Chapter 1
THE CAPTAIN

The tenderest love, rawest lust.

Angel brought out these emotions in me from the start.

Of course Angel – not her real name, but how I‘ve thought of her from the start – was pretty, right smack in my Attractiveness Wheelhouse because that is Mother Nature at work. Her only concern is us humans creating more humans, so she ensures looks are the first thing men notice about a woman. Sue us.

So of course I noticed Angel was stacked, brunette, cute, athletic yet ladylike. It’s part of being a guy, especially when you’re probably old enough to be her father.

But there was something more. Angel was nice and made me laugh and didn’t seem to get worked up when things didn’t go quite right, which they seemed to do from time to time at the bank she worked at. I’ve been on my share of dates over the years, your share, too, probably, and I long ago stopped dating for looks.

But there was even more, something intangible that made me want to hold her when darkness fell and wipe her tears away.

So, after numerous visits to her teller window, I’d decided to ask her out. I’d been around the block once or twice and based on my decades of experience asking women out I was fairly certain she would say yes.

Actually, that’s a lie. I knew. And she knew I knew! And I knew she knew I knew! She was curious – about me, about our age difference, about whether or not the rumors she’d heard about older guys being really lousy in the sack were true.

And I was ready for the great love, frankly because I’d been a bachelor a long time. Happily. I’ve always enjoyed my own company and was never lonely. Heck, I’d even been engaged a couple of times, but my instincts had started telling me it was time to settle down, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts over the years because they will usually tell you how to get to where you want to go.

So all that was left was to ask her out and see how far our first date would take us.

Because you never know. Either a first date you had high hopes for turns out to blow, or it went really well and you never had a second date.

But I had a hunch.

———

Look, I am not stalker!

I swear. Really.

I merely aggregated assorted pieces of information I’d gathered over the past couple of weeks. Based on that aggregation, I happened to strongly suspect that Angel just happened to be a few minutes away from her lunch hour when I waddled up to the teller line. My plan was almost foiled by some other skank teller being available when I was next in line, but I recovered quickly and let Old Lady Bagsby go in front of me and soon enough I was able to present myself at Angel’s window with some BS transaction I could’ve done at the ATM. Angel herself presented the opportunity I was looking for when she asked me how I was doing.

“I’m hungry. How about having lunch with me today?”

Really, I’m not a stalker. I am not making that up.

Of course, Angel said yes, tilting her head and smiling at me with a smile that could have produced power for the Las Vegas Strip for a week. I was so focused on what was going on, I barely noticed her friend Molly begin a modest coughing fit in the adjacent teller window.

Considering I had given her exactly ten minutes’ notice of our first date, it went splendidly, a word I don’t throw around all that often. I mean, one minute she was processing a routine financial transaction I had drummed up on the drive over and the next Molly was helping her with her coat and whispering something in her ear. I would never find out what it was, though whatever it was had Angel nodding solemnly.

We didn’t have unlimited time, so we went to a Chinese place in the shopping complex that housed the branch she worked in. Fortunately, we both like Chinese food.

I wanted to be interesting and funny and all that crap, but really I wanted to one, not try to act her age and, two, treat her like a lady, the older gentleman’s ace-in-the-hole. Boys her age don’t hold doors or pull chairs out or order for their dates or flatter them shamelessly and I certainly hope notebooks were out because class was in session. I gave a clinic in how an older gentleman treats a younger woman.

I will always remember everything about this hour. Angel was, of course, beautiful, but she was hardly the first beautiful woman I’d had lunch with. She was funny and thoughtful and there was no doubt I wanted to see her again.

ANGEL

My Captain is such a dork! This was not, is not, how you ask a girl out!

I knew something was up, though. First, he let Mrs. Bagsby cut in front of him so he could visit my window. Second, his transaction could have been completed in his living room.

Good. I was ready for something to be up. He was a handsome older gentleman, which I found highly erotic, but there was something else: he was very polite and he made me laugh, which put him two up on a lot of the boys who ask me out.

I’d always thought of him as The Captain. Everything about him, from his bearing to his stride to his signature screamed command, a scream I was open to hearing, frankly. The Captain always appeared to know exactly what he was about. I was ready for this, too.

He wasted no time, either. I asked him how he was and he said hungry, he was going to lunch and why didn’t I join him?

My stomach froze. I’d been waiting to hear those words for what seemed like an eternity and thought I was prepared to hear them. I said yes and a few minutes later we were sitting in some restaurant, but I’m sure I stammered and sounded like a little girl as I closed my window and went and got my coat. Molly helped me put it on and whispered something in my ear, something about me being myself or remembering to breathe or some crap like that. I nodded. A thousand butterflies had been released in my stomach.

I remember so little about this date it isn’t even funny! You’d think I would because it was the start of our life together, but I felt like an understudy thrust to center stage without sufficient rehearsals! I was in a daze. The man I wanted to ask me out had asked me out and I had like five minutes to prepare for crossing the great line of demarcation in my life. My makeup! My clothes! Fuck, what if my breath stank? What if I bored him? I mean, my boobies and maybe my smile got me in the door, but he’s a distinguished older gentleman, accustomed to women of substance! What if I didn’t make the grade?

Feels city.

My main concern was not sounding like a girl! I mean, I was a pretty younger woman and let’s not kid ourselves here, that was a big part of why he asked me out because he scoped me out constantly, but I knew there was something else and I wanted to be woman enough to be at the same table as the Captain.  I think I babbled too much, but at the end, he said it had been a lot of fun and he’d like to do it again, though not at the same restaurant which made me laugh.

He was such a dork! He gave me a card and told me to text him so he’d have my number. That’s not the way it’s done, but whatever, I knew a command when I heard one and of course I complied. I made him wait a whole hour though, answering that age-old instinct to play hard-to-get.

Later Molly would point out he let someone cut in front of him and he just happened to show at my teller window right before my lunch break and that the term “stalker” came to mind, but I had returned on schedule and not stuffed in a box, so she supposed he was a good guy.

I laughed. My Captain was merely a man who knew what he wanted: his Angel.

Chapter 2
THE CAPTAIN

Our second date was pretty casual. You need to chat and get to know each other pretty early on because you need to decide if you’re going to invest the time and effort required to build something. And you need to find out if the instincts that led you to ask her out in the first place were any good and you can’t do that at a movie or at the Chancellors Room, which was a – the – five-star restaurant in town.

My instincts, as usual, were trusty. Angel was funny and pleasant and boy, she has always been the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Her black hair was straight – sometimes, maybe usually, it’s curly – and she was wearing blue jeans and a black sweater, a classic combination I’ve always liked.

So I told her about my life. I was born in a small town and still owned a house there, the house I grew up in. My parents are dead and I rent it out, though I charge a pretty high rent to keep the riff-raff out and it is not always occupied.

I spent some time in the Navy and when I got out went to umpire school. Like most athletic kids, I wanted to be a pro ballplayer when I grew up, but I only had average talent, and I started umpiring little league and other youth sports to earn some cash in high school. I wasn’t very good back then, but I showed up every day and appeared confident, even when I wasn’t, that was half the battle. Most of the battle, actually.

I really liked the Navy, I was a yeoman and I had a knack for pushing paper and could’ve passed a nice career there, but I found out about umpire school and was hooked from the start, so I got out of the Navy after four years.

I had to explain to her about umpire school. It’s where you go if you want to be a major league baseball umpire. There are a couple of them, both in Florida and both starting in January. It’s five weeks long and they start from scratch, presuming you’ve never umpired before. It was pretty confusing the first couple of weeks, but I was willing to work and take instruction and that is half of what they are looking for, and I was one of the top graduates.

After that, they send you to an evaluation program with the top students from the other umpire school and then they pick the ones they want to start in the minor leagues. You start at the lowest level and you work your way up and, generally, one or two from each class will make the major leagues.

I came close. Made it to Triple-A, which is the level right below the big leagues. Spent three years in the International League and then I got released. I still remember the phone call. It came a couple of weeks before the holidays and the head of umpire development for baseball called and said I was no longer a prospect for the major leagues and that I would have to find something else to do next summer.

Oh well. Sure, I wanted to make the big leagues, but I went to umpire school to learn the trade and I learned my lessons well and worked hard and become really good, as good as I could get, really, and that was satisfying.

And that’s what I do now. I officiate for a living. I’m pretty good, and I do college and high school sports and I even still do pro ball as a replacement when someone gets sick or injured. I also run the officials’ association in town. That and a modest income from my folk’s estate keep me from having to get a real job.

I’d never bothered to get married, either. I told Angel that I had come close once and really close another time, but each time something inside said no, this is not what you should be doing with your life right now. I had dreams to chase and I figured when my time came to die I’d better be able to tell myself I went and chased those dreams, instead of taking a flier on them. I mean, I’m hardly a philosopher or anything like that, but what else what I put here for if not try some things and see what I got?

Angel laughed when I told her I’d had a couple of engagements and asked if I was looking to get married now. Even though she laughed I could tell she was serious and I told her yes, I was ready for a good marriage. She tried to be nonchalant about it, but her body language said she was relieved.

Honestly? I was relieved, too. It was only our second date and I was twice her age, but I was relieved she appeared to be open to something permanent, too.

She asked when I’d moved to town and I told her in my early 20’s. I was still in pro ball and always went back to the family home in the off-season but I had gotten tired of small-town life and was ready for someplace new. My season had ended somewhere in Texas and I was driving home and I wasn’t taking the most direct route because I didn’t really want to go home. I had stopped here for a couple of days cause it’s pretty here and the hotel I was staying at was hiring. I’m not one to believe in fate too much, but it seemed like a sign to me, so I talked to the manager, a really cute woman who liked me. I told her I was a professional baseball umpire and, like some people, she thought it was as mysterious as if I’d’ve said “spy” and she said we’d worry about me leaving next spring next spring and the next thing I know I was working the front desk there.

The manager really liked me and she let me stay at the hotel for the week or so it took me to find a place to live and I’ve been in town ever since.

After I told her this she asked me when this was and we did some reckoning and while I don’t recall the exact date I moved here, it was within a week or so of the day she was born.

I thought this might scare her. Age differences aren’t for everybody. In theory, they might be. I mean, what guy my age wouldn’t want a woman half his age, especially a really foxy one? Hubba-hubba. I spent more than one night on the road in the sack with an older woman, usually one who was married and bored. But when it comes down to actually building something meaningful, some common interests, like your 20’s are helpful.

Her manners were perfect! She told me she couldn’t decide between some fish dish or the beef stew – she’d been here many times and liked this place a lot – and I forget what I ended up ordering for her. I’m just glad she has a good appetite and wasn’t afraid to order a good meal.

It was a great second date. I’ve had a lot of second dates over the years and am supremely qualified to make this judgment. My instincts about her were right – I knew we’d be a good couple and the second date confirmed it.

ANGEL

I’d been to our second date restaurant a lot over the years. Mom and I would come here whenever there was some extra money and the girls and I would come here to talk about boys. I was really glad to see The Captain liked it, too, because the food is really good and there are a lot of memories here.

And I’ll be honest, he was far from the first date who took me there. Boys liked it because they thought it was fancy, but I got the impression The Captain would be taking me to nicer places. Maybe even The Chancellors Room, the five-star restaurant at the luxury hotel in town, though I’ve learned a girl shouldn’t go hoping for stuff like that.

I was worried about to eat! I mean, I liked him even then and I wanted him to like me. I am such a worry-wart! It was obvious he liked me. He paid attention to me and made me feel important and no boy scoped me out like he did. But we girls don’t like to eat too much on the early dates. I mean, what if he thinks I was a hog?!

I really like their chicken fried steak, though. A lot. So when he asked what I was going to have – because The Captain orders for his Angel – I played it coy. I told him I couldn’t decide between some sort of ten-calorie salad or the chicken fried steak.

The Captain didn’t even blink. He asked if I wanted mashed potatoes or French fries and of course, I said mashed potatoes because that is the only proper side dish with chicken fried steak. He asked if I would present violent objection to starting with some mozzarella sticks and those are really good there, too, and I said I would dismiss the matter out of hand, which made him laugh.

I told him about my life.

I was born in town and had always lived here. I didn’t talk about my dad at all, which may have given him a clue I didn’t have one. He bailed on us when I was three. I now know why, but at the time I didn’t because all Mom ever said was being a dad was harder for him than it was for others. When I was in middle school Mom stopped talking about him with her sisters. I’d hear them on the phone and when they visited, though they didn’t talk about him much. It took me a while to realize they weren’t talking about him at all anymore and maybe my dad was dead. I don’t know.

And it doesn’t really matter! The Captain is not my dad; I wanted to do too many things with him, to him, in bed for that. For example, even though he was old enough to be my dad, I wanted this old man to fuck me and eat me out, but maybe not in that order. And I wanted his old man cock shoved down my throat.

From the very start, I felt protected and loved with the Captain. It was more than being attracted to him, which I was. It was a feeling of security that is hard to describe but the feeling is comforting because us girls need that.

I went away for college but I moved back because I like it here. I majored in English with a minor in Rhetoric. People always asked if I was going to be a teacher or a writer, but I said no, I had no desire to do either of those things, I merely enjoy the English language and wanted to know more about it.

I told him it wasn’t all that easy for an English major who had some zero desire to utilize her major to find the type of work that builds a career, but I was still young, even if 30 is getting closer and closer.

The Captain said he had never married, which I thought odd, because I’d always wanted to marry before I was 30. I asked him if he wanted to get married now. I played it off by laughing so he wouldn’t know how serious I was. Because a girl needs a husband and if he was just looking for a twenty-something piece of ass, well, I’d probably give it to him because I wanted him, but you know. I wasn’t looking for something long-term and casual.

Fortunately, he said yes, he was open to a good marriage, which was good to hear because I was, too.

A good second date. His pass was stamped to continue on with the courting process. He was a grown-up, and I was ready to be one, too.

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