Holly molly! I am so board this day’s that honestly “I could use something like that” I had a relationship like that with a family law attorney. The sad thing is he couldn’t make up his mind about us. Oh well!

**SIGH** :) makes me want to surprise my hubby in chicago!!! :)

OK where is chapter two. Don’t leave us hanging. I could read more…………..

Ladies, I hope you will pardon my intrusion ( by my sex I mean). Dahling, how utterly Fannie Hurst in it’s little “what a lovely incident” factor. The wise well worn woman so amused, yet intrigue by the affable young stud. Where’s the rest of it? Knowing you, I knew there wouldn’t be a moment when I’d have to look away. Yes brevity is the soul wit, but come on…

Yes. Barb you do - if you ever get the chance. Mine is 20 yrs younger and a wonderful delight - although he sometimes has a hard time keeping up with me!

My momas third husband was 20 years younger, her fourth is 13 years younger. She likes the young ones and they like her. I’d Love to read more of Ms. Dawsons adventure

Even in fiction it’s hard for women to take a great compliment. What is it about us sometimes!? Well, sounds like there could be an opportunity for more dialog with Room #552 if “she” forgets that age is but a number.

Flirting is so energizing! No matter your age, one should never lose the desire or the skill.

It reminds me of a 28 year old Greek God pursuing me with a vengence in West Hollywood and believe me, I’m the far side of 50. I beseeched him to get therapy but it was flattering as hell…and no, he was not gay.

aaahhhhhh!!! i want to hear the rest!!!

Ohmygosh……I am sweating….or maybe it is chills? For such a short story, the intense reaction is quite unusual. The writing style is sooooo good! This should made into a film. By the way, if it is autobiographical, I can only say that I can understand (from your photo) why a 44 year old would want you! It must happen all the time. Arouses just a bit of jealousy.

Beautiful! Except for the “you’d be disappointed” line.

Oh my Gosh! Please tell me she went inside her own room, freshened up, had a glass of wine from the mini bar, applied a bit of lipstick and knocked on his door!

Just let me know when this story gets published. I’ll be first in line.

Two years later….. He opened the door onto the columned foyer that led into the smart 19th century townhouse. High ceilings, sophisticated chintz, vases of Casablanca lilies. A serene Architectural Digest world. Nothing bad could ever happen here. She held her uneaten chocolate soufflé desert out in front of her. “You brought cake?” “Chocolate soufflé.” “Peace offering?” “Civility offering. May I come in?” “Please,” he said and opened the door wide. She handed him the plate and passed through into the salon. Papers and technology were spread on the sofa. He was dressed for a night in. Gray cashmere sweater. Gray slacks. Soft loafers. “Can I offer you something to drink?” “Can I watch you make it?” “Can’t stand to be away from me?” “Just want to make sure it’s not doctored.” “With?” “Who knows? A pinch of thallium would do the trick.” “It’s not like the woman I know to be paranoid.” “It’s not like you to be trustworthy, Mr. Man.” “You make the drinks, then. I’ll have scotch. There’s the bar. I’ll go eat my cake.” She poured two scotches. His neat, her’s two fingers with ice. They sat opposite each other, in matching doublewide brocade armchairs covered with fabric the color of a caution sign. The massive dark ocean of a coffee table was between them. He leaned forward on the edge of his seat, eating the soufflé from the plate on the table. “What’s this about?” He took a long drink of scotch while examining her. “You look quite beautiful, by the way.” “I don’t know how to say this to ensure it doesn’t sound like a threat.” He let the silver fork clatter onto the classic dinnerware. He turned his head slightly to one side, the way a cobra does before it strikes. “You’re here to threaten me” “I trusted you that I’d get a good return when I’ve never gotten any of it back. I’m OK with that. Making my new life is more important than a fight. I understand that I didn’t marry the romantic who pursued me but a pit-bull in a Saville Row suit.” He smirked. “Let’s cut to the chase.” He picked up his glass of scotch and drank half in one gulp. “All I want is to be left alone. But you’ve spied on me, you’ve humiliated me with pictures planted in the newspapers, and have gotten Veschi to sue me for $40 million plus punitive damages.” He glanced at his watch and shrugged. “So I’m no Boy Scout.” “What’s the point?” He sat forward like a shot and jabbed his finger at her. “The point is that you are still my wife. I have enough pressures at the moment without all this extra shit from you.” “That’s how you characterize my trying to reconstruct my life?” “Yeah. That’s what women really want, isn’t it? To band together, castrate men and rule the world.” “We plan to squeeze it in between Pilates and pedicures.” “I’m damned tired. Say what it is you came to say.” “I want you to cease and desist. I want you to leave me utterly alone and hope that you will find some woman who is more simpatico.” “And what if I say that isn’t going to happen?” “Then I’d say my percentage stake in your company is now strong enough to demand a work-out and effectively force you out.” He turned slightly to look at her with one eye. It looked huge, like a whale’s eye. And afraid, like all the CEO’s that enter a courtroom cocky and come out condemned. She knew he could finally see what he had done. His life was crashing down. “All I want is for it to be totally over. So I can start a new life. I want you to start a new life too.” He closed the eye. She inhaled then reached for her clutch on the table and removed cut sheets of thumbnail photos. She held these for a moment. He half-stood up and leaned over the table, his hand outstretched. “Well?” She passed him the photos of warehouses brimming with books that were never produced to be read, and never meant to go anywhere, along with associated financial records and other trails of documents. “A shell company for massive scale money laundering and fraud,” she said. “And evidence about your involvement with Veschi.” He studied the contact sheets, then tapped them in a sheaf on the table. He snarled and pounced like a beast going in for the kill. ***But the real mystery here is I can’t get the