It was just after the Sunday morning service had ended at St Jude’s in Shallowfield when Paul Pini spotted her and thought for a woman of her age she had a particularly nice figure.
The woman in question had just come down the steps from the Church and had stopped briefly to converse with friends and by that time he was sitting at a table outside Addison’s Café just opposite the church entrance.
He was not a Christian himself but he was often sat outside the Church on a Sunday morning when Church emptied of all the Christian ladies, having been for his usual morning constitutional around Teardrop Lake.
Which on the face of it sounds very wrong, but in his defence he sits there enjoying a coffee before continuing his walk home to have his lunch, alone.
But he would have to admit that he did get a kick out of ogling all the Christian women in their Sunday best.
The one particular woman that caught his eye he knew slightly, her name was Emily Pitcher and they were both members of the same Golf club, Forest Ridge in the village of Forestdean.
She was a very wealthy woman by all accounts, which was self-evident by the way she was dressed, though her financial status was of secondary concern to him when he looked at her.
Everything Emily wore was real quality and she was always immaculately turned out.
So he was quite surprised on that day to see her standing chatting on the concourse wearing of all things, leggings, expensive, good quality leggings, but leggings nonetheless.
His surprise quickly abated however as he looked at the exquisite fit of the leggings and he was thinking very unchristian thoughts to himself concerning the great structure and form of her expensively clad quality shaped bum.
And when she shifted her body weight from one leg to the other she turned slightly towards him, just as a beam of sunlight fell upon her, or at least on the part of her he was looking at, as the shaft of light illuminated her hind quarters in the exquisitely fitted leggings.
It was at that point he decided to chance his arm; so after her conversation was over he got up and went over and intercepted her.
“Emily?” he said
“Oh hello” she replied, “Mr. Pini isn’t it?”
“Please call me Paul,” he said
“Paul” she complied
Once he had her attention they chatted about the Forest Ridge Golf Club and the upcoming ladies day.
“You must be in with a chance of a medal” Paul said “A player of your standard”
“Oh dear me” she said all flustered “I don’t know about that”
And having duly flattered her to the point of blushing he invited her to lunch at the Phoenix restaurant across the road, which she graciously accepted.
He was confident that she would, after all a woman of her age would always be at the very least flattered by the attention of a younger man especially one 9 years younger.
Michael had always been attracted to older women, not too much older five or ten years normally, but in her case he was attracted to her on a whole new level.
But of course by the time he reached his 50s there seemed to be an overabundance of suitably aged candidates, widows mainly, which could have kept him gainfully employed, but his attraction to Emily ran deeper than that.
They enjoyed a very pleasant lunch together, which consisted of three courses, two bottles of wine and an abundance of flirting, at the Phoenix which was a very decent eatery where after consuming liberal amounts of wine he walked her home.
“It was a very nice lunch Paul,” she said as he walked her up the driveway outside her very large house. “Thank you”
“My pleasure” he said, because it really had been a pleasure and then she asked
“Would you like to come in for coffee?”
“I would love to” he replied
After that first Sunday afternoon when they enjoyed coffee together on her patio, Emily and Paul became regular companions, on the Golf course, dining out together, theatre, cinema, walking up at Teardrop Lake, and coffee shops.
But it wasn’t until after he first accompanied her to church that they became a couple.
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