top

I was shopping at the time, in my usual desultory, dejected fashion, in my local supermarket and I’d already got fruit and chocolate, cat food and a ready meal in my trolley when I rounded the end of the aisle and banged straight into the girl leaning into one of the cabinet freezers. It was only a glancing blow and did no damage to her or to anything else either but it did dent, somewhat, my self esteem. I hadn’t seen the girl but then neither had she seen me, I thought I was going blind and forgetful and she thought, well she thought at first I’d done it on purpose, until she saw my consternation and realised I hadn’t.

She hastened to reassure me there was no damage to her right leg and I noted the lack of damage to the contents or my trolley. Then I stared at her and she stared at me because believe it or not we both had the same bloody tattoo, done in exactly the same colours, identical except for the fact that mine had been done about forty years earlier than hers.

Alright so I got mine in North London in nineteen sixty three. It cost me eleven and six and bled like hell for a week. It got it done on my right forearm. Hers was on the upper left arm, cost over a hundred quid and had been done about six weeks ago, so she said.

“Amazing!” she said, still staring intently “I thought mine was unique”

She was a very slim, shortish girl, about five foot four I suppose in jeans and teeshirt with shoulder length dark blonde hair.

“I thought mine was too, when I got it” I said.

We laughed over that then she, upon hearing that mine was about forty five years old asked if I thought the same tattooist had done both. I had to say I thought that unlikely as the artist who given me mine was in his mid fifties at the time.

“He’d be over a hundred now, if he did!” I told her.

We laughed again and she admitted the artist she’d used had been a comparatively young man.

“Maybe his son then?” she enquired.

I said it was a possibility except that mine had been done in North London and hers about a hundred and fifty miles further away from there.

“Tattooists like a good basic design” I said “One that is easy for them to adapt and alter to suit their needs. This one may have been around for years”

“Did he do all the others? she asked, peering at the others on my arms.

I began to tell her about the ex-sailor in Singapore and the Biker in L.A and how different their works were when she asked what, where tattooed people are concerned, is an inevitable question.

“Have you any more elsewhere?”

I told her I had and whereabouts they were. She looked interested, smiled then told me she had another one too and that its whereabouts were a secret, implying, I supposed, its location was somewhere erotic or sexual. Then she smiled some more and turned away, looking, I thought, slightly embarrassed.

We went our separate ways after that, me towards the magazines and checkout and she in the opposite direction, re-meeting, inadvertently in the supermarket carpark. I’d parked where I often do in the shade of a tree and she, as she always did I found out later, was walking back to her flat some distance away.

“How far are you going?” I asked.

She told me.

“I can give you a lift if you like” I offered “I’m going that way”

It was a stupid thing to offer I know. It would put her in an awkward position and, for all she knew, get her into a lot of trouble. I was pleasantly surprised then when she agreed readily, even going so far as to put her shopping next to mine in the boot of the car.

“My mum always told me never to get into strange men’s cars!” she told me as she got in and slammed the door.

“I’m not strange” I said “I’m just me. Anyway why don’t you phone home and tell them you’re coming? Give them my car number if you like”

The girl looked straight ahead for a moment, then she said:

“No-one at home to phone…… anyway……I wouldn’t have got in with you if I didn’t think it’d be alright”

I thought that an honest and upfront thing to say, and told her so. Then I started the car and drove out of the car park.

………………

Somewhere along the way we exchanged names and one or two other details, which sort of happened without any prompting from either of us.

“Hello Sara, my name is Mike” I said.

Hello Mike” she with a grin.

Soon after that I turned into the road where her flat was situated, into the kerb and turned off the engine.

“Here we are” I said. She nodded. The journey had been far too short and swift I concluded wistfully.

I opened the boot for her and she took out her shopping, then out of the blue asked if I’d like to come in for a drink. If I tell you it was unexpected in the extreme you will know I am not exaggerating.

“That’s very kind!” I said, feeling suddenly light headed. It had all happened as quickly as that.

Her flat was one of those little all in one sorts so popular with developers in the seventies and eighties. Studio flats they used to call them. In effect they’re a single main room with a small kitchenette off one end and a similarly sized bathroom off the other. This one was on the second floor and there was no lift.

Yes the flat was small inside. It was also untidy, a fact which seemed utterly normal to Sara who obviously didn’t care. I stood in the doorway for a moment and surveyed the chaos, then, as she disappeared into the kitchen I took a step in. The sound of water running suggested she was filling a kettle, a few moments later she peered around the door and enquired:

“Tea?”

“Tea would be lovely!” I told her, wondering what sort of mess the kitchen was in. No the flat wasn’t dirty so much as untidy, as if Sara had trouble actually putting things away. For instance there were several items of clothing lying on the floor, knickers crumpled up as small as handkerchiefs and another unidentified garment tied around in a knot with itself. Seven or eight paperback books sat crookedly on what appeared to be the only chair and an unfinished takeaway meal lay next to a hairbrush sporting several strands of her hair.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess!” Sara called out from the kitchen “If you want you can sit on the bed……..”

That was certainly an invitation not to be refused I said to myself briskly. The only problem was where the hell was it!

I heard the tea being made more or less at the same time as I espied what I at first took to be a small sofa up against the wall at one end of the room. Just like everywhere else there was a lot of stuff lying on it.

“Sugar and milk?” Sara called out.

“Just milk please” I answered making my way towards the bed.

A brightly coloured fleece jacket, half inside out, adorned one end of the bed, along with several out of date colour supplements, another paperback novel and a couple of tattoo magazines. Then I took a quick double take; what I’d thought at first glance to be a torch turned out to be a rather cumbersome looking vibrator.

“Chuck that jacket on the other end and sit there!” Sara said pushing some stuff aside with one foot before putting a large mug of tea down on a little table.

There was more crumpled underwear with the fleece jacket when I moved it but Sara made no comment about any of it.

“Do you……….live on your own?” I ventured carefully.

“Can’t you tell?” she laughed, going back into the kitchen.

She brought her own mug of tea then, the same size and shape as the one she’d brought out for me. Red and white mugs bearing the KitKat biscuit sign.

“This is most unexpected…..” I began to say.

“And for me too” she said quickly. “I don’t often talk to …….to older men……”

“And I don’t often get the chance to talk to someone as young as you. I certainly didn’t expect to be invited back to your flat”

Sara smiled, showing me her evenly sized little teeth

“Well……there you are……” she said.

“What decided you to get a tattoo?” I asked, taking the bull firmly by the horns again.

“Oh I……I thought it was about time to get one” Sara said “A lot of my friends were doing it so I thought I’d do it too”

“Fashion then” I suggested “Follow my leader!”

“S……something like that” Sara agreed “but after I got this one…...” she turned her upper arm towards me, “I discovered I liked the feel of it being done”

“You didn’t find it painful?”

Sara shook her head quickly. “Not……painful, no more of a……”

“Discomfort?” I suggested.

“Mmmm, not even that! More like the sensation I get when…when, you know, you use a vibrator”

I picked up my tea quickly, took a sip and looked at her over the rim of the mug.

“Did you get the same results?” I asked.

Sara pulled a face, returning my gaze challengingly.

“When I got the second one done I did……”

“Oh yes……I see……”

“And the tattooist knew it too!”

“Oh yes?”

“He laughed, stopped working and asked if I was alright……”

For a moment I didn’t quite know what to say. Here we were, total strangers to each other and yet she was talking to me as openly as she would had we been friends for years.

“And were you?” I asked “Alright I mean?”

She grinned wryly.

“Yeah I was!” she said. “After I’d cum……”

“Ah……!”

There was little more I could say.

“It’s an intimate “she said quickly “that’s what the tattooist called it. He said it might……might……I can show you if you like……”

I put the mug of tea down carefully and looked at her.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I dunno!” she admitted “’cept I’ve always wanted to show somebody”

“And today it is going to be me?”

“Yeah……!”

She undid the stud at the top of her jeans, unzipped them and with a quick little bobbing movement pushed both jeans and knickers, twisted together, down as far as her knees. A brightly coloured and intricately designed tattoo covered the area where I’d expected her pubic hair to be.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It is certainly quite colourful” I told her, somewhat startled.

“Can you see what it is?”

Well her thighs were quite slim and there was a noticeable space between them, so I could see the shape of her pussy quite plainly. The design of the artwork extended as far as her labia apparently but, distinctive as it was, what the tattoo itself was I really could not see.

“No……” I began “Is it a dragon?”

“Don’t be silly!”

“Ok!”

“Wait a minute……”

Sara sat on the edge of the bed right next to me and pulled off her jeans. It was an act so casual and yet so premeditated that I couldn’t help wondering if she hadn’t picked me up deliberately. That must be it, I thought, that’s what she’s done. Then the fact I’d picked her up, not the reverse, occurred to me. She’d accepted my offer of a lift readily though, hadn’t she? Even living as she did less than half a mile away. Maybe this is my lucky day I thought.

“Now can you see?” she asked demurely.

Her left leg was very close to my hip, bent at the knee and her right, also bent was so far away I could hardly see it. The space in between, bright coloured and intricate, stared back at me.

It was a stylised lizard I saw immediately, a reptile of improbable proportions and colouring. The top part of it that is for the body of the creature was drawn in such a way as to suggest it was emerging from her pussy.

And that was how I came to have a girlfriend who is younger than my daughter. Don’t ask me for details, I didn’t ask either. All Sara would say was that she liked me.

“Older men have maturity and stability” she told me “As well as patience and knowledge which is what I need”

I didn’t make love to her straight away that afternoon, she made me wait for at least ten minutes. I didn’t disappoint her when I got undressed because after what she’d shown me I was respectably erect. Even then she seemed to be in no hurry, playing around in an experimental kind of way with me. She was small and tight inside and felt wonderful, ten feet tall if not more as I’d not been with a woman for such a long time and never with one as sexy as Sara. She’d small, immature looking breasts as well when she took her top off, the obvious answer to my unasked question of why she didn’t wear a bra.

“How old are you?” I had to ask at one point for I had become inexplicably worried “If you don’t mind me asking.

“I’ll be twenty next birthday” she smiled “You?”

I took a deep breath “Sixty three……”

“You don’t look it” the dear girl told me immediately.

“Well I live alone and buy a lot of porn!” I said

“You’ve no need to do that any more! Sara said. Then, for the first time surprisingly, we actually kissed.

It was a week ago when this all happened and we’ve made love a dozen or more times since then. She wants me, she says and I want her, naturally, want her, oh hell yes, I want her more than anything.

Lizard and all.



Flat ……………… Apartment

Lift………………...Elevator.

Car park…...…… Parking Lot

Boot……………….Trunk

Eleven and Six… An amount of pre-decimal money

Quid……………….One Pound Sterling.

Car …………… …Automobile

© Aahlu. 2011.