Cougar Hunting
A story in honor of Goddess Marquesa’s birthday on July 1
“Look, mate! It’s the Blonde Bombshell! And tonight she’s alone,” Paul said, in what I had learned was a North London accent. He and I had met as freshman roommates at the University of West Florida. I was from the Midwest, he was from the UK, but we hit it off right away. We had a lot in common. Both of us had good looks and a way with the ladies. Both of us had an aversion to studying and a love for the party-hard lifestyle of our much richer classmates.
Our careers as undergraduates didn’t last, but our friendship did. After washing out of college we both stayed in Florida. It had good weather and was full of lonely, wealthy retirees. Paul and I drifted naturally into careers as local gigolos. We would frequently run across each other in the swankier beach side hotels, which were the best venues for “Cougar Hunting.” Read more…
“Hello,” I chirped as the woman on the other end answered her phone, “this is ‘Santa’s Little Helpers’ calling about your Christopher Radko ornament.”
I had been marking her movements very carefully since my girlfriend and I had followed her into the supermarket. My first view of her from the back was breathtaking. Gorgeous legs, lush blond hair, and a curvaceous figure that her sheer white sundress clung to enticingly. When she turned to procure a shopping cart and I saw her bewitching green eyes, my heart skipped several beats.
