Mature Black Loofah

Author's Notes

Ethan is a bored retiree with a past he'd rather keep bottled up. What he was not anticipating was just how hard it was to keep still with all the time he now had on his hands. That was until he saw a Black Loofah swinging on the hip of a cute thing.

Expanding my horizons into the Mature category a bit. Would love to hear your feedback and what your thoughts are in the comments!

Thanks Kenji as always for being an amazing editor!

The Black Loofah

Cicada song, the trilling of golf carts, and the seasoned laughter of the golden years of life. Such was the existence of a retiree, where the biggest worry to have was finding the optimal parking spot at Plenish Grocery. The last electric whine of the battery ceased, as Ethan Locke removed the key from the ignition of his Fairway Cruiser. Sitting back, he took a warm breath as the humid condensation of life in southern Westoria collected on his brow. Around him, similar golf carts and other buggies sat idle outside of the local grocery fare. Many of which sported an eclectic mix of flags, decor, and most notoriously-- loofahs.

Ethan was a reserved person, had been for his whole life, both personally and professionally. He made it a point to never wear nor tout any sort of symbolism on either clothing, car, or cart. He didn't want people to see what he was about by looking at some bumper sticker on his car, or a flag outside his garage. He wanted to go unnoticed, unverifiable, and uncommitted to any cause or creed. Most of all, he found the loofah to be particularly contemptuous.

In his six months since moving to The Preserve Retirement Community, he could not understand the proclivity of displaying advertisements of your sexual preferences for the world to see. The proverbial "open for business" sign that was Loofah Code in the Preserve. A rainbow of such colored loofahs advertised anything from those who liked to watch, to those with submissive tendencies. From the red-colored loofahs of those open to anything and everything, to pink loofahs of those open to fully swapping partners. It made his stomach roll at times, especially seeing his retired peers who outwardly advertised such things. They should know better.

It was not hard to find, either; walking through the parking lot to the store entrance, he could spot at least a dozen carts with such outward displays. Perhaps the rumors he had heard before moving here, about this being the venereal disease capital of Corvusia were true. Certainly, his neighbors wanted to live their best life in their later years.

For now, as he'd adjusted to retired life, Ethan took a humid, deep breath and chose to ignore it. Perhaps, the transition from serious work to carefree life made him a bit jaded. The frightening thought that with enough idleness he could become one of the loofah-touting floozies of this community, scared him for a moment, but he would never.

"They let anybody in here." The age-old adage thrown about by middle-aged dads the world over caught Ethan off guard, as he moved between the gradient of temperatures that separated the warm outside to the cooler AC of the grocer.

"Trick is to not give 'em a choice," Ethan responded, with a small smirk. Throwing out his hand to meet his old friend's embrace.

An older couple, greyed, wrinkled, but modest-- and thankfully absent of any loofahs-- stood before him in front of the BOGO bin at the entrance to the store. Ethan was particularly hopeful to not see their golf cart, out of some dread his perception of his old co-worker and friend would be broken.

"You settled in yet? I told you I would come help unpack boxes."

"Yes please, get him out of the house and working!" the wife jested, as she poked her husband's arm.

"Ha... sorry, Julia, but I'm all unpacked. I have been since day two."

"Hmph, no surprise. You always were efficient back at the company."

Ethan's smirk wavered, trying to conceal himself. As a defensive mechanism he changed the subject.

"Just enjoying the day out, Bill?"

"Ha... I always like goading you. It's gonna take a while for you to change."

"'Til I'm dead."

Both Bill and Julia laughed heartily.

"Oh come on, Ethan... relax a little, you've earned it." Julia brushed his arm kindly, a warm smile on her face.

"I'm still young. Still a lot I could do."

"Don't be bitter, Ethan. Count yourself lucky to retire at fifty-five. Not a lot of us get the privilege."

"I wouldn't call it that."

"My friend, think of the bright side, find yourself a woman while you are still fifty-five years young and handsome, settle down, travel, keep yourself busy with things other than memories of work."

"Ah, like that cute thing we saw in the soup aisle?" Julia giggled.

"Ha! Yes, like that."

"What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing... just some girl, young thing, walking around the store, loofah on her hip."

"A black loofah."

"Oh gods..."

"Eh, you get them from time to time. Girls, even boys, who come to the community looking for a more... mature encounter."

"Oh, okay, whoa there, not you both, too."

"Oh no, no, don't get us wrong, not our style. But for how casual it is, might be right up your alley."

"Not likely."

"I bet a man like you would be a perfect match for her desires."

"Really, Julia?" Ethan was growing tired, maybe this place was wrong for him.

"Really..."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because of the black loofah."

"What does that even mean? I haven't planned to learn loofah code."

"Really? A discerning man like you hasn't cracked the code yet?"

Ethan just stared, no plans to entertain that question.

"Well, buddy, I'll give you this one." He patted Ethan on the shoulder, coming alongside him and pointing towards aisle four where the soup lay waiting. "The black loofah... means she wants to be dominated and used. Sort of a lack of dignity, I guess. Like I said, it isn't my style."

"Oh, but you think it's mine?"

Both Bill and Julia laughed at the notion, shaking their heads in unison as they began to slowly step away. It made Ethan a little annoyed that the couple was having a gag at his expense, but with a rub of his temple, he decided it was best to let it go.

"Later, Locke," Bill said, without even a turn of his head. The older couple had a laugh at his expense all the way out to the parking lot.

Collecting himself, Ethan would move on, just as silently and discreetly as he could.

Thoughts of the soup aisle occupied his mind for a time, and of this alleged black loofah. Some grim curiosity occupied him, as he gathered his deli meat and produce. Centering himself, he tried to focus on other things, but therein lay the problem. Retired, nary a job or family, what should he focus on?

That fear of nothingness hung over him like a cloud, as he entered the maw of the soup aisle. Grasping on to a faint memory of meaning and purpose, he struggled within himself, 'til the black mesh ball of fabric hanging from a jutted hip caught his eye.

"You know. You ever been to Maragesh? I have a whole collection of jewels the girls there used to wear dancing. Got it during my time working for the oil company. The most beautiful thing there, a sort of necklace that hung along the girls hips, and bright colorful jewels hanging above their navels as they danced circles around us, bopping their hips side to side."

An older man, amidst a long-winded and tiresome story, drew his finger across the supple bare skin of a girl's midriff as he outlined just where such a jewel would be. As he blathered on, he rested his full palm on the girl's tummy, stroking it with his thumb as she hung close to him. She was far younger than he, so much so he wondered if this girl should even be here alone. Her soft face and innocent eyes happily lingered within the older man's grasp as she flaunted her young body in a black spaghetti-strap crop-top and baggy sweats.

"You know. One of those jewels would look fantastic on a beauty like you. Want to try?" The older man smiled, his finger strumming her belly button as she smiled brightly and prepared to nod.

"Gideon." Ethan cut through the awkward sexual tension hoarsely, as he approached unannounced.

"Oh! Shoot! Ethan." The old man, bald head glistening in the LED light from above, separated from the girl some, but not totally, in surprise. A rather guilty expression on his wrinkled face as he caught his breath.

"The hell, Ethan, you, you scared me. And Tilly!"

"Tilly, huh?" He hung over the pair, taller than both, more in shape than Gideon, and observed the girl. She had long frizzy brown hair, soft white skin, and what the youth would call a "snatched" waist. Must be the "cute thing" Bill and Julia were referring to earlier. And sure enough, there hung a black loofah on her hip, like an open-for-business sign.

His lecherous friend, Gideon, was a known quantity. Never was a tail he didn't try to chase. If the black loofah was what he was told it means, Then, certainly, he saw this as his chance.

"Hi, yes I am Tilly." The young girl smiled brightly, eyes like fire, looking over the newcomer before her. Tracing his tattooed arms to his grey beard, she gawked for a long moment. What looked like an intense shiver, shot up her body oddly, as she, too, separated from her previous interest.

"Gideon, this one is old enough to be your granddaughter."

"Pfft, but she ain't." A phlegmy laugh followed.

Ethan stoically looked over the pair, the girl named "Tilly" still sized him up with much interest, as she kept her hands behind her back and small chest pushed out proudly.

"What would Myrtle think?"

Tilly looked surprised, obviously he had not mentioned his wife as of yet. But what did this girl expect? To walk around the Preserve, the preeminent retirement community and just find a bunch of single men?

"Oh well, hey, Ethan, you don't gotta go that far." Gideon looked terse at the reminder of his wife.

"Just saying." Ethan cooly shrugged his shoulders.

"Hmph... well, I should tell yo--" Gideon paused mid-thought, shook his head and turned away. "You know what, never mind. Tilly, sorry to bother you." The stout and bald man strutted off, leaving his cart half full of groceries behind.

"Thank you, sir." Tilly took a step closer to Ethan, her eyes still observing him. His broad shoulders, tanned skin, and muscular chest fascinating her imagination. "That guy was never gonna stop bothering me, I think." She played the damsel in distress. Yet such an act didn't work when the damsel was wearing a big sign that said "fuck me" on it.

"Don't mention it. Where are your parents?"

"Parents? What am I a kid?"

"I don't know. Are you?" Ethan looked at her coldly.

This seemed to bother Tilly, her cute cheeks puffing out and eyebrows growing red as she stared up at him.

"No, I'm nineteen." Her retort was cold, with a spritz of attitude as she came nose to chest with him. "And I'm just passing through. Looking for a friend." She reached out and grazed Ethan's veiny arm, rubbing it up to his elbow before he pulled back.

Catching himself, Ethan cracked his neck, looking down at the petite girl hanging so loosely beneath her clothes, an eager smile on her face. Her dainty shoulders beneath the strings of her tank-top shrugged, as she mustered all her allure to ensnare him.

"Well. You should find friends your own age, honestly." Closing himself off, his cold stoicism became obvious, and the eagerness in Tilly was disturbed.

"Hey, where are you going?!" She watched as he walked away with his basket, inspecting a can of broth a few meters down the aisle.

"Shopping. You should go home, there are a lot of men who will eat you up and spit you right back out around here. Girl like you shouldn't get entangled with that."

He didn't even bother looking back to her as he turned down the next aisle. It was a spurn that made the girl enflamed, not only with rage, but with a prideful desire to show this Ethan guy, otherwise. She was young, beautiful, and eager. No man should walk away from her. Glaring, she struck out in the opposite direction, she was not giving up so easily.

Content on leaving that problem in the past, Ethan moved on to his next priority in life, picking out ground coffee. Of course, being practical and on the budget of a retiree, his eye strayed towards the on-sale signs so brightly and predominantly placed along the shelves. Their trendy packages and hip names each sticking out to him.

Black Tiger, Black Brew, Black Lotus, Black Morning.

Ethan grunted. Why was he so preoccupied by this whole thing? He blamed Bill, personally, he couldn't hold a grudge against his nice wife; she had made him cake when he moved in. But Bill always pissed him off, whether it was in retirement or back at work in Millbourne. And here, he had this black-loofah nonsense stuck in his head.

Taking a loud and deep breath that disturbed a few other passersby, some looking on with concern, Ethan buried it. He had become truly content, he could go on about his day weaving through the aisles of the store. His only worry was bumping into an oncoming cart at the mouth of each aisle.

"Pool? Ohmygosh, I love that game. It's the one with the big... sticks, right?" A ditsy statement drenched in purposeful suggestion caught Ethan's attention.

"Yeah beautiful, we got a whole set up back at my place. Drinks, food. You should come play with us."

"I betcha some of these guys will even offer to spot ya a hand or two of poker."

"Wow really? That sounds really fun."

Tilly scrunched her nose, an older man hung close behind her swatting at the black loofah on her hip as they all knowingly laughed.

For what reason did he even feel the need to intervene? He honestly should care less about this girl. But as he happened upon the scene, the teen having been surrounded by five hungry retired men, it was the look she gave him that sucked him in. The look was as if she were saying, "If you don't stop me, I'll do it." It dared him to care.

Truth be told, Ethan was discerning. He could read people, it came with his previous profession. This girl didn't read like a garden-variety slut. That was just the layer she wore as a cloak.

What Ethan was not, was a noble knight of virtue. He had no higher calling to adhere to, no strong set of convictions to judge himself against. Just his desire to remain discreet.

But regardless, something willed him to step towards the gaggle of lust.

"Harold, Lukus." He pointedly interrupted the crowd of men honed in on the lone girl. What struck Ethan the most was that no one else in the store seemed to notice or care about these situations. It was just a fact of life there.

"Ethan, man. Good to see you." Unlike Gideon, Harold didn't even flinch, or remove his hand from the small of Tilly's back when he was called upon. He just smiled, holding the girl close as she bumped him with her hip in a flirty way, just hoping Ethan would be jealous.

"We're gonna go back to my place and get a few games of poker in. We made a friend who's going to join us, too." Lukus, a tall and slim man who looked the most comfortable in a boardroom, smiled. "Should be fun."

Tilly smiled and squinted at Ethan, as if she would get a rise out of him.

"Huh, I see that. How are the wives doing?" He gave back his own smile, less a tell of emotion and more a non-verbal tool.

The looks on the five men's faces soured. Some annoyed, others embarrassed. The crowd cleared quickly as they scurried in all directions away from the teen; Lukus grunting as he looked Ethan in the eye and silently walked away.

"You're a real saint," Lukus muttered, as he disappeared down the bread aisle.

Ethan didn't pay them any attention. Clearly, he was not making any friends in the community any time soon.

"If you're not going to do anything with me... then why don't you just leave me alone!" Tilly shouted, a few virtuous old ladies in various hats stopped and scoffed, their heads shaking as they saw Ethan with the black-loofah-wearing teen.

"You can just walk on away, let me do as I please. Seriously." She shoved past Ethan, like a little feather with the disparity of their size, but enough to prove a point.

"Fine. You're a grown woman," Ethan growled. He didn't really care anyways. He only did something because this whole black-loofah shit was stuck in his head.

She didn't turn back, but for a brief second, she held back a sob. Crossing her arms tightly as she marched through the frozen food section of the store, out of sight and out of Ethan's mind.

"Fuck it, thank god." He gruffly closed his eyes and cracked his neck. When he opened his eyes, those three old ladies were still staring at him, judging him, shaking their heads. "Oh, good grief." He dashed into the next aisle, even though it was the pet food aisle, and he did not have one of those. Anything but those looks of judgement.

It was a lot harder to get Tilly and that damned loofah out of his mind-- her burning eyes glistening with tears and rage. She certainly was a feisty girl. He must be getting soft in his retirement, drawn in like that to something that was not his business. He'd dealt with plenty of women before, both in professional and... other settings. None could claim to have any power over him.

Reflecting on the first six months of his end-of-life exile, perhaps, he did need to get a hobby, or a lady, or something. He'd be damned if Bill would be right, but the way he was feeling certainly gave it some credence.

Last aisle, dairy, just a few quick grabs and he could be off and home before he knew it. Perhaps, he was tired, and a nap was in order. All of this weird loofah imagery and young sluts made him weary. What a day.

But fate wasn't having it, and neither was the girl named Tilly. Coming into the aisle, the pair locked eyes once more. This time, Ethan had to look way down, as Tilly was bent over at the hip picking up something she more than likely purposefully dropped. Behind her, yet another older man, and surprisingly, his wife who looked just as interested. Seeing Ethan, the young Tilly quickly backward stepped, her small ass pushing against the old man's crotch as she kept herself doubled over.

"Whoa, hey there, sweetie." The old man laughed, his wife clinging on to his arm with a bright veneer smile.

"She certainly is flexible, a healthy girl!" The greyed lady fussed with her perm as she watched her slide her ass along her husband's crotch.

Popping up, Tilly kept her eyes on Ethan, but slowly peeled them away with a knowing expression as she turned to face her new suitors.

"Oh yes, ma'am, strong and healthy." She held up her two lanky arms, thin and devoid of any muscular definition. Her girlish smile drew in the older couple, their eyes focusing on the slight jiggle of her tits beneath her tank-top as she moved around.

"Well, we'd love a girl of your vitality come and join us for lunch today. It would be a lot of... fun..." the older lady mused, her done-up hair and bright makeup concealing her old age just as much as the poignant perfume did the staleness of her flesh.

Ethan walked by, without a look in their direction or word. Tilly's eyes were focused on him, hoping he would say something. Her mouth hung open like she was about to yell at him, chastise him for not being man enough to take her home. But as he turned down the end of the aisle, her heart sank, and her eyes flickered, for just a moment, of dark self-reflection.

"Yeah... it would be a lot of fun." She gulped, her tone at first like a contribution to the void, only hurriedly scooped up by a lackluster performance of interest. She gave her best smile to the older couple, the man's hands falling on her bare hips like a flood, as she felt every wrinkle of his palm.

"Damnit, come on." A rough hand, one seasoned by the years yet still powerful, grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the grip of the couple.

"Hey, wait!" The old lady whined, as Tilly was pulled down the aisle by Ethan.

The teen girl could hardly believe it, following behind the broad-shouldered and salted man eagerly, as she came to terms with how she had won. Her smile faded from acting to joy, scooting along happily beside Ethan as soon as he let go of her arm.

"Wow, you are pretty strong." She giggled, teasing Ethan as she followed him closely to the front of the store. "So, you caved after all then, huh?"

"Stop it. And take that damn loofah off." He shot her a firm look of authority, one meant to pacify her need to be so bubbly.

Of course, it had the opposite effect, a bit of luster falling over her as his angry gaze made her tingle.

"Okay, daddy... whatever you say." She ripped the mesh ball off her hip and stuck it in his basket.

"Don't call me that..." he grunted, removing the loofah from his basket and tossing it in a waste bin.

There was a long and silent few minutes, as they rushed through the checkout. Ethan certainly wanted to get out of the grocery store as quickly as possible with few prying eyes. Already a few of the men he had dragged Tilly away from had noticed her hovering beside him with a grin on her face. Their curses and accusations of Ethan being a hypocrite certainly did not need imagination. The young girl simply stood happily next to him, looking his broad shoulders and matured frame over, from time to time, as she fussed with her hair. The cashier could not move fast enough for Ethan's liking, he had to get out of there.

A long few moments later, Ethan led her outside to his Fairway Cruiser, loading the bags in the basket. His steps were so long that Tilly nearly had to run beside him. Before he could even invite her to, she was in the passenger seat, verging on the middle of the bench to touch hips with her new friend.

"So... Ethan, right?" She sheepishly smiled, as she patted her legs and scooted her rear in the seat.

Sighing, a hand wiping the humidity and shame from his face, Ethan nodded. "Yup... and yours is Tilly... correct?" He looked at her with doubt.

His eyes called her out, and for a brief moment pierced the facade she had erected around herself. Ethan could tell that he had gotten to her when she winced at his gaze. Her suggestive and giddy smile fading for a moment, like a power surge to her defensive systems. Seconds later, however, with a twitch of her lip she would recover, as if she had tossed aside the doubt in her mind.

"Yup! that's correct." She bumped shoulders with him, her older companion groaning as he threw the key in the ignition and peeled the gold cart out in reverse. "Whoa!" She would hold on by grabbing his bicep.

"I need that to drive. Use the handle."

"Well, calm down there, speed racer." She taunted him, with an antiquated tone mocking his age.

Leaving the parking lot of the store in a hurry, Ethan came to the intersection and halted. Looking at the girl next to him, who so suggestively gazed up at him, he couldn't help but see down her tank-top neckline-- modest breasts beading with sweat beneath. Quickly, he looked away, taking yet another calming breath.

"Where do you live?" He wouldn't even look at her.

"Weird question for a man taking me home," she rebuked, sliding closer to him.

A firm hand and a shove to her side saw her sliding away on the seat as Ethan put some distance between them. This girl was trouble, and he needed to be rid of her quickly before she infected him.

"No, no... where do you live? Where are your parents? Your family?"

"I told you, I'm nineteen, I don't need my parents."

"Sure, kid. You have your own house, then?"

"Is this like a weird your-place-or-mine-sort-of conversation?"

Ethan huffed. "See, I'm not fooling around right now, where do you live? I am taking you home, you don't need to be fooling around with some of these old perverts."

"That's your opinion." She crossed her arms, looking out towards the palm trees swaying in the cool breeze.

"Yeah, it is, and you're in my cart. So where do you live?"

"With whatever old pervert takes me in. Does that bother you?" She grinned tenaciously, as she looked over at him, tagging him as much.

It bothered Ethan, it bothered Ethan a whole lot. He just didn't know why. He cursed not having a hobby in his retirement. Without cause, without reason. Here, this girl has metastasized to some part of him that was waiting for a magnetic connection, a drive, a purpose.

honk, honk

Behind them, another golf cart was impatiently waiting for Ethan to make a turn. Left towards town, or right towards his house. Tilly looked no closer to telling him where exactly she lived.

"Ethan! Wake up!" A familiar voice from behind him grabbed him out of his trance.

honk, honk

They drew his attention again. It was Bill and Julia, smiling knowingly at him as they observed the cute thing from the soup aisle in his passenger seat.

"Damnit," he muttered, throwing the cart into drive and taking the turn towards his home. With a simple wave to his pestering friends, he pushed that cart to its limit to get away. Next to him, the long, wavy hair on Tilly's head flew behind her in the most mesmerizing way...

---

The growling engine of the Fairway Cruiser sputtered as it climbed the inclined driveway to the two-car garage. A simple, modernist, block home painted in layers of white and grey so new, the palm tree out front had supports. A dozen houses to the left, and a dozen houses to the right looked like an exact copy-and-paste, where the artist threw in a mirror image from time to time.

"Cute." Tilly toyed with the hem of her tank-top, as it hugged her upper abdomen. She had been fiddling with her clothes and fingers the whole drive. Nearly drove Ethan mad with how little she sat still. Was it nervousness? A tick? Or worst of all, excitement? He dreaded imagining.

"I guess you could call it that." He clicked the garage-door opener and the metal gate rose with a roar, revealing a spick-and-span interior neatly organized and devoid of any clue that he had just moved in.

"Wow."

"Never seen a garage before?"

"Yeah... but not one so clean... and what's that?" She hopped out of the cart, rushing to the glistening, red-enameled Stratos XR two-door that elegantly caught her eye. The young girl seemed enamored with it, perhaps the trappings of it and what it meant. She knew he had money now. Of course, that was like shooting fish in a barrel in this town.

"Sorry... I don't mean to get my nasty finger prints on it." She bashfully retracted her digits that had grazed its waxed body. Turning her rear to the car, with a smile, she wiped the finger marks away with the fabric of her sweats and ass.

Looking away, he figured he better not give her any attention for it.

"You going to invite me in?" She fiddled with the waistband of her sweats and tiptoed across the clean garage floor.

"Listen, we are just going to get to the bottom of where you live, and I'm taking you there right away. No funny business."

Squinting her eyes, she looked to detest the idea, but the gears seemingly went round and round in her head.

Inside, the temperature plane hit them like a wall of ice. Ethan liked it cold; he ran hot, otherwise. Tilly's delicate skin prickled almost instantly, her hands rubbing along her bare arms. She made to get close to Ethan, but he purposefully kept his distance, making the teen girl look more pitiful and needy as she followed him through the kitchen.

"So... do you live alone here?" She looked around at the simple, minimalist style of the house. Furniture was neutral colors, art if it was present was abstract and simple. Nothing stuck out to tell a story about the mysterious man she chose to follow home. It was much like his persona, minimal, unassuming, and enigmatic.

"Yeah." Ethan put his grocery bags on the counter and began to unload. One eye was on Tilly, as she paced around his living room looking to the vaulted ceilings and trying to gain the slightest details about him.

"No missus?" Tilly cheerily smiled.

"Nope..."

"Something happen to her?.... or divorce? or....?"

"Or."

"Ugh... you don't have to be so rude; I am just trying to get to know you."

"Why? I am about to take you home in a few minutes."

"If you could find out where I live."

Placing the orange juice neatly between the lemonade and milk, he grunted, getting nowhere with the girl.

"Fine... you ask me a question, I'll answer. Then you answer one of mine." He stood on the opposite side of the central kitchen island from her, looking at her defiant stance, arms crossed while biting her lip.

Perking up, the idea seemed to interest her, as a sly expression conjoined with an eager step closer to the island. She sat upon a stool, leaning over the counter so her neckline would hang just enough to give him a peek down her cleavage should he so choose. Ethan did his best not to partake, though he had excellent peripheral vision.

"So, me first, then." She tapped her pink lips with her finger. "Why haven't you been married?"

"I see these are going to be really personal." Ethan snorted, putting away the bread.

"Hey you want to know where I live, that's pretty personal."

"Says the girl begging old men to take her to their home."

"Hey, I never begged."

Ethan looked her dead in the eye and smiled, they both knew she did everything short of beg. Either she was really desperate, or that big of a slut. With how she was sitting, back arched, breasts out, and lip clenched between her white teeth, he was leaning towards the latter.

"Fine... just never had time, career got in the way and I never really had any interest."

"Hm... that's sad."

"I don't know if I see it that way. I lived my life, I enjoyed what I did, got to see a lot of the world." He shrugged, as he fiddled with a few of the drawers around the kitchen. He still was turned around with where he put everything in his new home.

"What did you do for work?"

"It's my turn now, missy." He paused for a moment, rubbing his muscular, tattooed arm and looked her in the eyes, closely. Tilly retracted in her posture some, uncomfortable with how he looked at her. It wasn't any sort of sexual glare, Tilly might have actually liked that. Instead, it was like he was reading her, scanning her soul. If he hadn't asked his question, she would have figured he could read her mind.

"Where do you live?" He pointedly asked.

"Okay, no fair, you can't just jump to that, you have to play the game!" She tossed up her arms, slapping the quartz counter with her palm, as she huffed and puffed about his breach of twenty-questions etiquette.

"Hey, you never made that rule."

"It was implied, mister."

"You're impossible." He shook his head, returning his attention to the groceries on the counter.

"I'm not gonna play if you are going to be like that." She hmphed, and sat back in the chair, shivering from the cold vent above her.

"Do you always get your way?"

"Actually no, I usually don't."

"That's surprising. You sure act like the path before you is laid out with yes-men."

"Usually, they say yes to me when I let them have what they want." Her eyes scanned him, admiring the structure of his back beneath his shirt.

"Well, I'm sure most men would... not me, though. You picked the wrong guy," he scoffed.

"What is it you want then?"

"Hey... I think it's still my turn." A few glass jars clinked together as he put them overhead.

"Hmmm, fine." She happily smiled, as he acquiesced to her rules.

Of course, Ethan was profiling her all along, waiting for the little things to reveal themselves. He would get what he wanted out of her, it was just a matter of when.

"What's your real name?" He paused to look at her, grinning knowingly.

The young girl looked astonished, caught off guard as he saw through one of her outermost layers.

"Wow... how did you know?"

"Hey that counts as your question."

"Fine... how did you know?"

"Intuition... plus Tilly is a rather casual name for a modern girl."

She didn't like how easily he claimed to have seen through her. But with no other choice she figured there was little point in resisting.

"Reese."

"Reese." Ethan nodded. "Reese...?"

"Is that your question?"

"Whatever."

"Smith."

"Oh common, Smith really? Might as well have told me your name is Jane."

"No, it is Reese."

"But is it Smith?"

"Nuh uh-uh. My turn."

Ethan audibly sighed, turning back to the groceries and damning himself for forgetting to pick up ketchup while he was there.

"So, what did you do for work before coming here?"

"I worked in the government," he said passively, as he hid his eyes from her.

"Common, that's so vague," she teased, but her eye caught something down the hall that interested her. She looked to her older friend, as he rifled through the fridge, stocking his groceries away. She assessed he was half paying attention.

"I traveled around, worked with some other countries, saw some people. Sort of like a diplomat, you could say. It was nothing super exciting, so I don't know if more than a vague answer is... any... help..."

Ethan's senses were certainly dulling. Tilly, or Reese as she was really called, had slipped away. He was alone in the kitchen, and her small frame made hardly a sound.

"Hey kid... where the fuck," he huffed, then his eyes turned to the right, and down the hall. There was one place he would fear her going.

Down the hall, and through a set of glass doors, she stood. It was a single room, his innermost sanctum, a place where only the objects of his past life resided. His office was much like the inner trappings of his mind, where he hid his true identity. Plaques, memorabilia, pictures of friends and comrades, and a large oak desk littered it. A person who stepped inside there knew much more about him than anyone who met him outright. His house was as much a facade as the personality he let show, all to hide this innermost room.

Tilly stood at the desk, holding a large black knife, a k-bar, in her small hands. It was huge compared to her size, much like the older broad-shouldered man that stood directly behind her. She admired the blade, reading the inscription "For the Others" written in golden Sharpie on the broadside of the blade.

"Big knife..." she said, following its every curve and edge with her eyes. She was smart enough to not run it along her fingers or skin. It would have clearly cut her right open.

Last thing Ethan needed was a girl bleeding on the new carpet.

Around the room, memorabilia from pictures of men in uniforms carrying guns, to maps of faraway countries, or pieces of shrapnel mounted on wood plaques hung. Images of bloodied men, burning buildings, and action on all fronts adorned the room. Clearly, Ethan's work in the government was a bit more exciting than he led on.

"I gutted a man with that knife once." He said it low, hoping to frighten her as she held it. Surprisingly, she didn't even stir, only a small tremble running up her back.

"Yeah? Tell me more." With a macabre interest, she turned to him, still clenching the knife. She was close enough she could bury it in Ethan's own gut. He would not even be fast enough to stop it. But that was not the intent in her eyes. There was something else there.

"It was in Kilimba, during the war. You remember the war there?"

"Nuh uh."

"Yeah, you wouldn't, I guess, you'd be just a baby. Well..." He questioned why he was feeling so open about this intimate memory. Yet a look into her striking eyes beckoned him on. "... the place was in the shits, I guess. I was with a special outfit trying to find the General Smokin' Jack..."

Tilly looked at him bemused.

"... Yeah, that was his name; he was a bit of a crazy man. We were told to meet up with a cohort of his who wanted to surrender, and take them to a secret site in a neighboring country. But when we got there... well, not all of them wanted to come quietly."

Tilly listened eagerly, her expression and body language enthralled, as she gripped the knife.

"One thing led to another... few of them came over quietly, the others, well... it was close quarters. Did what I had to."

"'The others' I take it?" She tapped the Sharpied saying.

"Yeah, those were the others... who didn't want to listen to words."

"Wow...."

"Nothing really wow about it. War and all isn't all fun."

"This is the first time I've heard you talk about something so passionately, though. It's like I can see through your walls... just like you can see through mine."

Ethan was speechless, looking dead in the girl's eyes knowing she was right. He couldn't remember the last person he had told that story, or any of his war stories. It was something he kept locked away.

Tilly soon turned the knife towards herself. While Ethan flinched thinking the worst, the tearing sound of fabric both relieved him, and scared him. The young girl sliced her tank-top, from strap to hem, neckline to waistline before setting the knife down and peeling the fabric away. Before him was a topless babe-- small breasts, without a bra, firmly holding their position on her body. Ironically, as firm as they held their shape, they looked so heavenly soft. Her nipples had just begun to stiffen, becoming hard little nubs in contrast to the buds previous. Placing the knife down, she stood with hands at her side, biting her lip and staring at Ethan as he stared at her.

"What are you doing?" He shook his head, unable to peel his eyes away from her.

"Just getting rid of another wall between me and you," she so suavely declared, walking past him and down the hall.

"Wait, where?" Ethan didn't even need to ask. She was going straight for his bedroom. She certainly was quick when she wanted to be. And before he could object and stop her, he was tripping over her discarded sweats and white panties in the hall.

When he entered his own bedroom, king-size bed neatly made and clean, he leaned against the doorframe. There on the bed, a nineteen-year-old girl crawled up on all fours, before splashing down into his comforter naked on her side. She made it a point to raise her leg, showing off her shaven teen pussy glistening in arousal. Unlike her previously lewd and suggestive face, she looked scared for a moment, but resolute in her actions.

"Why?"

"Really? Why?"

"Hey, it is my turn, isn't it?" Ethan walked closer to the bed, standing at the foot of it. He looked her over, sleek body with glistening white skin. Pink flesh in all the right places and a nimble demeanor to show off her lady bits proving just how mature she was.

Tilly smiled, realizing it was, indeed, his turn to ask a question. "You got me." She crawled, arm over arm, leg over leg towards the foot of the bed, her face just before his belt buckle as she stared at her distorted reflection in it.

"And?"

"Hmph... maybe I am just a big slut who likes older men. That's what you think, right? I am just a foolish girl?"

"Maybe, but it used to be my job to read people, and I have a feeling there is more to it than just a fetish."

"Could be... but I'm not in a storytelling mood right now."

"As I can see." He observed her stick out her tongue and breathe a hot breath, desiring that bulge that was outlined behind his pants. He couldn't hide it any longer, his desire betraying him.

"Do you want me?" She pushed herself up with her arms, breasts jiggling cutely atop her chest, as she smiled up at her friend.

"Hmmm, I've lost track of whose turn it is to ask questions." He coyly smiled.

"Then don't answer... just do." She receded, head down on her arms, staring at his pants as he took a moment to contemplate.​