The Old Man in the Club Read Free Page B

“Actually, I did throw myself at him,” she added. “But I wasn’t as developed as I am now. He basically let me down easy.”
    â€œSo, you like older men?” Elliott said. It was so loud that he had to virtually put his mouth to her ear, and she leaned in so close that his lips and her ear came together. It was just what Tamara wanted.
    â€œYou have soft lips,” she said.
    â€œYou have a soft ear,” he quipped, and they both laughed.
    â€œI like men who can teach me something, who can add something to my life,” Tamara answered. She was in Elliott’s ear now, and every few words, she kissed his earlobe. “Boys my age don’t do anything for me; that’s why I went to my high-school prom with a college sophomore.
    â€œAnd now, at twenty-five–wow, I’m a quarter of a century old—guys my age can’t hold my attention. If one does, he’s got about three or four other women, too. But you’re a first for me. You’re old enough to actually be my grandfather. But it doesn’t turn me off. Most sixty-one-year-old men definitely would not hold my attention. But you, I don’t know. There’s something mysterious and interesting about you. You’ve made me very curious.”
    â€œAbout what? How an old man looks naked? What I can do in bed?” Elliott asked as he kissed her on her ear.
    Tamara nodded her head. “Yes. Aren’t you curious about me?”
    â€œNot at all.” Tamara looked confused. “But,” Elliott said into her ear, “I am fascinated by you.”
    Tamara flashed a big smile. “I’m gonna be ready to go soon. What you wanna do when we leave here?”
    â€œMove the party to my house. Private party.”
    â€œJust me and you?”
    Elliott nodded his head. “Me, you and some candles and champagne and gourmet cheese.” He picked up a champagne flute and tapped glasses with Tamara, who then moved to the other side of Elliott and told her girls she was about to leave.
    â€œY’all can stay,” she said. “We’re gonna leave in a few.”
    Elliott could not hear her friends’ responses, but he paid the bill and asked the server to add a third bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
    Tamara told Elliott she was ready. “Okay,” he said, “but let your friends know I have another bottle coming. If they’re going to stay, they might as well have something to sip on.”
    â€œYou’re so sweet.” Tamara shared that information and her friends turned to Elliott and waved as they mouthed “thank you.”
    â€œI have to go to the bathroom,” Tamara said. “Wanna meet me by the front door?”
    â€œMeet you there.” He made his way through the crowd and posted up near the front exit, which also was the entrance. He watched the young people come and go—a fun pastime for him. Sometimes he would go out to places in Atlanta and not say a word to anyone; he’d just watch. And that was a good night for him.
    So he was not mad that Tamara had to make a bathroom run. It was his opportunity to get some sightseeing in without feeling like he might disrespect her in the process. The women came and went in impressive fashion, one young lady’s skirt shorter than the next.
    Tamara was gone for up to ten minutes because of the inevitableline in the women’s bathroom. Right before she returned, Elliott noticed someone out of the corner of his eye approaching from the entrance. When he turned to see, he almost lost his breath.
    Standing before him were Daniel and Danielle. They were twenty-one and Elliott had not seen them in almost two years. But they were not particularly happy to see him, which was evident since there were no smiles and no hugs.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here?” Danielle asked, looking him over.
    â€œHi, Danny,” he said. “Hi, Dan.”
    Neither responded. They looked at him with