Arlene and I became “friends” on an adult website.   We chatted regularly.   She was in the “mature” age bracket like me. During one of our chats, I sent her a face pic. (She already had some body shots in my profile).  Arlene was the first person on any adult site that I had sent a face picture to. I was pleasantly surprised when she sent a face picture back without me even asking.  

We chatted about everyday things and our mutual love of travel. In one chat, I unburdened on her a host of setbacks I had experienced that week.  After a brief, innocuous exchange, I told her a make-out session would make me feel better.   She lived hours away, so it was a symbolic request, but she responded favorably.

In previous chats, I had shared that I owned a timeshare and had put in a request to swap my timeshare for a week at a hotel in New York City. I have never been to NYC, but she had.  There are few timeshares in NYC, so my chances were not good that there would be a vacancy, but I held out hope. 

Months after placing my request, I got a week.  I sent Arlene the details and invited her to join me.  She, like myself, is retired, so there would be no issue of having to ask for time off.  Also, like me, Alene was not a millionaire, but airfare to New York would not break the budget either.  However, we had never met in person. Would she accept my request? 

The answer came back that she would. (Of course, she said yes. If she had said “no,” that would be the end of the story). She agreed to meet me in New York.

My flight arrived the night before her scheduled arrival. I took a cab to the timeshare. The hotel/timeshare had a great location. However, owners get the best room, so my -- our room -- was just on the fourth floor.   While the view was modest, the room had quality furniture and a small frig, and, of course, coffee. 

Because of jet lag, after getting settled, I went to bed.   I woke early, showered, dressed, and went to a local grocery, got milk, wine, bagels, cream cheese, and a few other things. Returning to the room, I put away the purchases and looked at my phone.   Arlene said she would text when she arrived.    She had taken the red eye.   It was already a half-hour after her flight was expected to arrive.   Fifteen minutes later, I checked the airline’s website to see that her flight had arrived on time. I just figured she got cold feet.

As I was pacing around my room to decide what to do, I got a text. “I’m five minutes away.”  I had assumed when I had said, “Text me when you arrive,” that meant when her plane arrived.   In the miscommunication that can happen even in the best of relationships, she assumed I meant when she arrived at the hotel.

I took a quick look in the mirror, combed my hair, and made a dash for the elevator.  However, the elevator showed it was on the 15th floor, so I hustled down the stairs.   I walked briskly through the lobby and out the front door. There was Arlene just as her cab pulled away. I wanted to hug her right then, but she seemed perturbed, so I just took her bag.

After asking about her flight, I learned that her flight had experienced turbulence and had gotten very little sleep.   It didn’t take a genius to read her mood. I suggested she take a nap and get a shower.  Meanwhile, I would scout out the local area, and she could text me when she felt human again. 

I thought about giving her a quick kiss goodbye, but no, I wanted our first kiss to be special.   I left her a room key and departed.   Having never been to New York, every block was exciting.   After a few hours, a text came in. It simply read, “Let’s get lunch.”

I walked back quickly and was delighted to see that Arlene was in the lobby waiting.   I offered my arm, and we headed out to a quaint Greek restaurant I had seen on my walk. As previously agreed, she would pay for meals and tickets for a Broadway play, and I would pay for everything else (tickets to the Statute of Liberty, the Empire State Building, etc.).

We took a cab to an art museum. I don’t know a Monet from a Renoir, but my uneducated eye still appreciates art.   We got to a gallery room with several nude pictures.   One, “Apollo with Daphne,” was particularly explicit. As we paused in front, Arlene stroked my arm.   That was all she needed to do to signal we were not just sightseeing on this trip.   

Not very hungry, we picked some snacks from a deli and returned to our room.

I said I needed to get a shower and did so. After drying off, I put on a sexy men’s underwear I had secreted in the bathroom.  

Exiting the bathroom, I found the lights were turned down low. There was Arlene in a simple white baby doll. Yes, there were some signs of age, but I looked past that and saw a beautiful woman.  A woman with womanly breasts and a warm smile.  A woman full of life, an elegant and sexy woman.

She looked past the signs of age in me and the few extra pounds around my middle and said, “Oh, you are a handsome man.” 

As I began to take her in my arms, I said, “You are so sexy.”  We kissed our first kiss for the longest time. Breaking the embrace, she whispered in my ear, “It’s time for bed.”    

End of Part 1