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Unlikely Proposition

Who wouldn’t want to hear those words, I thought later?

She started off by telling me “You have lovely eyes.” I smiled and said “Thank you.” She then said that she bet that a lot of women had kissed my eyes romantically. Well, sure, I thought to myself, and they were tender kisses, laid down by velvety lips. Flash memories brought wonderful thoughts of encounters gone by.

I caught her looking at my butt when I was turned away from her and I flushed red.

With her smile still etched she said “You have a strong body for someone so thin.” I felt awkward but told her that I exercise a lot. Her eyes widened again and blurted “I’d like to see you with your shirt off.”  That stopped me short. She went further when she told me that she’d like to see me dance in front of her. This time it was my eyes that widened!

I gazed quickly at the picture of her that was in a thin, black frame on the wall. She was ‘a babe’ in that picture. Her trademark cover-story gleaming smile, her hair in a fashionable flip, a dip in the front of her dress that hinted at what lied beneath and a hem that was short, but even shorter due to a gust of wind that just happen to pass at the moment the picture was snapped and waved her dress slightly up and to her left. She was holding a sun hat, wide-brimmed and yellow that she held in front of her with both hands. Her petite figure was framed within the sun that was the background on the shoreline where she stood and it reminded me of a photo that might have been used to publicize a romance novel. Sweet, and very alluring.

She went for broke and whispered, just barely audible, “I want you in my bed.”

That was the line that shocked me. Although I’m not easily shaken, that pronouncement sent a shiver from my brain to my gut and caused me to involuntarily stand bolt upright. I heard what she said, but reeled with amazement at her bold verbal strokes. I felt the redness in my cheeks radiating heat down to my neck and became flustered.

Calmly she said “Come on, it will just be me and you having fun.”

I blinked, aghast at her words. I turned and walked away as I thinly smiled at her and said “Good night Mrs. Smith.”

Mrs. Smith is seventy-four years old and has progressing dementia.

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  1. 04/04/2011 at 6:51 PM

    Aw! My Mom works in a dementia ward and has so many stories like this. Some people might take offence or not know how to handle it, but when you understand the disease, stories like these are harmless and kind of heart warming. My grandmother had dementia in the years leading up to her death and we had some of the most honest and killer conversations. And I can’t say it enough – I love your writing!

  2. 04/04/2011 at 7:47 PM

    OMG! That is hilarious! I do love your writing though, too, to Brookie’s point…so good. Ever thought about writing a book?!

  3. 04/05/2011 at 12:34 AM

    Wow. I do not know how I would take this. Always so hard when they don’t truly know what they are saying or to whom they are saying it to. Such a young age too…

  4. 04/05/2011 at 2:11 PM

    Although I’m not an expert on dementia (and don’t really have much contact with it) from what I do know I’m positive that I’m scared as heck that it could happen to me. Or any of us.

    Thank you again for commenting on my writing. I’m always surprised at those types of comments because I really don’t see anything ‘above average’ about it. I just think that I connect the writing dots differently from others and to me, that’s not good writing, it’s simply weird. I’m always amazed that anyone comes here at all!

    A book?!?!? How kind of you. But I wonder who the heck with a solid brain stem would want to read my word spackle tossed on a page? And pay for it? Although I do have many megabytes on my C drive that could be loosely misjudged as a book, I doubt that anyone but myself would be amused. What’s that say about me?

    Where’s that starving literary agent?

  5. 04/06/2011 at 10:58 PM

    I got a nice little chuckle out of this, expecting there must be a punchline waiting. Nice “build up.”

    As for Mrs. Smith, dementia aside, I say more power to her (though sorry you were embarrassed). We do seem to be shocked at the thought that those whose skin is no longer taut and dewy might have a sexual thought.

    Trust me. One of the pleasures of maturing a bit is realizing that sexuality is not evaporating. (But women of a certain age need to find men who recognize and appreciate it.)

    Enjoyed the post! 😉

    • 04/08/2011 at 3:08 PM

      I’m sorry, but for some reason your comment ended up as Spam. I apologize.

      I do realize that reaching a certain maturity does not mean plugging up all the sexual desires. I was just so embarrassed at her choice of words to express it.

      And that glare … so deep.

      Thanks for stopping by, good to see you!

  6. 04/07/2011 at 8:48 PM

    I’m in agreement – awesome writing here. It read like a snippet from a really good novel.

    • 04/08/2011 at 2:59 PM

      Thank you Jane, that’s really very gracious of you. And for stopping by, thank you again!

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