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.
