He’s 23 and he wants me. Yes. You heard me twenty-three years old. Even to a cougar this would be smutty. A score, but smutty. A smutty score.
The odds are that Hector won’t be reading this blog. English is his second language. I’m guessing Spanish is his first, although through his heavy accent it’s kinda difficult to tell.
Who cares? I understand him fine when he says “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” WOW…which is MOM upside down…which is what he might call me if he thought about our age difference. (35 years)
Hector and I met when I hired him last month to barbecue. Immediately I saw that he really knew how to work my grill. My guests were drinking and teasing him…suggesting he wear a speedo and “Hey, Hector – aren’t you hot by the heat? How about you take off your shirt?”
He smiled good natured pretending not to understand – and at the time I was thinking he was thinking “What a bunch of old pathetic drunk people.”
Well, this pathetic old drunk person locked eyes with him in the kitchen. When he leaned over the counter and told me “You have beautiful eyes” I batted them. Isn’t that what a woman does when a man tells her this? Who knows? It’s been a while.
Perhaps, I encouraged him. I sampled those 23 year old lips right after I slipped him the 100 bucks for cooking and clean-up. In the dining room away from wide eyes and big mouth friends we kissed…a nice kiss that promised future kisses, etc.
The next day he called. I thought, “Boy, whatever outfit I wore yesterday…I’m wearing that everyday.”
I put him off. Embarrassed and a little unable to understand him on the phone, I found out he is one of 19 brothers and sisters. He’s a middle child, but in his family middle is number nine.
He probably didn’t get too much attention growing up and one thing’s for sure – he’s used to sharing his bed.
I actually considered it. I knew in my travels I would never be the pick of the day in a room full of 25, 35, and 45 year old women. Maybe, I could hold my own next to a 50 year old, but Hector was my ticket for unpaid sex with a stud.
He continued to call every week wisely not referring to me as “Mommy.” Just yesterday I firmly explained to him that I need to be with someone who remembers where they were when Kennedy was shot…
That’s my criteria and I’m sticking to it. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…