I was a little disappointed that she didn’t call me the next days even though I’ve left my phone number on the table, where we had the three glasses of her favorite cordial. So much the more it was a pleasant surprise for me to receive her call the other day. We had a light-hearted flirtatious chat and she has told me, that her foot was a lot better, now that she wasn’t straining it any more. I’ve copied her phone-number into my contact-list and called her back two days later. I must say that, to my own surprise, I’ve fancied her with her bright eyes and frail physique, which in a novel way appealed to me.

She seemed pleasantly surprised about my call and we agreed to meet on Sunday in a cozy open-air caf in a public botanical garden.

—---------------------------------

Sunday was the day. I was looking forward to our rendez-vous and as always, when I’m looking forward to something, I was there much too early. I was just about to stroll around for a little while until the agreed time, I saw, to my delight, that I was not the only one to be early: She came walking towards the caf, smiling, without walker, just using a stick as a walking aid. She wore a light sundress waving in the summer breeze.

„You look wonderful today.“ I said, without lying. I kissed her hand that she reached me and gave her my sweetest loving smile. Her countenance became a little more serious:

„Before we sit down and have coffee, I would like to tell you something. I’ve had almost two weeks time to think about what happened just before you left my home. As a result I would like you to know, that...“

Oh my God! Now she was about tell me „..., that this kiss was only due to my fatigue and the three glasses of liquor. It will never happen again!“ or „..., that I apologize for having tolerated this, but I was so surprised, that I couldn’t even fend you off on time!“ or „..., that I only came here to tell you that I found your kiss cheeky and most preposterous and that I will never see you again!“

I was devastated. Instead she said:

„..., that I haven’t got such a tender kiss in the last fourty years and I really enjoyed it so much, that I was dazzled the whole evening and couldn’t find clear thoughts. I wish, we could repeat that - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - and very often!“

My gloomy mood, that I had developed in anticipation of her expected words turned in a millisecond into the brightest possible bliss. She had blushed telling me that, and I couldn’t help holding these blushed cheeks with both of my hands and kissed again tenderly her lips without wasting a single thought, what the other people in the nearby caf might think.

She obviously has come to a decision, a decision so difficult and crucial as it can possibly be: She has decided to trust me. There is nothing in the world that a lady, especially an elderly lady, detests more and is so painful as being ridiculed or/and being dumped after use.

We took seat at one of the tables and enjoyed some treats from the confectionary, while we were talking about everyday items and neglectable things. In reality, we were caressing each other with our eyes and our looks.

After our coffee, we took a short walk through the botanical garden, short because her foot still wasn’t robust enough for longer endeavours. We had a look at the beautiful displays in the orchid exhibition and walked slowly towards the colourful tulip patches that reminded us of the Keukenhof in Holland. When we stood there admiring the arrangements, I softly took her hand in mine and we both smiled absorbed in thoughts.

When we went on, I kept her hand and she returned my tenderly carressing her fingers with my thumb with a hardly discernible pressure of her hand. Of course, we were not the only visitors in the garden, and quite frequently we met oncoming visitors, couples, groups, families, all looking at us with the same looks that expressed two thoughts:

First: Aaaahhhwww, what a sweet picture. Mother and son walking hand in hand.

Second: No! - - Impossible! - - That’s unnatural! - - That’s shocking! - - That’s perverse! - - How could she possibly...? - - How could he possibly.. .? - - How could they possibly.. .?

I was fifty, but being estimated mostly a little younger, like in the second half of my fourties. I’m by no means a beauty, but not fat, not bald, not short I think I’m still quite presentable.

As the first group of oncoming people approached, she tried shyly to pull back her hand from mine, but I didn‘t let her go. She blushed and looked aside into the flower displays, not to meet the eyes of the people. After the passers-by have passed by, I asked her:

„Are you ashamed of me?“

„Nooooo! I just wanted to spare you the impression the people might have, that you could have an affair with an old bat like me.“

„You are no way an old bat. I’d rather wish you were my sex-toy!“

Before she could revolt against my saucy remark, I kissed her lips, kissed them long, tenderly, lovingly and in a manner, in that no son in the world would kiss his mother. After the kiss, she laid her arms around my neck and drew my head back to her mouth and kissed me again.

She wanted more. I wanted more. The bystanders wanted more.

She got more. I got more. The bystanders got more.

The bystanders got more to report to their families and friends when they came home: „Imagine what we saw in the botanical garden...“

I got more of these wonderful kisses on her suddenly youthful lips soaked with blood and effervescence.

She got more of the taste of adventure and passion, she was longing for all these years. And she got more of the warm sincerety and knowledge that I was at her command and stood by her.