Noona

She was a much older woman, and maybe I liked that. As she walked towards me, seductively stripping off one article of clothing at a time, her eyes in full bed-room mode, I had to admit my heart quickened. But enough was enough.

“Suzee,” I back away rapidly from the advancing woman. “This has to stop. I don’t like you like that.”

“Oh baby,” pouncing forward she grabbed hold of my shirt collar. “Don’t say that. You know you want it just as bad as I do. And I could show you such a good time,” she licked her lips in an exaggerated manner, making me cringe.

“Doesn’t matter,” I tried to gently detangle myself from her grasp. “I’m not interested in older woman.” Honestly that wasn’t the full truth, but it didn’t take me long after meeting the cougar currently pawing at my chest to realize experience comes at a price, usually sanity.

Suzee refused to let go and instead pushed me up against a wall, kissing me long and hard. I struggled to break away and finally caught a breath of air around thick lipstick. Suzee busily unbuttoned my shirt until I tightly gripped her hands in my own. “Listen to me.” I said seriously, looking her in the eyes. “I’m sorry there was a misunderstanding, but I’m not interested in you. Please put your clothes back on and leave my house.”

“Aww baby,” she cooed. “What’s wrong? I don’t bite.” She leaned forward and snapped playfully at my collarbones. I pushed her away roughly, not longer so concerned with treating her like a lady.

“I can’t be with someone as old as you.” I blurted out.

“As old as me?” She scoffed. “I’m barely over… I’m not old.” She snapped in my direction. “You’re hardly one to talk!”

“I’m only – ”

“You’re legal; that’s all that mattered.” Suzee turned away and I sighed with relief until a finger stab my chest. “You know what your problem is? You’re not man enough for me. You’ll see, older women are better. You’ll learn once you grow up.” Turning on her heels she stormed off, picking up each article of clothing she’ d tossed aside on her way to the door. Slamming it shut behind her she cut off her perfume trail, leaving me slightly scratched by her foreplay nails but otherwise no worse for wear.

Sighing fully in relief I sank to the floor, grateful I’d managed to avoid the mauling. I decided from then on to never see a woman old enough to be my mom ever again. It was just too weird. It was like dating the Crypt Keeper or something.

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I Need You

“Come home. I need you. Now.”

Male Version:

“Who is it Steven?” His co-worker asked. The two men sat in Steven’s office going over the schedule for the week.

Steven looked up from his phone. “It’s my wife. She just texted me.” He smiled. “She says she needs me.”

His co-worker smiled a sly smile. “You dog,” The two burst into laughter.

“Oh, you know how it is. I really am lucky she still loves a guy like me. Honestly, she can hardly keep her hands off me!” His co-worker nodded in understanding. “When I walk through the door at night I have to practically fight her off me. It’s like “Jesus woman, let me at least get my shoes off!” You know?” The two laughed again.

Sighing, he shut his phone and put it away, content to know his wife could wait until his work was done.

“Silly women.”

Female Version:

Abigail cured her husband. Why didn’t he answer her text? Hadn’t he read it? Didn’t he understand her urgency? Her need?

A robber pressed the gun harder against the back of her head. What misery. There she’d been, going about her day as usual; she’d stopped at home on her lunch to pick up some things. Standing in the bedroom she’d heard a quiet commotion downstairs. Instinctively, innocently, she’d gone to investigate. She saw the robbers before they saw her, thankfully, and she’d dashed back into the room. Shutting the door, she quickly hid in the closet. The robbers must have heard something however, for no sooner had she crouched amongst some clothes than she heard the bedroom door open.

She couldn’t call 911, they would hear her voice. Panicked, she did the next thing that came to her mind; she texted her husband. Fighting back pants of hysterics, she waited. Suddenly the closet door swung open. Looking up into the cold eyes of a man she didn’t recognize, Abigail screamed. He reached out and grabbed her by the hair. Fighting hard, she was drug out of the closet and down the stairs to the living room. Told to keep quiet, a gun was drawn.

This is about the time Abigail began to curse her husband. She watched as men stole everything. Car keys, TVs, clocks, watches, the new crock pot they’d received for Christmas, even their daughter’s piggybank. All gone. Finally, ten minutes later, she was thanked kindly for her cooperation and knocked unconscious.

A few hours later, Steven would come home to this scene, left completely surprised. Once she came to, Abigail would set about berating, both emotionally and physically, her husband for his ego. Then, much later, they would finally call the police.     

“Stupid men.”