

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