Frank knocked on my office door at a quarter to twelve that fateful Monday, pushed it open and poked his head through the opening. “Lunch?” he asked.

His tone, trumpeted, that shit was about to hit the fan. Frank and I grew up in the same the neighborhood and were hired months apart at the same accounting firm. Our roles at the firm differed. He was a CMA, and I was a Forensic Account.

“Sure,” I replied.

“Now,” he mouthed.

When we hit the street I asked him, “Marie and your girls are okay, Frank? Things are good at home?”

“Marie and the girls are fine. When they stop spending money faster than I earn it, I’ll start to worry,” he forced a chuckle as he replied.

We headed to a small gentleman’s club called Gimlets. It catered exclusively to executive types in the financial district of downtown Toronto. Gimlets was clean, well-lit, and boasted one of the finest menus and liquor selections in the city. Most of the dancers employed there were students working their way through one of the many Universities located a short streetcar ride away.

We took a seat at the bar and Frank ordered two Seagram's. He downed his drink, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and ordered two more. “Our asshole of a boss is going to fire you. Deb, in Human Resources, gave me the heads up. I’m sorry, buddy. He thinks you missed something in your last case.”

The news of losing my job caught me off guard and hit me hard. The ink on my divorce papers was barely dry. In that instant, I realized all I had been living for was my career. The more distant my ex-wife and I had become, the deeper I had buried myself in my work. I had lost the sense of who I was. I had become a stranger living in my own skin – a sad, worn out cliché approaching middle-age.

Frank nudged me with his shoulder and asked, “You okay, Vincent?”

I smiled at Frank and replied, “You're a good friend, Frank. Let him think what he wants. The money was clean. He had a hardon for the press the firm would have received if we took down a Member of Parliament. “

“Anything you need, just ask. Promise me you'll ask, Vincent.” Frank sounds like De Niro in a mobster movie whenever he gets anxious or nervous.

I chuckled and nodded my head. “I promise. Just don’t go crazy and whack anybody. Okay, Don Corleone?”

I recognized the opening piano riff to the song that started to play through the speakers around the stage. It was unmistakably, Supertramp's, Take The Long Way Home. I turned to the stage and was dumbstruck by the long legged, young lady with the long, strawberry blonde hair down to her waist, in a gold micro-bikini and gold peep-toe stilettos.

Frank noticed my reaction. “Want a private dance with her?” he asked à la De Niro.

I laughed and replied, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Marie is making Veal Parmigiana on Sunday. Our girls always ask about their Uncle Vincent. You haven’t been by in months, come by for dinner. And you better ring my doorbell with your elbows. You better not show up empty handed, you cheap bastard.”

We laughed for a bit and then Frank whispered, “You really okay?”

“No. But I will be,” I replied.

“What are you going to do?”

I smiled at the strawberry blonde and replied to Frank, “I’m going to take the long way home.”

She strutted to the edge of the stage, turned around and looked at me over her shoulder as she undid the clasps of her top. She turned to face me and let the straps of the top fall from her slender shoulders. Slowly, she extended her arms and lowered them, allowing her top to slide down her arms and expose her small, perky breasts and pink, erect nipples. She winked at me and flicked her top on to my lap.

The song ended, she walked off the stage and made her way to me. “May I have my top back, please?” she politely asked.

“Of course,” I replied and handed her the top.

She slipped her slender arms through its straps and turned around. “Could you please clasp it? My hair gets in the way.”

I heard her chuckle as I fumbled with the minuscule hooks and clasps.

“Don't laugh,” I warned her. “I can’t remember ever being successful at unhooking one of these. You might be here a while.”

She laughed, “You're very funny.”

I winked at her, “Sadly, it's the truth.”

She turned around, reached behind her back and introduced herself as she clasped her top. “I'm Meghan.”

“I'm Vincent.”

Meghan’s smile broadened when she noticed that my bare ring finger didn’t have a wedding band tan. She studied me for a few seconds and hesitated a few more seconds before she asked, “Will you be here after two? I'm booked for a private party in the VIP room until then.”

I shook my head. “I have to get back at the office.”

She slumped forward and pouted. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“If I can make it, yes,” I promised the young lady.

Frank poked me in the ribs with his elbow as Meghan turned to walk away and snickered, “You dog.”

I gave Frank the heads up that I was going back to the office and resign. No way was I going to give the douchebag boss the satisfaction of firing me. It was time to test the waters of being an independent consultant.

~

The next day, an uneasy feeling came over me as I pushed open the heavy, wooden door and entered Gimlets. Meghan was dressed in faded jeans and a tight fitting purple hoodie, sitting at the bar with another dancer. When she spotted me, her face lit up. She waved me over.

My chest suddenly got tight and I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if I had been kicked in the gut. Without thinking, I pulled my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and held up my hand with my index finger extended. Meghan nodded in reply to my ‘one minute please, I have to take this call’ gesture. I headed outside to try and catch my breath and had to lean against the building to steady myself from the spinning in my head. The cold reality of approaching middle age, being recently divorced, unemployed, and chasing after a twenty-something girl made me feel nauseous.

What the fuck had happened to me?

“Are you okay?” The question sounded like it had travelled through a mile long metal tube and reverberated in my head.

I opened my eyes and Meghan's big, green eyes came slowly in to focus. I couldn’t speak. She placed her hands on my face and had a look on her face like a doctor has when they’re examining you. She loosened my tie and undid the top two buttons of my shirt.

“Sorry,” I barely managed to squeeze the word out of my throat.

She ignored the apology and asked, “Are you diabetic? Do you have a heart condition?”

“Neither,” I replied with a pinching gasp.

“Ever had an anxiety attack before, Vincent?”

I shook my head and felt the blood rush to my face from embarrassment.

“The good news is that you’ll live,” she chuckled. “I recommend that you make an appointment with your doctor and get a complete physical. I’ll flag down a cab for you. You should go home and rest.”

“Thank you, Meghan.” When her name left my lips it felt strangely familiar, as if I had said it a million times in a million different ways. “My condo is on Richmond Street, ten minutes from here. I’ll walk home.”

Meghan twisted her lips and announced, “I’ll accompany you. Let me grab my purse and say good bye to Chiara. I’ll take the streetcar to my dorm once I know you’re home.”

“You’re not working today?” I asked.

She smiled and looked down at her feet as she replied, “No. I should be studying, but I knew you were planning on asking me out to lunch.”

I chuckled, “How did you know I would ask you to lunch? How did you know I would even come by today?”

She grinned and rolled her eyes as she replied, “Pa-leese! Look at me! Superman doesn't have the strength to resist asking me to lunch?”

I laughed at her reply and asked, “Would you join me for lunch, Meghan?”

She pursed her lips into a pout, brought her hand to her chin and tapped a finger against her lips. “Let me think. Do I accept your offer or wait for Superman to call?”

I was charmed by her little mise en scène and couldn't pry my eyes away from her fair face.

“Well?” I asked.

“If you feel up to it, absolutely. But if Superman calls me, you’re leftovers. Deal?” she snickered.

Meghan ran into Gimlets to grab her purse and say good bye to her friend.

We walked around the corner to a small Italian restaurant and told each other where we were in life. She was enrolled in a pediatrics course at U of T, and was starting her internship in five weeks at a hospital in Waterloo. Where she grew up and still lived with her parents. I told her about quitting my job and my divorce.

She sighed and said, “Of all the available men that come to watch me dance, it’s just my luck to be attracted to the only unemployed one.”

I chuckled, “Superman doesn’t have a job.”

Meghan placed her elbows on the table and whispered, “I just told you that I’m attracted to you and you respond with an update on a fictional character’s employment status?” A smile slowly appeared on her face. “This is the part where you’re supposed to invite me back to your place,” she grinned.

She caught me off guard. My mind went blank. Dumbstruck, I nodded.

When we were inside my condo, Meghan took my hand and I led her to my bedroom. She removed my jacket, tie and shirt and pushed me onto the bed. She pulled her hoodie over her head and tossed it on the floor. Her pink nipples were hard and erect. Meghan kissed her way up my thigh as she stroked my semi hard cock through my pants. When she placed a kiss on my shaft I felt the pressure build quickly at its base.

“Stop, please,” I groaned as placed my hands on her slender shoulders and gently pushed her away.

Meghan gave me a quizzical look as she sat up on her knees. “You don't like it?”

“No, it's not that. It's been a long time, that’s all,” I explained to her but I couldn’t bring myself to mention that I was about to cum in my pants, without being fully erect.

“If you don't mind me asking, how long has it been?”

“Over two years,” I confessed to her.

The look in her big, green eyes told me that she knew I hadn’t disclosed the real reason as to why I had asked her to stop.

“It's like riding a bike,” she smiled.

“It'd be a ridiculously short ride on half inflated tires,” I replied.

“Isn't that the point? To get to the end of the ride. What? You think I have all day and night to wait for you to cum?” She grinned as she lay down beside me and grazed her fingertips over my balls and cock. “Besides, I need you to use your mouth on me, too.”

She covered my mouth with hers and undid my zipper. “Just relax, baby,” she whispered as she pulled my cock out and pumped it in her tight grip.

I closed my eyes and sucked her tongue into my mouth. It only took a few stokes until my cock erupted and spewed hot cum on to her shoulder and across my chest.

I rolled her onto her back and positioned myself between her spread legs. She lifted her head off the pillow and lapped at the cum on my chest. “Take off my jeans, Vincent,” she panted.

I slid down her body, covered her pussy with my mouth and exhaled. The heat of my breath made her squirm and gasp. I unbuttoned her jeans as I bit gently into her pussy lips through her skin tight pants. Meghan lifted her hips off the mattress and I yanked her jeans off. She grabbed my hair with both hands and guided my mouth to her hairless, slick slit. She gasped and moaned as she held my face buried between her legs and bucked her hips in a quick, quivering, grinding rhythm against my mouth, tongue and teeth. I slid my hands under her hips and kneaded her soft and firm ass cheeks, pulling her throbbing pussy into my mouth.

I hungrily sucked on the sticky nectar that oozed out of her. Meghan quivered each time I sucked her swollen pussy between my lips. When I grazed my teeth across her clit, her hips shot up off the mattress and she screamed as she came.

My mind spun and my body shook as I kissed my way up her slender body. I sucked and kissed her breasts and nipples before I rolled off her. Meghan turned on to her side and lazily draped one arm and leg across my body.

She placed soft kisses on my chest and moaned, “Just like riding a bike.”

I whispered, “Thank you.”

Meghan stirred and replied, “I have to go soon. I really do have to study. Promise to kick me out in five minutes?”

“Promise,” I chuckled.

She lifted her head off my chest and asked, “Do you feel at least a little bit better? You’ve been through a lot of ugliness recently.”

I told her I felt much better and explained how I had lost any sense of who I was. That I didn’t know how I felt about chasing a twenty something girl, and that I didn’t the idea of being a cliché.

Meghan rolled off me and grabbed her phone. “Get the facts straight, this twenty something girl chased you. You can thank me later. Now, tell me what your plan is. I’ll type it and text it to you.” Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I’ll start you off. Top on the list, of course - Fuck Meghan a lot.”

I laughed and replied, “I like my list already.”

“Me too,” she smiled.

“I don’t know where start.”

“It’s easy, Vincent. Start with something you really wanted to do, but, you never got around to doing it.”

“Drive across the country again. I did it once when I was younger,” I replied.

She smiled. “Easy, isn’t it?”

I nodded and added to the list something that Meghan wasn't impressed with. “Drive at 200 mph. in a new car.”

“Oooh, not good. Not a good thing. That's dangerous and illegal, and could possibly impact the number one item on your list. Right? Like, for example, you won't be able to fuck me if you're dead. Definitely not going on the list,” she playfully scolded me.

She straddled me and rocked her hips slowly from side to side as she traced the shape of my mouth with her fingertips. “I think you're handsome and sexy, Vincent, and a very sweet man. I want you to know that. I really have to leave now. If you want, I can drop by again on Saturday morning.”

I smiled at her, “Yes, I definitely want.”

Saturday morning, Meghan showed up with a mischievous grin on her face. She was wearing a white lab coat and had a stethoscope around her neck.

She giggled as she pulled the lab coat open, “Get naked. I’m a doctor.” She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

I closed the door behind her and removed my t-shirt and jeans. Meghan got down on her knees, placed the eartips of the stethoscope in her ears and placed its diaphragm on my stiffening cock.

“Ohhh, not good, not good at all, Vincent.”

I couldn’t help but laugh and get more aroused. “That bad?”

“Worse, way worse than I imagined I’m afraid,” she shook her head as she replied.

“Give it to me straight, Doc. I can take it.” I played along with her sexy game.

“You’re going to have to get much harder if you want to fuck me,” she replied and licked her lips.

I placed my hands on her head and guided her mouth to my cock. Meghan kissed and licked my twitching cock to full erection. She stood up, wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist as she kissed me with a needful urgency. “Fuck me hard, Vincent,” she pleaded with a whimper.

I slammed her against the door and shoved my cock inside her. Meghan tightened the grip of her legs and arms around me as I pounded my cock in and out of her hot, slick slit. I felt her pussy clench around my cock and her nails dig into my shoulders. Her body quivered and then suddenly stiffened as she exploded around my cock. I forced my full length inside her clenched pussy and kept her pinned to the door as I filled her with my cum.

Meghan loosened her grip and caught her breath. “Boy did I misdiagnose the symptoms,” she moaned.

“Is it serious, Doc?” I panted.

Meghan kissed me and playfully replied, “It’s very serious. I might have to cancel all my appointments and spend the weekend observing your condition.”

“Might?” I asked and squeezed her pussy.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, “Keep that up and I might never leave.”

~

Meghan would visit me whenever her schedule permitted. Most of the visits ended up being a quickie, or a blow job, or me eating her out, and on the rare occasion, to spend the night. The four weeks that had passed were without a doubt among the most happiest and memorable of my life. It was effortless to spend time with Meghan. And when we fucked, the feeling of being inside her was indescribable for the both of us.

I called Meghan one afternoon and asked if she had time to meet for a quick coffee. I missed her and wanted to see her. We met at a Starbucks close to her campus. An older woman shot glaring and contemptuous looks at me and Meghan. The expression on her face made me feel like a dirty old man. That's when our age difference became an impediment for me. Meghan had noticed her glaring, too. She noticed the sudden change in my mood and asked what was wrong. I asked if she would mind if we went for a short walk. She stopped in front of a shop's window and asked me, “When you look at our reflection, what do you see, Vincent?”

I smiled, “Us.”

She squeezed my arm and replied, “I see a very lucky and happy girl who gets to spend time and have great sex with a very handsome, sexy, kind and caring man. Don't let anything ever make you doubt that. Okay?”

I nodded and kissed her.

~

It was early on a Sunday morning when I mentioned to her that I was leaving that evening to drive across the country. We were on the balcony; she was sitting on my lap wearing one of my t-shirts, having a cup of coffee and enjoying the view of the sailboats lazily gliding over Lake Ontario.

Meghan looked at me and asked, “You remember that I’m driving back home on Thursday?”

I nodded.

“This is good-bye?” she asked. “You wait until the last minute to tell me that you’re leaving?

“I might be back before you leave. I’m flying to Vancouver to pick up a car I bought. I’m driving it back. Figured three or four days on the road would do me good,” I informed her and immediately regretted the plans I had made.

Meghan stood up, looked down at me and calmly asked, “Tell me, Vincent. What do you see when you look at me, a stripper, or a med student? Because I can assure you that I am not a stripper. I swore to myself that I would never go out with, let alone fuck, a customer. And up until I saw you I was never even tempted. But there was something about you that I couldn’t stay away from. It took hold of me the first time you smiled at me.”

“I never even entertained the thought of you as a stripper, Meghan. You’re leaving in a few days, for Waterloo, to start your life.”

She stared coldly at me. “You insensitive fuck. I’ll be a one and a half hour drive away from you. You make it sound like it’s in another galaxy. I thought we had something, Vincent, something special. Guess I was wrong, huh? Guess you couldn’t wait four more days to get rid of me. Tell me that I was more than a piece of ass for you. Lie to me if you have to. Because I’d feel like the world biggest fool if that’s all I've meant to you.”

“It’s not like that …”

She cut me off before I could finish my sentence. “No Vincent! It’s exactly like that. You never once gave me a straight answer whenever I breached the subject of what happens when I move back home. I’ll spare you the unbearable burden of having me around. I never want to see or hear from you again. Good bye, Vincent,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“You’re better off with someone your own age.” I said the words I swore I would never say to her, foolishly believing that they would somehow make everything right.

Meghan fought back a sob and replied, “You promised me that our age difference would never get in the way of where our relationship was headed. No matter where it ended up. Was that just another lie? How many lies have you told me?”

I remained silent. Anything else I would have said would have only hurt her more.

Meghan sobbed, “Fuck you, Vincent. You don't get to tell me who I am allowed to love.”

~

The last words Meghan had said to me rang in my ears the entire flight to Vancouver. A deep, dull ache had settled in my gut the moment she walked out my door. The excitement I had felt when I purchased a Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat, was gone. The car was childhood dream come true. I had wanted a Challenger ever since I saw it in the movie, Vanishing Point. The car and the drive I had been looking forward to, seemed inconsequential now. It could have been time better spent. Time I could have spent with Meghan.

I picked up my new car and drove to a motel to get some sleep. I had over four-thousand kilometers of driving on the Trans-Canada highway ahead of me.

~

Driving through the Rocky Mountains wasn’t as awe inspiring as I remembered it. The blue glacier ice that I had imagined giants had painted on the side of the mountains, and the trees growing out of the crags that appeared to defy all logic, seemed commonplace.

Heraclitus was right – ‘No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.’

I was on the road before dawn on the second day of my journey home. My heart quickened as I caught sight of the first rays of the rising sun on the horizon and watched it slowly paint the new day's sky the color of Meghan’s hair.

Meghan’s face flashed in my mind - my breath was taken away.

~

Thursday morning I was almost home. Eastbound on Highway 401, ten kilometers away from Highway 25, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Across the median, on the shoulder of the west bound lanes, I spotted her long, strawberry blonde hair and long, slender legs. I eased up on the accelerator as I neared the girl walking away from a car with billows of steam hissing out from under its hood, with a valise in hand.

I pulled a U Turn across the median and gunned my car on to the west bound lanes. Meghan heard the low, throaty rumble of an approaching vehicle’s high performance exhaust in the distance. She shielded her eyes from the sun and focused her stare on the shimmering heat rising from the road. Headlights danced in the distance and were approaching her, noisily, at a very high speed.

I slowed my car down and rolled down the passenger door’s window as I neared her. She looked in the car and her face turned a whiter shade of pale.

I smiled at her and said, “I’m running on fumes. I can drive you to the Tim Hortons off of Twenty-five. At least you’ll be out of the heat.”

Meghan opened the door, put her valise in the back seat and slipped into the passenger seat. I steered the car back on to the highway and crossed the median to head east.

“Nice car,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Meghan.”

“For what?” she asked as she turned her head away from me and stared out the window.

“For being an insensitive fuck.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Just drop me off at the Timmies. I’ll call my dad to pick me up. I appreciate the ride but I really don’t want to talk to you. You hurt me, Vincent. You broke my heart.”

I stomped on the accelerator. The motor roared and Meghan screamed as she was sucked into the car seat at almost one time the force of gravity. I laughed and eased off the gas. “Do I have your attention, Meghan?”

She slapped my arm and shouted, “What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you, twelve years old? You scared the crap out of me!”

“Can you forgive me?” I asked.

She turned in her seat to face me, crossed her arms and asked, “Why should I?”

“I could give you a million and one reasons, Meghan.”

She squinted and almost hissed her words at me, “Just one. Forget the other million reasons you claim to have. Give me one valid reason and I might think about forgiving you. It better be a damn good reason, Vincent.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and asked her, “Do you remember the song you were dancing to the day we met?”

“Yes. Take The Long Way Home. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Everything, actually. When I saw you for the first time you took my breath away, Meghan. That is something that has only happened a handful of times in my life. The first time was when I drove through the Rocky Mountains. When I saw you and heard that song, in that moment, I decided to by this car and take the long way home.”

“I still fail to see what that has to do with anything, Vincent. And you’re damn right I took your breath away,” Meghan replied trying to fight back a smile.

I looked at her and continued, “I didn’t know how, or why, but I was certain I would find the answers to what I was looking for if I took the long way home. And I did. But not exactly as I had imagined it.”

“Go on,” she almost smiled.

“I was expecting my breath to be taken away when I saw the mountains again. I was hoping to be inspired again, to find myself again.”

“Did you?” Meghan asked.

“No, sadly, I didn’t. Driving through the Rocky Mountains wasn’t as awe inspiring as I remembered it.” I paused for a second and asked her, “Do you know what did take my breath away, what did inspire me and gave me a sense of who I am?”

“You mean who, not what,” Meghan smiled.

“You did. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I realized I was trying to reproduce something from my past. Trying to live my present in the past, if that makes sense. This car is a childhood dream. And it meant nothing to me until you got in it and sat beside me. That’s my reason. I hope it’s good enough for you to forgive me.”

“I’ll think about forgiving you, jerk. I shouldn’t, but I will,” she smiled. “On one condition.”

I laughed and replied, “You’re brutal. Name your terms.”

“Do that thing with your car again. It did scare me but, it kinda got me incredibly hot at the same time,” she grinned.

I cranked the stereo. Golden Earring’s Radar Love blasted out of the speakers. Meghan kissed my cheek and then grabbed hold of the door’s armrest with one hand and squeezed my right hand with her other; she shut her eyes, clenched her jaw and pushed her feet hard against the floorboard to brace herself for the rush of almost one g of instantaneous acceleration.

I stomped on the accelerator pedal. Meghan squealed in nervous anticipation of the rollercoaster like, adrenaline rush to shoot through her belly again.

The engine cut out. We had run out of fuel. I steered the car to the side of the road and turned off the music.

I shook my head and said, “That couldn’t have been anymore anticlimactic.”

Meghan threw her arms up in the air and let them drop lifelessly to her lap, “You have no idea how close I was to a climax. You sooo owe me an orgasm, Vincent!”