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He saw her first. She was extremely stylishly dressed in a knee-length, figure hugging black dress, matching hose and heels and seemed to be on her own as she walked towards the bar. He thought she was probably in her early fifties but with the figure of a woman twenty years younger - he allowed himself another good look at the way the dress was fitting her - but he’d had no luck with any of the women who actually were twenty years younger so he drained his drink and swaggered over to the bar, arriving at the same time she did. He ‘accidentally’ knocked her bag and offered up a swift apology.
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She had walked up to the bar and was about to signal the bartender when she felt her bag suddenly pull against her arm.
“Oh, I’m sorry-” she heard a voice say above her as she checked to see nothing was missing (it wasn’t). “Let me make it up to you.”
She looked coolly at him - a smart grey suit, white shirt and blue tie, now slightly loose to allow the top button of his shirt to sit unfastened. He was comfortably over six feet tall, probably at least a decade older than her, but with a trim figure, a flawless head of white hair and a cocky, confident manner that Michael had almost completely lacked.
“A single malt and whatever the lady is having-” he’d flagged down the bartender and was looking at her with a challenging smile on his face.
She mentally tossed a coin - heads I tell him where to go, tails I drink his money - and smiled slightly. “A dry white wine please,” she said as she turned towards the bartender. “And open a fresh bottle - not one of the ones that have been standing around all evening.”
The bartender suppressed a disgruntled frown as he turned to make their drinks.
He allowed himself a soft chuckle. “There’s no finer sight in all the world than a beautiful woman who knows exactly what she wants.”
She raised a slightly disdainful eyebrow. “You have no idea what I want, though I think it’s pretty clear what you do.”
He just chuckled again, paused for a moment to pay the bartender and passed her the glass of wine. “And yet you’re still talking to me,” he said as he clinked his glass against hers.
She took a sip of her wine, contemplated thanking him for it and walking away, then dismissed the idea. She had come out with the intention of meeting someone after all, even if Michael had been a disappointment in the end.
“So, are you on your own or are you meeting somebody?” he said as though reading her mind. He blatantly looked down the full length of her body and back to her eyes, an appreciative grin on his face as though saying you’re dressed far too fancy to be out on your own.
“I met somebody for dinner. He was too tedious and uninspiring to waste any more time on.” She looked him straight in the eyes as though to say prove you can do better.
He looked straight back into hers as though to say challenge accepted and raised his glass as though proposing a toast. “I’m William Winger, but you can call me Will.” He said as he took a sip and looked at her questioningly.
“Hi Will, I’m Ruth Edison. But you can call me Ruth,” she smiled softly back at him as she took a sip of her own drink and climbed onto a bar stool.
Conversation flowed smoothly after that. They talked about their jobs - he said he was a freelance management consultant, she initially thought that was a euphemism for unemployed, but she dismissed that with the thought that his suit and Scotch were too expensive for that. And besides, he had enough anecdotes of work that amusingly flirted with the fringes of legality that she found herself believing he was remunerated accordingly.
She told him she sat on the board of a local hospital and several charitable trusts - he found himself thinking that line of work paid better than he thought given that her dress and figure both looked like they cost real money to look as good as they did.
They talked about families and found they had something in common - they both had one child they had lost contact with, and one that refused to grow up and leave home - which led to the conversation becoming more serious and heartfelt than it had at any point until then. When he talked about how his ex-wife had blocked him from ever seeing his first son again she gave his elbow a supportive squeeze. When her voice cracked as she described how her drug addicted daughter had cut off all contact rather than take advantage of the therapy she tried to arrange that would preserve her Ivy League scholarship he squeezed her knee consolingly.
She looked down at his hand and then up at him again, her eyes wide. He grinned and removed his hand. “Got you thinking about something other than how terrible our kids are,” he chuckled.
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They were both surprised when the bartender said he needed to close the bar and they realised they were almost the last ones there. He pulled out his phone and started tapping on it.
“I know this place where the Scotch is much nicer than here and the atmosphere’s more private,” he said. “It’s only five minutes by Uber.” He said as he finished tapping and put the phone away.
She looked at him sharply. “Is it your apartment?”
He looked back with an expression of slight surprise on his face. “Would that be a problem?”
She thought for a moment. “No.”
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It took the Uber ten minutes to appear and another five to reach his apartment. This time when he took hold of her knee in the back of the car she looked down briefly but did nothing to stop him. Feeling encouraged, he kept caressing it until the car pulled up outside his apartment block and he paid off the driver.
“I believe I mentioned Scotch-” he said as the door closed behind them.
“Will,” she said sharply. “We both know why we came back here and the night isn’t getting any younger and neither are we.”
He smiled suddenly, his grin huge and teeth pearly white.
“I did say at the start of this evening that there’s no finer sight in all the world than a beautiful woman who knows exactly what she wants,” he said as he stepped up to her and pulled her towards him, their lips meeting in an intense kiss.
They made their way towards the bedroom, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes as they did so. His suit jacket and shirt joined her dress on the floor of the hallway, by the time they reached the bedroom her heels and pantyhose had joined his trousers and shoes in a crumpled heap by the door and by the time they reached the bed they were both naked.
“Dammit Ruth, you’re incredible!” He gasped as he broke off the latest kiss to really look at her.
“Stop talking Will,” she hissed as she pulled him towards her.
The lovemaking was measured and precise - to Ruth’s satisfaction, what he lacked in youthful energy he more than made up for in technique and experience and she buried her face in his neck and hissed into his skin as he climaxed inside her and her body responded with equal intensity.
Will chuckled softly as he withdrew from her and relaxed by her side, gathering her to him with one arm so she was resting on his chest. “It’s been a long time since it was that good,” he said contentedly.
“Me too,” she said so softly he wasn’t sure he heard.
He thought about asking her to repeat it, but instead suddenly yawned hugely. He looked down to see her eyes seemed to be drifting shut too and allowed himself to fall asleep.
XXXXXX
Will woke up the following morning to find Ruth sitting up in bed drinking a coffee. “Good morning,” he smiled up at her.
“You sound surprised,” she said. “Did you expect me to leave before dawn?”
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Wouldn’t have blamed you if you did, happy you didn’t.” He said.
She grunted amusedly at him. “Here,” she said, passing her mug of coffee for him to take a sip.
He thanked her and passed it back. She was looking at her phone so he reached for his.
“Huh,” he said. “It looks like yesterday was my lucky day in more ways than one.”
He passed the phone over in response to her curious expression. She scanned the message.
Hi, this is Jeffery Tobias Winger the son of William Winger. I have been trying to track down the father I last saw when I was 8 and believe it might be you. If this is correct I would like to meet as soon as possible. JTW
“That’s interesting,” she said. “Are you going to see him?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Thanksgiving’s coming up,” he said.