Can I Give You a Lift?

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Babes

Lusting for an older woman.

*

Author’s Note

I’m back in the slow-building romance mood again with a tale of two lovely women finding second chances in the middle of life. No college coeds or spankings here, just a sappy MILF love story with some first-time jitters.

Enjoy!
-Wax Philosophic

*

The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

*

Can I Give You a Lift?

“Oh my god, this woman is so gorgeous.” Funny that this is the first thought entering my mind as I sign in for my appointment. An office full of incredibly fit physical therapists, not to mention the two college interns milling about, and I always find myself drawn to Ava, the middle-aged receptionist.

“You’ve cut your hair,” she remarks, barely meeting my glance as I slide the clipboard back over the desk.

“Just a trim,” I say. “You’re actually the first to notice.”

She smiles, and I find myself captivated by her beautiful, dark eyes. I am unsure of her ancestry, maybe Hispanic, perhaps Middle Eastern. I’m curious, but not inclined to ask. I don’t want to be known as that creepy client who hits on the office staff.

“You ready Dani?” I hear.

“I suppose so,” I answer. “You’re not going to hurt me too much are you?”

“No. You’re actually improving quite a bit. Today should be easy for you.” My therapist leads me over to the equipment in the middle of the room. Somehow I doubt that anything she has planned for me is going to be easy.

Though after an hour of exercises I feel like she might actually be right. I can walk much better and I’m not nearly as stiff as I was when I started this round of treatment.

“Same time next week?”

“Yep,” I reply, gathering up my coat and scarf.

“Ava, you got a ride home?” my therapist hollers. Upon hearing this I slow down, taking my time putting my arms into the sleeves of my winter jacket. The rest of the staff has cleared out, gone for the day. Only the three of us remain.

“I’m fine to walk,” Ava says. “It’s not far.”

“I can give you a lift,” I offer. “It’s too cold to be walking.” I seriously hope I did not just cross the line into creepy client territory, but Ava smiles at me. She still won’t quite meet my gaze, but I do enjoy seeing her smile.

“OK,” she says. That’s it, just OK. I want to take her by the chin and raise her eyes to me. Tell her to stop hiding that beautiful face, and those enchanting eyes. But I don’t. I simply gesture to where my car is parked as my therapist turns the key to lock up. We all say our goodbyes and Ava hops in on my passenger side.

“I thought you had a car,” I say, trying for some easy conversation as I stick my key in the ignition.

“I do, it’s just been in the shop for a few days.”

“Must be serious,” I say, turning the key and starting the engine.

“Not really, I’m just waiting until payday to pick it up.” She seems to be busy studying the parking lot through the window rather than looking at me. “I’ve had a bit of a tough time lately.”

“Which way to the mechanic?” I say.

I think she senses where I’m going with this. “Really, I can’t let you do that,” she insists.

“Ava, I’m driving you to the mechanic’s, so unless you want us to visit every shop in town until I get it right, you could help me out with some directions.”

I can see she’s smiling. Still won’t raise her gaze to mine, but I can see her lips turning up at the corners. “Take a right,” she says.

*

The next time I sign in for my appointment, there is a plate of baklava waiting for me. “This looks very tempting,” I say. “Is it homemade?”

“Yes. It’s the least I could do,” she says and smiles. Damn that girl though, she still won’t meet my eyes. Then in a whisper I hear, “Thanks for the loan.”

“It’s not a loan,” I remind her in an equally hushed tone.

“Well at least …” she starts, but I cut her off as I see my therapist walking in our direction.

“We’ll discuss it later.”

I finish up my exercises in record time, and my therapist pronounces me very much improved. Just a few more sessions and I should be walking like a normal human being instead of a peg-leg pirate. I feel pretty good, almost giddy as I stand at the front desk contemplating upcoming appointment times.

“I still owe you for the car,” Ava reminds me, as I sign up for my next series of appointments.

“Dinner,” I say. Where did that come from? What makes me think she’s even interested? What if she’s married, with kids? What if …? Oh, fuck it. “Have dinner with me and we’ll call it even.”

“OK,” she says. That’s it, just OK.

I’m not really sure what to expect as Ava turns her key in the lock, opening the door to her apartment. I had planned on us going to a restaurant, something casual like burgers or pizza, but after my raving over her baklava, Ava has insisted on cooking for me.

“Sorry,” she says, “it’s a little messy. The kids güvenilir bahis were here visiting this weekend and I haven’t had much chance to clean up.”

I look around. If anything is out of place, I can’t find it. “Looks better than my place,” I say, and leave it at that.

Ava smiles, but still won’t quite meet my eyes.

“Why do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“You never really look at me when you smile.”

She’s fidgeting, her gaze wandering here and there as she answers. “I don’t know. I guess I never realized I was doing it.”

I place my finger under her chin and lift her face to mine. “Well stop it,” I tell her. “It hides your eyes, and you have beautiful eyes.” Oh my god! Did I really just say that? I wait for Ava to slap my face and send me packing.

But she doesn’t. Instead she just blushes. “Thanks,” she says, “it’s been a while since I’ve heard that.”

Dinner is amazing. I’m so glad we didn’t go the burger or pizza route. Ava blushes again as I tell her what a wonderful cook she is, how I’ve never had anything this good before.

“Then it shouldn’t be too hard to lure you back,” she says, the first bold thing to come out of her mouth. She still won’t look me in the eye though.

“No,” I admit. “No, it won’t.”

*

It wasn’t hard to lure me back at all. A few more dinners — some at her place, her idea, and some at restaurants, my idea — and that’s all it took. Well, that and the wonderful goodnight kiss I got last time I left her apartment.

I had really wanted to invite myself back inside, to see where the night would go, but Ava seemed to be back to her shy hesitant self again. I knew why. I think I was the first woman she had ever kissed, well romantically at least.

I had gotten the full story over dinner, just before I got my kiss. How her kids had grown up and gone off to college one day, and her husband had gone off with a younger woman the next. She described it as, “he said he still loved me, but he just wasn’t in love with me.” I’d heard that line before too. It still stings.

Now that I knew the reason for her shyness, her lack of confidence, I set about making a plan to lift her up a bit. I wanted to show her that not everyone in the world was so cold. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in tasting Ava’s lips again.

*

I suppose you could say that Ava and I were dating now, since we seemed to be spending an awful lot of time together these days. And it’s all strictly non-professional — I’m done with physical therapy unless I have another relapse.

“Sorry about the take-out,” I say as we move to the living area of my condo, “I wish I had your talent in the kitchen, but I don’t.”

“It’s fine,” she says, taking a seat next to me. Like right next to me. I don’t mind, not one bit, as I scroll through my Netflix queue.

“Stop me if you see something you like.”

Ava pulls her legs up onto the couch and wraps her arms around me. I have a feeling that means she’s found something she likes, and that it really doesn’t matter what we watch. “This OK?” I ask.

“Mmm-hmm,” is all I get as she pulls me in tighter. I honestly can’t remember what it is we agreed on, and I don’t think either one of us pays it much attention. Instead, I find myself concentrating a lot on Ava’s lips. She’s so tender and warm, and still just a little bit shy.

Her shyness gets me a little excited, and soon Ava is underneath me as I continue exploring her warm, wonderful mouth. We’re both a little bolder now, as our tongues intertwine, and soft moans fill the room.

I let my hand wander to her waist and begin tugging at her sweater. I feel her body go rigid under me. “Too soon?” I ask.

“No,” she says, but continues to resist.

“We don’t have to.”

“I — I want to,” she says, “it’s just that — well, I’ve had two kids and …”

I place my finger gently over her lips. “It’s OK,” I assure her. “Would you feel better if I turn the light off for our first time?”

She nods, and I reach up to twist the lamp-switch. It’s not really that dark, and I can still make out the grin crossing her face. “Does that mean there’s going to be a second time?” she asks.

“Hmm?”

“You said you’d turn off the light for our first time.”

“Oh yes,” I say. “Definitely a second. And a third. And maybe a fourth, but by then I plan to have you tied to my bed and begging me to let you …” I let that thought trail off. This is nice just as it is, the two of us on my couch, enjoying each others gentle touches and caresses.

And those lips. I was definitely falling in love with Ava’s lips.

I kiss her again. And again. She’s let me pull her top up a little, and I journey down to show my appreciation by planting a number of kisses on her stomach. She’s no college coed, but then neither am I. And honestly, she doesn’t give herself enough credit.

“You’re sexy,” I say, as I lay a glistening tongue-trail all over her tummy.

“Yeah right,” she says. I feel her trembling under me.

“No really.” türkçe bahis I let my hands glide over the fabric of her stretch pants, under her shirt, ever upward. “You pull off the leggings and sweater look quite nicely.” Boldly, I touch my fingers to the lacy fabric of her bra. “And even don’t get me started on the boots you had on today.” I finish up with a nip to her earlobe.

I think I may have actually convinced her. She’s thrown her head back, exposing her neck, and is arching her back as I continue exploring. I drag my tongue over her throat. “It’s getting warm, don’t you think?”, I offer, tugging her sweater up further.

“Mmm,” she moans. I almost have a full view of what Ava’s been hiding under those bulky sweaters all this time. I plant a few more kisses on her stomach, inching my way up. I’m practically salivating, I’m so excited about what comes next.

But not Ava. Ava’s gone rigid again.

“Too fast?” I ask.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

I lay my head on her chest, just shy of those beautiful breasts I was hoping to have for dessert. “It’s OK,” I say, taking her hand in mine. I bring it to my mouth and kiss each fingertip. “I’m not in a hurry.”

I hear her let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” she says.

I try to convince Ava to spend the night, tell her that we don’t have to do anything but snuggle. She tells me she has to work in the morning. I didn’t think the clinic was open on Saturdays, but I keep that thought to myself as we lay there on the sofa. I even joke that I’ll make pancakes in the morning.

I try my best to loosen her up, but she’s gone rigid again.

*

It’s been two weeks since I last saw Ava, and my phone calls and texts have all gone unanswered. “Maybe she’s gotten back with her husband,” I think as my worst fears begin to surface. “Maybe she’s decided she doesn’t want to date a woman.” Ava’s a sweetheart, and I love those lips — but at this point in my life, with everything else going on — I just don’t need the drama.

In a sudden fit of self-righteous conviction, I delete her number.

My conviction lasts for about another week. I’ve got a cold and I’m really craving some of Ava’s homemade soup. Plus I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream about her lips almost every night. “Fuck!” I pound my fist on the countertop and crack the seal on another can of soup. “I am too old for this shit.”

I pull out my phone, fully prepared to beg, plead, whatever it takes — but I’ve deleted her number. I stash the soup in the fridge, pop a couple of Tylenol, and pull on my coat.

*

“Dani, no offense, but you look horrible.” It’s my therapist standing by the door.

“Back off sister, I’ve been sick.” I blow past her on a beeline for the front desk.

“You’re here for the money,” Ava says, and reaches for her purse.

“I’m here for you,” I say, not caring who hears me this time. “You don’t return my calls, my texts.” Poor Ava is beet-red, no doubt because of my little tirade. I don’t care. I’m sick, and I’m too old for this adolescent bullshit. “Is it over?” I ask. “Could you at least give me some closure?”

“I — I don’t know.” She’s pulling that trick of not looking me in the eye again. God, that is so frustrating. I want to grab her chin and force her to look me in the face when she dumps me. I think I deserve that courtesy at least. But I do nothing of the sort.

I take a deep breath and wait.

“I — I’m sorry,” she says, “I just …” She’s glancing around at the people who are beginning to take notice.

“Hold that thought,” I tell her in what I hope is a gentle tone. She still isn’t looking at me. “Dinner,” I say, “at a restaurant. We drive separately. No expectations. My treat.”

“OK,” she says. That’s it, just OK.

“Just go, you two. I’ll cover the front desk.” My therapist, bless her heart.

“Thanks. Sorry I was rude earlier.”

*

Ava follows me to the diner, but refuses my offer to buy her dinner. We compromise on coffee and agree to have a look at the menu after we talk.

Except Ava’s not talking.

She’s doing everything but talking. Spinning her cup, fiddling with her spoon, studying the countertop, but no talking.

“So what gives?” I say. I immediately regret my choice of words, and my tone of voice. “Sorry,” I continue. I touch my hand to her forearm. She shrinks back a bit, but doesn’t pull away entirely.

“I’m no good at this,” she offers.

I caress her arm, waiting.

“I — I don’t …” she starts. “I’ve never been with another woman before. I don’t know what to do.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously? That’s what this is about?”

She pulls her arm away, and I realize my mistake. “I’m sorry,” I say. This is really getting to be a habit with me. I place my hand on hers, gently I hope, and thankfully she doesn’t move away. “I didn’t realize. We’ll go slow, I promise. If you ever feel uncomfortable …”

She’s hanging her head and staring at the counter. Moving my hand to her back, I caress her in what I hope is a reassuring gesture. I swivel my stool around to face güvenilir bahis siteleri her. “I really like you Ava.” I pull a tissue from my pocket and use it to dab at my nose. “And I could really use some more of your chicken soup.”

I can see the corners of Ava’s mouth turning up, and for once she’s looking me in the eye as she smiles. “Can we start with pancakes?” she asks, and squeezes my hand. “I just watched a plate of them go by and it smelled so good.”

“Sure,” I say, and give her a squeeze in return. “But I’m having soup.” I reach for a menu, but turn my head to sneeze instead. “S’cuse me.”

After Ava’s pancakes and my bowl of soup, she insists on taking me back to her apartment. And after a token show of resistance, I agree. I spend the weekend letting Ava play nurse and take care of me. And her soup is so much better than what I had at the diner it’s almost a crime.

By Sunday afternoon I nearly regret that I’m feeling better, but Ava assures me we both need to go to work in the morning. She also tells me how much she’s looking forward to next weekend, when I’m her girlfriend again instead of her patient.

I’m practically walking on air as I leave her apartment. She actually used the word girlfriend.

*

Somehow I manage to survive forty hours of toil, and five long days apart, as I wait for Friday night to finally come around. We’re standing in my front entryway, shedding our heavy winter coats when Ava turns toward me.

Just like the first time I saw her, I am entranced by her dark eyes. Though this time she is actually meeting my gaze. She reaches up to touch my cheek.

Zap!

I jump as the static charge arcs from Ava’s finger. Her eyes immediately drop to the floor. “Sorry,” she says.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ll live.” I smile and lift her chin so that I can look into her eyes. I’m leaning forward to gently touch my lips to hers. “See, we’re safe now.” I look deeper into her beautiful, dark eyes and see that her pupils have gone wide. My confidence bolstered, I lean in for a second time.

Ava’s arms are wrapped around me now, pulling me close. Her sweater is soft and inviting as we embrace, deciding where to go from here. I know where I’d like this to go, but I hold back, not wanting to frighten her off again. “Wanna watch a movie?” I offer.

“Actually, can we just talk?”

“Sure.” I take her hand and lead her to the sofa. Ava sits down and tucks her legs up under her, but she has yet to touch me. Her hands are resting in her lap. “You OK?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says. “I promise not to freak out this time.”

“And I promise to go slow.” I see the corners of her mouth turning up, and I place my finger under her chin, gently lifting her gaze to mine. Thankfully, there’s no shock this time.

“So what do we do?” she asks, “You know, together?”

I take Ava’s hand in mine and bring it to my lips. I plant a tiny kiss on the knuckle of her thumb. “What do you like?”

“Hmm,” she says, “this?” She leans in to briefly touch her lips to mine.

“I like that.” I place my hand behind her neck and bring her in for another, longer kiss. “What else?”

“I — I don’t know. What do women do together?”

I ponder her question for a moment, trying to put myself in her position. I run through a mental list all the wonderful things we could do together, as I try to think about what Ava would like, and what she’d be ready for. “Ava,” I say. “How would you feel if I asked you to just relax and let me take care of you?”

“OK,” she says. That’s it, just OK. But she’s looking at me, and she’s smiling.

“If I do something you don’t like, you tell me, and I won’t do it again.” I kiss her on the tip of her nose. “And if I do something you do like — well, be sure to tell me that too.” I place the next kiss on her chin. I hear Ava exhale. My next kiss is on her lips.

“I liked that,” she says, leaning her head back.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close to me. Taking full advantage of her exposed throat, I plant three more wet kisses on her neck. She’s quivering slightly.

I hear a soft moan. “Liked that.”

Feeling bolder, I place my tongue in the notch of Ava’s collarbone and take a long, slow path up to the dimple on her chin. I let my hand caress her back while I enjoy the taste of her skin. Ava’s shuddering increases steadily as I make the journey, and soon she has her arms about my neck.

“Mmm. Liked that,” she breathes.

I place a hand on the back of Ava’s head and pull her toward me. Her hair tickles my nose as I bring my lips to just under her ear. Tracing little wet circles on the tender skin of her neck, I hear a throaty moan escaping her lips.

I pause to nuzzle her neck. “You smell sexy,” I whisper.

Ava says nothing, just shivers. Drawing her earlobe between my lips, I suck on it for a moment while she continues to squirm underneath me. Satisfied with my ability to make Ava lose herself, I move back to her neck and resume planting kisses. “Oh, Dani,” she heaves, “I’ve never been touched like this.”

“See what you’ve been missing?” I tease. “And that’s just your neck.”

Ava lets out a long, heavy sigh and melts into me. I run my fingertips up and down her back, just lightly skimming the softness of her sweater.

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