The Old Man in the Club by Curtis Bunn Page A

about me?”
    â€œNot really, not specifically,” she answered. “I told her that you make me feel mature and she gave a little speech about how wonderful it is that a man could do that. And later she told me to assert myself and to keep you from going out to meet other women.”
    Elliott said, “How do you and your peers put it? ‘It’s not that serious.’ ”
    â€œBut that’s the problem,” Tamara said. “I think it might be that serious. I didn’t give you the full picture on how I felt about us being intimate last night. The truth is, it was wonderful. I wasn’t trying to compare you to men I have slept with, younger men. But I couldn’t help it. It’s impossible not to. And it was made more impossible to notice because it was so different.”
    Ellliott had not received any complaints from the other two twenty-somethings he had slept with, and he was proud of his performance with her.
    â€œI thought the men I had slept with were doing something,” she said. “I enjoyed it with them, but they were really jumping up and down in me, showing off how long they could go or how big they were—and all of them weren’t that big. And there weren’t that many, either, so don’t get any bad ideas about me.”
    Elliott did not respond. He listened. And even in that he was impressed.
    â€œSee what I’m saying?” Tamara said. “A younger guy would have had a bunch of questions and interrupted me. You are listening. I love it. Thank you. But anyway, what I was getting at is that younger men basically fucked me. Excuse my language, but it’s the truth. They made sure they got theirs. They either were not concerned about pleasing me or didn’t know how.
    â€œThe worst part is that I was okay with that. I didn’t know any better—until last night. In your mind, you probably fucked me, too. But the way it felt on my end was loving and careful but strong and attentive. You caressed me and admired my body with your hands and kissed me delicately on my neck and shoulders and made me feel like a woman, like you cared about how I felt.
    â€œYou enjoyed yourself; I could tell. But it wasn’t only about youbeing pleased. You wanted to please me. And experiencing that made me wet, made me feel alive and made me want to make sure you were pleased. Through you, I experienced for the first time what making love really means. I would never have expected that. But now I want more.”
    Elliott smiled. “See, how long would it have taken you to text all that?” he joked.
    Tamara laughed. “What can I say? I’d like to believe at some point I would have said, ‘Let’s just talk about it.’ But you beat me to that.”
    â€œWell, thank you for all those words that will always mean something to me,” Elliott said. “I’m not sure what to say after that except making love to you felt wonderful. Your body is soft and made for caressing. And I want to feel it again.”
    Still, he was not going to miss the party. So he came up with a solution. “How about I leave a key for you downstairs and you meet me here around twelve-thirty, one. That’ll give me some time to show my face, mingle and get back to you.”
    â€œYou have to go to that party, huh?” Tamara asked.
    â€œI made a promise that I would be there and I’m trying to make a compromise with you,” Elliott said. “I had these plans for about three weeks. I’m willing to cut my night short to accommodate you.”
    Tamara had a moment where her age showed. “Don’t do me any favors,” she snapped.
    â€œIs that what you really want to say to me?” He had vowed to not get overly reactionary to a woman’s flippant remarks. She’s just being a woman, was his thought process, chauvinistic as it might have sounded.
    â€œYou’re right. I’m sorry,”