Hayes buys four small bags of popcorn, declining my suggestion with a pointed look to let each couple share a large bag. We sneak into the theater just as the lights dim and the movie crackles to life on the projection screen.
Rosie and Don are already engrossed in the experience when we find them. It’s a special showing, so there are no previews to deal with. Settling into the two open seats behind the couple, I’m prepared to kick the back of Don’s seat every time he nods off. Miraculously, he never does, too busy whispering in Rosie’s ear, who smothers her uncontrollable giggling with mouthfuls of popcorn. They are too cute.
Hayes’s knee bounces incessantly for the first half of the movie. When I’ve finally had enough, I reach out and place a hand on his knee, gently rubbing the tense muscles I find there. At my touch, he slowly begins to relax, giving in to the massage.
Hayes leans back in his seat with a soft sigh, subtly checking on our companions.
When the movie ends, our little group piles out of the theater and walks a few blocks to the ice cream parlor. Don and Rosie walk a few steps ahead of us, wrapped up in their own conversation about the plot of the movie.
They’re clearly quite taken with each other, and from my experience working with people their age, that’s not very common. Usually, distrust and prior baggage can form communication barriers between the elderly. That’s not true in Don and Rosie’s case, though. Their excitement and fondness for each other fills my insides with syrupy warmth, threatening to ooze out of my very pores. Finding love is always an amazing thing. Getting a second lease on life at their age is rare and extra special.
Meanwhile, Hayes is a little less stiff than before. As we walk, his hand wanders from my waist to the round swell of my ass, tracing lazy, featherlight lines just underneath the hem of my romper to play with the edge of my panties. It’s enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.
The summer sun is already lowering over the peaks and valleys of the neighborhood rooftops and steeples as we arrive at the ice cream parlor. Don insists on paying, purchasing two scoops of rocky road for himself, one scoop of mint chocolate chip for Rosie, and one scoop of chocolate espresso for me. Hayes opts out, probably in quiet resentment of Don’s kindness.
When the older couple wanders toward the beach to catch the sunset, promising to return within the hour, Hayes whispers in my ear. “Why eat an ice cream cone when I can just watch you?”
We settle into a small booth in the back of the parlor, our legs winding together underneath the table. With my back to the counter and any other patrons, I make a whole show of it.
Hayes watches me with darkened eyes as I lick and suck away at the swirl of soft serve with a vigor I can only attribute to being majorly turned on. I let a little cream drip down my bottom lip, meeting his eyes as I run my tongue lazily over one sticky finger. That’s all he can take. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls my messy mouth to his in a hungry kiss.
Just then, someone’s kid drops his ice cream cone with a wail—the perfect distraction.
I grab Hayes’s hand, pulling him from the table and down the hall to the thankfully empty (and clean) restroom, where I practically shove him inside and close the door behind us. He’s on me almost before I can latch the door, his hands grasping my ass and his lips devouring mine as I fumble for the lock. Once it clicks into place, I push him against the wall, dropping to my knees to nuzzle against the strained fabric of his shorts.
He groans, loudly this time, digging his fingers into my updo and ruining my hard work in the best possible way. In moments, he’s unbuttoned and unzipped, his thick length free from his pants. I kiss a hot, wet path along his sensitive flesh, and Hayes makes a strangled sound.
“Fuck, dove . . . Fuuuck,” he says breathlessly, his low voice crackling like hot coals.
The desperate sound of him, the hot, hard feel of him in my hands, is enough to drive me crazy. But I know I’ll get my reward later, so I focus my efforts on making Hayes lose his mind. And he does . . . quickly.
“I’m gonna come.” His fingers loosen their grasp, giving me an out if I need it.
I don’t back away and swallow him even deeper. When he finally catches his breath, I’m gazing up at him.
“Holy hell,” he says with a chuckle. Helping me to my feet, Hayes wraps me in his arms, warmth radiating from him like a bonfire. He mumbles against my neck, “I messed up your hair.”
“That’s okay.” I smile, nestling against him. I have so much affection for this man, I could burst.
“I needed that.” He sighs, leaning back to meet my gaze. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I say with a smile, pressing a light kiss to his smiling lips.
“Can I return the favor tonight?”
I nod once, my heart rate picking up at the idea of Hayes on his knees before me, treating me to white-hot pleasure. “Of course.”
His smile widens, and his eyes dance mischievously on mine.
Once we’ve collected ourselves and I’ve repaired my hair, we sneak out of the bathroom and back out through the busy ice cream shop. The cashier is too busy mopping up that little kid’s mess to be concerned with us.
We make our way outside, and it’s nearly dark out when the couple of the year returns, only separating their clasped hands to wave once they spot us at the edge of the beach. Hayes and I wave back, and Rosie cocks her head in response to his lazy smile.
“You really have a way with my grandson,”
