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Lizzy came home from her real estate job late in the afternoon, pleased to see Rob’s truck in the yard, the young handyman she’d hired to do some work around the house.
At 66, Lizzy wasn’t up to the task of painting lawn furniture or fixing various things that always seemed to be need painting or fixing.
The single woman was long divorced, but happily so, dating now and then but engaging in no serious long-term relationships. And besides, the dating pool of acceptable men in her age range was fairly shallow. She’d endured the entreaties of well-meaning lady friends she should perhaps date younger men, but that was a concept she casually brushed aside.
But that was not to say she didn’t privately entertain the notion. She would look at younger men, some much younger, and wonder if they found her attractive. For her age, she was a very beautiful woman, well kept and athletic, tall with wispy light-blonde shoulder-length hair and a lean, angular body kept firm and shapely by her exercise routine.
She looked good, and she knew it, but wasn’t so sure anyone much younger than herself would.
She walked into her house, then out onto her spacious back deck, where Rob was hard at work, an industrious 21-year-old college senior eager to make a few bucks working around the well-to-do neighborhood for people with the means to contract the work out. She thought him quite handsome, with his athletic young body in tight short-sleeved denim workshirt and snug jeans, and messy mop of unruly blonde hair.
“Hi Rob, look at you go, you’ve done a lot of work today!” Lizzy said brightly, standing on the deck by Rob, who knelt and painted the deck railing and balustrades, long in need of a touch up.
“Oh hi, Mrs. Tomlin, didn’t hear you come out,” the boy said, turning sidelong to look at her silhouetted in the bright late-afternoon sunshine.
He liked what he saw, he always did. Lizzy wore a short khaki skirt and sleeveless white blouse and brown flats, her long sinewy arms and legs highlighted in the sunbeams, showing signs of age to be sure, with slight saggy flesh and wrinkles here and there, but nonetheless spectacular.
He was particularly smitten with her legs, and surreptitiously gazed at the long, freckled shins below her shortish skirt and tanned, muscular calves that flowed and flexed as she stood moving from foot to foot as she talked to him. He could see the slight wrinkles in her inner thighs exposed in the skirt that rose a few inches above her knobby little knees, and thought them rather sexy.
But Rob knew he’d never make a play for her, he was too shy, too polite, and confined his escapades with the elegant older woman to his masturbatory fantasies. And as much as Lizzy thought no handsome young buck like Rob would be interested in an old woman like her, likewise Rob thought no one as classy and beautiful as leggy Mrs. Tomlin would give him a second thought as a lover.
They chatted a bit longer, Rob drinking in the view of the sexy older woman until she left the deck.
“Been a long day, Rob, you finish up, I’m going up to my bedroom to change, maybe go for a run,” she said, walking away, Rob’s eyes riveted to the lovely calves flexing as she walked.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Tomlin…I had something I was going to ask you, but can’t remember now…if I do, I’ll let you know,” he smiled.
“No problem, Rob,” she called out as she entered the house, closing the slider.
Moments later, it dawned on him. He’d meant to ask about some kayaks and gear she had in the garage and wanted moved, but he wasn’t sure where to. He put down his brush, wiped his hands and went inside.