Nadine:Geriatric Romance 

Nadine is an older woman; I’d say in her late sixties or very early seventies whereas I am in my mid seventies.

That makes me kind of old, you might say, but... Yeah, mid-seventies is old but it’s all in the way one feels and looks and, other than occasionally forgetting what I’m talking about in mid-sentence and occasionally needing a bathroom every half-hour or so – and one other problem that bothers the hell out of me, that I am not going to talk about right now – still having most of my hair, although it is now more gray specked than brown specked, my face is... for some unknown reason my face is fairly wrinkle free and, other than some hanging flesh beneath my chin and much more of a belly than I’d like, I think I look pretty much as I did in my fifties.

Nadine? Nadine is one of those older women that maintains the shadow of her youthful beauty while her elder beauty, at least to me, shines through the wrinkles on her face and the thickening of her body as one that, easily to see, Nadine was a raving beauty in her earlier years.

I have a minor home service business and, having been in Nadine Foster’s home four times over the past ten years, while waiting for her to write a check, I’ve had occasion to see framed pictures of Nadine in her youth and, though tempted to say, “You were really beautiful then,” – as I look at this as a back-handed complement, meaning ‘you were beautiful once but now that you’re old you’re no longer beautiful’ – I never did complement Nadine on the face of her pictures or past beauty.

Nadine, her face now, though a bit on the haggard side and her soft looking white hair though a bit on the disheveled side, big busted, her body, now thickened and appearing as what one may consider as “matronly”, Nadine, to me... Me, who’s body has also thickened – men, as they grow older, so they say, lose their butts and gain what they’ve lost behind in front giving men, as they grow older, bellies, while women gain in their hips and behind and – between Nadine and myself, this rule of thumb certainly appears to ring true .

On this day, having finished the service hired for, coming into the living room, seated on the sofa, Nadine appeared to be gazing through the patio door. Looking as though day-dreaming, “Nadine,” not wanting to startle her, “Nadine,” I said softly. “I’m finished.”

Her head jerking in my direction, “Oh, sorry,” she said, “guess I was day-dreaming.”

Coming nearer, I handed her my invoice.

“Hold on a sec,” she said, rising a bit wearily, “let me get my check-book... If I can remember where I left it.”

Watching as she went into the kitchen...

Okay, so I’m old but, as I’ve said before, as a mater of fact as I’ve said on many occasions, ‘I’m old, but I’m not dead.’ Because, wearing jeans and a cardigan cashmere sweater,  standing above Nadine I could see the creased flesh of the swell of her ample  breasts and, as she walked from me, although now a bit on the large side, I watched her backside as she walked into the kitchen.

From my, “So I’m old but not dead” file, I sincerely believe that man is programmed to look at, watch and, usually, silently appreciate women. My “So I'm old but not dead” file also tells me that the day I stop watching and appreciating women is the day that I will begin the process of dieing, and as this was not the day that I began the process of dieing... I watched, and appreciated Nadine’s ample backside as she walked into the kitchen.

“How have you been?” Nadine called from wherever she was hunting down her elusive check-book.

“Fine,” I answered back.

Nadine knew my wife had been suffering from acute Diabetes along with a number of related symptoms and that she had passed away five years earlier.  

“Still a bachelor?” she asked, returning to the living-room with check-book in hand.

“Yes,” I answered.

Always on extremely – customer related – friendly terms,  sitting again, patting the space alongside her, “Sit, why don’t you!” 

Sitting two feet to Nadine’s left, “How’s your husband?”

Staring out the patio door once again, a blank expression coming to her face, “He’s... Nate’s been in a nursing home the last two years.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sincerely.

“Yes,” she said, looking at me. “Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Writing a check, tearing it from the check book, handing it to me, “I tried taking care of him here, at home, but after a year it got so bad we... my kids and me,” said sadly, quietly, “we thought it best to place him in extended care.”

Not knowing what to say, placing my hand onto hers, “I’m so sorry.” I repeated.

Nadine’s eyes shifted from my face to our two hands.

Thinking I’d overstepped my bounds, “I’m sorry,” I said once again, this time for touching her as I was. “Maybe I’d better go,” I said as I moved my hand.

“No!” Taking hold of my hand. “You know I’ve always thought of you as a perfect gentleman,” she said, adding, “and I like you.” Hesitating again, “and I’ve had the impression that you like me, too.”

My hand now held within her two hand. “Of course I’ve always liked you! You’ve always been very nice to me.”

“No, I mean I’ve had the impression that you like me more than as 'just a customer'.”

“Nadine, you’re a beautiful lady and I’m a guy and, yeah, because I’m a guy I always did... do like you more than ‘as just a customer’.”  Thinking now for sure I was overstepping my bounds, “Do you want me leave?” I asked.

Ignoring my question, “You think I’m beautiful?” she questioned. “I used to be, but not now!”

“Nadine, you are! Trust me!” I said emphatically, “You are still beautiful!”

Quiet a number of seconds, my hand still held tightly within her two hands...  Turning her body to me, “I love my husband, you know,” she said. “But he’s no longer the man I knew. He’s...” swallowing a sob, waiting until she found her voice.  “Nate’s a stranger to me, and to him,” her eyes becoming glassy, looking away, “He doesn’t know who I am and to him I’m a stranger.”

Feeling a bit uncomfortable with my hand held by hers, “Alzheimer’s a terrible disease,” I said. However, wondering where this may be going, and, of course, the man in me – not wanting to take advantage of this woman’s sorrow – but the man in me wanted this to go to the rear of the house, to the bedroom, but wanting no mistake in this, again I asked, “Would you like me to leave, Nadine?”

Speaking haltingly, weighing her words, “I miss Nate... the old Nate. Living alone like this... Oh, my kids and friends try to keep me occupied and take me out and have me to dinners, and I try to keep myself occupied, but...”

Her eyes on me again, my eyes meeting her eyes, “I miss a man,” she said emotively, “I miss being held by a man and the feeling of  a man’s body next to me, and....” Her eyes shifting away, looking onto her lap, onto our three hands, then up again, into my eyes, “Maybe I’m being forward, but... If you don’t mind...

Knowing what she was about to say, moving my face to her face, my lips to her lips, barely touching, we kissed.

“Would you hold me?” Nadine asked, her words no more than a whisper. “Would you lay next to me.”

Truly feeling a fondness for this beautiful lady... Quite possibly feeling more than merely a “fondness” for this beautiful lady. Well knowing where this was going. At my age needing pharmaceutical assistance to “get things going”. On this day however, realizing that on this day, really, on this day I wanted nothing more than to hold Nadine.

Standing, my hand now holding her hand, bringing Nadine to her feet, my arms about her, “I’d love to hold you!” Hugging her, “I’d like nothing better than to lay next to you!”

My hand in her hand, silently, Nadine led me to the rear of her home.

 My hand held loosely within Nadine’s dry hand, walking wordlessly, I was led to her bedroom.

Bewildered by this turn of events an understatement.

Following Nadine my mind was shifting from, do we get undressed? Do I treat Nadine like...? Frankly I couldn’t remember the last time I was being led by the hand to a lady’s bedroom. However, I remembered that there were always a number of, to say the least, awkward moments until “things” began to work the way “things” were supposed to, more or less, work.

                                                *** 

The “undressing thing,” if there was to be an “undressing thing” was, in my mind, a big deal. Also, Do I treat Nadine like we’re going to... what? Make love? Have raw sex? Do I kiss her like we’re going to make love... have raw sex; with an older woman... A much older woman? Well, not older than me, but a near seventy year old woman was older than any woman that had ever led me to her bedroom and, really, older than any woman I’d ever made love to. Actually, throughout my life there have been very few women that have led me to their bedrooms. Do I even kiss Nadine? I mean do I even really kiss Nadine.

Maybe it was my age, and maybe I forgot all the “things” younger men are programmed to do with women that are leading them to their bedroom, but suddenly I was at a complete loss as to what, as a man...

Oh, yes, I did know the basics,  but I was at a complete loss as to how to go about what I was supposed to do with this lady that up until about ten minutes ago was my customer... A lovely customer that I had fantasized over, but still, only a customer nonetheless.

                                        *** 

Easy to see this room was the room of an older person: flower patterned wallpaper adorning the four walls, deep yellow, swaged drapes framed a double hung window covered with lighter colored yellow sheers. The bed, a dark mahogany four poster was covered with a floral bedspread. There was a like mahogany four drawer dresser and a matching lo-boy, all in all, giving the room the appearance of a “fifties” motif.

Dropping our hands, standing stiffly a number of seconds, neither of us knowing exactly how to proceed, looking for a way to lighten the situation, looking for a way to move “things” along, motioning to the room, “Where you from originally?” I asked.

Smiling, “The furniture?” Nadine asked.

Nadine’s smile – allaying some of my self perceived clumsiness – reminded me of this ladies beauty,  “Yeah,” I said, “it’s not exactly ‘California’.”

“Nate and me, we’re from the mid-west.”

“Yeah? Me, too.”

“Really, where?”

Both of us talking, feeling a bit more at ease, “Chicago,” I said. “You?”

“Dayton, Ohio.” Motioning to the room, “Actually this furniture belonged to Nate’s parents and they gave it to us after we were married.”

Quiet a few seconds, a far away look coming to Nadine’s eyes, “We talked about getting rid of this old stuff a few years back, but... You, know, when you get older, you kind of get set in your ways.”

“Yeah,” I said, “tell me about it.”

Still feeling awkward, “Nadine,” I said, “You’re the boss here. I’ll do whatever you want, however you want. If you want to just talk, that’s okay.”

Quickly said, “No.” Going to the bed, pulling the bedspread back, “I really need us to lay together.”

Okay!  I thought. Pleased, “Okay,” I said.

Sitting on an upholstered chair to remove my shoes, glancing at the small table alongside the chair, I noticed a gold gilded frame containing a faded, sepia tinged picture of a, possibly, five year old pigtailed, blonde haired girl in a drum majorette’s uniform holding a small baton. “This you?” I asked.

“Yes.” Coming to me, her hand warm on my shoulder, looking over my shoulder, “I was five there.” Nadine answered.

Lifting the frame, looking closer, in fine script on the bottom right hand corner: “Nadine, 1937”  Thinking, I was born in ’34 and if she was five in ’37 that makes her... Subtracting five from 1937 means she was born in 1932, two years before me. Holy shit! I thought, Nadine’s seventy-seven!  Two years older’n’me.

 At the window now, “In my whole life,” she said, “no one... uh, other than Nate and doctors have ever seen me undressed. So, if you don’t mind...”

Solving my number one question, I watched as Nadine pulled on a hidden draw string as two black-out blinds, meeting in the center shut out all but a sliver of outside light.

“Nadine,” standing, going closely to her, “are you saying you’re going to take your clothes off?”

Her eyes downcast, “If you don’t mind,” looking up, softly said, “yes.”

“If ‘I don’t mind’?” I said forcibly, “Nadine, you’re a beautiful lady and I like you... I like you a whole lot! And this happening now, like this, is like a dream to me....” Assuming she would want me nude, too, but still cautious, still fearful of doing anything other than what Nadine wanted. Still fearful of going further than Nadine wanted, though, under the circumstances, just to be on the safe side, “you want me undressed, too?”

Staring at me, blinking her eyes a number of times, Nadine put her hands to either side of my face. “Don’t be silly, dear.” Standing on tip-toes, her lips brushed mine. “Yes, of course get undressed.”

‘dear’,  I thought, she called me,  ‘dear’.

Turning from me, walking to the right side of the bed, switching the lamp on the nightstand off, Nadine motioned to the other side of the bed, to the other lamp.

Knowing her meaning, going to the left, I turned the one remaining light off.

Silent now but for the rustling of discarded clothing; both hers and mine.

Fully nude now, entering that awkward stage once again, I lay flat on my back on the semi-soft mattress in this – other than a sliver of silver coming from between the drawn black-out blinds – perfectly black room.

There was a slight rustling of the mattress as Nadine lay back.

The room quiet now... Moving my hand to Nadine, touching her outer thigh, her hand immediately finding mine, we lay without movement...

Moving closer, moving the foot that separated us, my hand, still held within hers, moved

onto Nadine’s stomach now...

Holding my hand palm down, I felt the soft...

Let me say now that I love softness!

As Nadine moved my hand onto her stomach, I felt the softness of her stomach and the softness of the smooth, warm flesh of her stomach and, suddenly turning onto her side, Nadine was within my arms and I sensed the soft flesh of her breasts held tightly against my chest and my hand, now draped over her hip, held the very soft flesh of her left buttock and I loved...

I Loved the soft feel of this beautiful, seventy-seven year old woman’s breasts against my chest and the soft feel of her stomach pressed tightly against my stomach and the soft feel of the flesh of Nadine’s buttock held within my hand...

Held tightly within my arms – my other concern – without the help of Pfizer, “I” was there! Moving even closer, my hand now on the warm, soft flesh of Nadine’s inner thigh, parting her thighs... touching her.

“Oh, Nate! Yes, dear!” Harshly said, “Love me, Nate!” Wiggling out of my arms, turning onto her back, “Love me, my dear!” Holding my penis, “Nate,” Nadine said passionately. “Nate!” attempting  insertion, “Nate, oh Nate, I missed you so!”

Blood reversing, becoming limp... Held within her arms, propping myself by my elbows, allowing myself to lay close onto Nadine...

“Nate?” Her harsh breathing becoming normal. “What happened, dear?”

Moving off, again laying side by side, “Nadine,” I said as gently as possible, “I’m not Nate.”

Quiet...

“You’re not Nate?”

“No, honey. I’m sorry.”

Quiet now, laying closely side by side, turning onto her side, her arm across my chest, her head on my shoulder, Nadine cried.

In the black, silver slivered room, “Shhh,” I whispered, “Shhh.”

 ©January 29, 2013  / Mark M. Lichterman