The 60-Year-Old Woman Who Made Me Forget My Wife

It had been a while since I’d told anything around here. This time I want to get straight to what happened to me with a woman who pulled me out of my routine and made me forget, for an entire night, that someone was waiting for me at home.

I worked as a night delivery driver for a distributor that supplied twelve convenience stores in the north side of the city. The route was long and monotonous, and the only way not to go crazy between stops was to get along with the night-shift employees. I did. With my wife Carla at home, asleep since eleven alongside the twins, my head had way too much free time inside the van.

At one of those stores, the one at the intersection of the avenue and 12th Street, Marisol worked. Dark-haired, quiet, pleasant but proper. She’d been trying for months to loosen up with me and nothing. One night I arrived with the form in my hand, expecting to greet her, and found they’d replaced her.

In her place was an older woman, short, very fair-skinned, with black hair down to her shoulders. I figured she was around sixty, though I made damn sure not to ask.

“Adela,” she said, offering me her hand. “I’m from the downtown branch.”

I shook her hand with the courtesy you give an unknown lady and started unloading the boxes. But while I was filling out the form, I kept stealing glances at her. She had wide hips the loose uniform couldn’t hide, and every time she bent over the counter her robe would open and show the real size of the breasts she was carrying. She was the kind of woman who didn’t need to be hot by young standards to get attention. She had something more: a way of staying still when she realized you were looking at her.

That first night I did my job, signed the form, and left with a handshake. But when I got back in the van, before starting the engine, I sat there for a minute. I was thinking about my wife, the twins, the car payment. I was thinking about Adela.

***

On my third shift I went back to the same store and she was there again. Marisol had been absent; I didn’t know why. The lady asked me if I could show her how to use the scan system, because the new substitute didn’t know either. I told her no problem.

She was wearing a straight skirt to the knee and a dark blouse that hinted at her cleavage without showing it. The robe, as always, unbuttoned. I went behind the counter and stood beside her. I showed her the codes, the keyboard shortcuts, the order of the batches. I spoke slowly, pretending to be patient, but the truth was I was calculating every movement. She smelled like a warm, sweet perfume, the kind that clings to your clothes for hours afterward.

When I leaned in to point out a field on the screen, my elbow brushed the side of her breast. It was a calculated brush, but discreet. She moved away only a couple of centimeters and kept looking at the screen. The second time, she didn’t move.

I kept explaining, pretending nothing had happened, while inside I realized I was hard and the uniform shirt wasn’t going to hide much if I backed away at that moment.

We finished entering the codes. I arranged the product on the shelves I was in charge of. When I was about to leave, Adela called to me from the back of the store.

“Will you help me with a box?” she said. “It’s at the counter and I can’t manage it.”

It was a box of cigarettes; it couldn’t have weighed more than five kilos. I took it and followed her to the back storeroom. It was a narrow room, with two shelves up to the ceiling and a white light that flickered. I set the box down where she indicated, and when I straightened up, she had already bent down to push it into the corner.

The straight skirt clung to her body. She had the roundest ass I’d seen in a long time. And when she turned her head over her shoulder and caught my eyes, she didn’t straighten up right away. She looked at me for a second, slowly stood up, and as she did, adjusted her blouse with a gesture that revealed, almost by accident, the white lace of the bra underneath. They were two huge breasts topped by nipples outlined through the semi-transparent fabric.

“Thanks,” she said, and touched my hand a second too long.

I left the store with my pulse racing. I drove to the next stop with one thought in my head.

***

The following visits began to be different. Adela was waiting for me with coffee and cookies she brought from home herself. She started greeting me with a kiss on the cheek and, when I left, she did the same. At first, I returned a dry, polite kiss. But since she never pulled her face away, one night I kissed near the corner of her mouth. I heard her let out a tiny sigh, a sound that slipped out of her. Another night I brushed her earlobe with my lips. The sigh came again, longer.

At home, Carla was still asleep when I got in at seven in the morning. I took a shower, kissed her forehead, and lay down beside her thinking about someone else. I knew perfectly well what I was doing. I knew damn well I wasn’t going to stop.

One Friday I arrived at the store with my excuse ready.

“Adela, I’m going to miss you. I’m leaving on vacation for two weeks.”

“You’re leaving?” she said, and disappointment showed in her voice.

I explained that my substitute already knew the route, that I wouldn’t have any problems. I moved closer to hug her, the way you hug a friend who’s staying behind. But it wasn’t a friend’s hug. I smelled her neck, brushed her earlobe with my lips, and then she lifted her face and kissed me on the mouth.

She was the one who opened her lips first. Her tongue found mine and the kiss stretched until our breathing tangled. While I was kissing her, I slid my hand down to her ass and squeezed it. I gave it two gentle slaps. She sighed against my mouth and didn’t pull away.

“Let’s go to the storeroom,” I told her.

She nodded without looking at me.

***

I closed the door with the bolt. Adela stayed with her back against the shelves, waiting. I took off her robe, lifted her blouse, and unclasped her bra with a movement I’d learned at twenty. The breasts fell heavy, hot against my hands. They were huge, soft, with nipples already hard before I touched them. I bent my head and took them into my mouth one by one. She braced herself against the shelf and let her head fall back.

“No one’s done this in a long time,” she told me softly.

I didn’t ask how long was a long time. I knelt down. I lifted her skirt to her waist. She was wearing flesh-colored pantyhose and underneath a thong already wet in the center. I bit over the fabric and heard her stifle a moan. I pulled down the pantyhose and thong together, slowly, to her ankles.

I smelled her. She smelled of perfume and something else, something warm that you only smell when the other person truly wants it. I spread her with my fingers and licked her from bottom to top. Adela gripped the metal shelf with both hands. I pushed two fingers inside without warning. They went in without resistance.

I slid my other hand up the inner side of her thigh, stroked her ass, and when I felt her relax, I slowly sank my thumb in. She let out a different moan, deeper.

“Fuck me,” she said through her teeth.

I answered by licking her harder, setting the rhythm with my tongue. I felt her trembling against my face, and a long orgasm shook her legs. She had to lean on my head so she wouldn’t fall completely.

I lifted her, turned her around, and bent her against the shelves. I pulled down my pants. I was so hard it hurt. I went in with one thrust. I heard her bite back a cry so as not to alert anyone on the street.

“I’m your bitch,” she said, gripping the shelf. “Tonight I’m yours.”

I took her like that for a long while, both hands on her hips, watching the reflection of her body in the dusty mirror against the back wall. Then I made her kneel on the floor, on the robe I’d taken off her, and bent her over again. I spat on her ass, lubed myself with her saliva and with what she herself had released between her legs.

I pushed in slowly. She stayed still until her body got used to it. Then she started pushing back, on her own, setting the rhythm. I gave her ass two slaps and the skin stayed marked for a few seconds.

I held on as long as I could. When I knew I couldn’t hold back any longer, I came inside her, biting her shoulder so I wouldn’t shout. I pulled out my cock, still hard, passed it over to the other side, and shoved it into her pussy. Three thrusts were enough for her to come again, this time with a dull cry against her forearm.

I collapsed on the floor beside her. I held her from behind, ran my hand along her side, and fixed the hair that had stuck to her forehead. Neither of us said anything for a while. You could hear the freezer humming in the store and, outside, a car passing very slowly along the avenue.

“Will you come back when you’re done with vacation?” she asked me at last.

I told her yes. It was half a lie. I didn’t know if I’d go back to that route. I didn’t know if I’d be able to look Carla in the face for those two weeks without still smelling Adela on my skin.

I finished the route at seven in the morning. I got home and stayed in the shower for a long time. Carla got out of bed, made me coffee, and asked how the night had been.

“Quiet,” I told her. “Same as always.”

She laughed and kissed my forehead. I kissed her back thinking about the storeroom at the intersection store, and about a sixty-year-old woman who would be waiting for me starting the following Monday, after vacation, with the white light flickering over her head.