Sexual people notice each other. We recognize and acknowledge each other across the boundaries of society, despite differences in religion, color, ethnicity, language, age, and class. It's one of the things that makes us so dangerous, and so feared by those who like to keep the world in tidy, orderly, easily controlled boxes.

I was out at dinner with my family the other night, my wife, my kids, and my mother-in-law, when I noticed the woman at the next table, and she noticed me. She was older than me, mid-forties maybe, in decent shape for her age, with very large breasts, a slightly thickening waist, a round face, squared off a bit at the cheek and jaw, framed with thick shoulder-length dark hair and punctuated with deep dark eyes that started back at me with extreme intensity.

It was the eyes that did it for me. Well, the eyes and the breasts, because I had a very strong urge to bury my head between them. I smiled at the thought, sitting there next to my wife with my kids and my mother-in-law, smiled at the thought of taking this strange woman's nipples into my mouth and hands, sucking, licking, pinching, and flicking. I smiled. And she smiled back.

It was fleeting, but promising. She was paying more attention to her dinner companion than she was to me, but still she kept on checking on me and every time she checked, there I sat, smiling at her.

Finally I rose, excused myself, moved in the general direction of the restrooms, checking back over my shoulder to see if she was following or my wife was watching, which she wasn't because she never does.

The restaurant is in our apartment complex, next to a barbershop, a grocery store, a consignment shop, and a drugstore. The shared restrooms for all of them are out in the hall, away from the prying eyes of our dinner companions.

She did not follow, so I ducked in to the men's room for a moment to relieve myself. She was not there when I emerged either. So I counted to a hundred.

I was at seventy-three and starting to figure I'd misjudged her when the door from the restaurant to the hall opened.

She just stood there, half in, half out, half decided, eyeing me up and down. I turned and walked toward the elevators. She followed.

I pulled out my cell phone and called my wife. "Hey honey I got an emergency call from work. I'm just popping up to the apartment for a second to get something off the computer. I'll be right back."

"That's fine, honey" she said, "the kids are still eating and Mom and I are just talking."

When I stepped on to the elevator I turned to see if the other woman was following, my hand on the "open" button just in case, but she was right beside me, facing outward, respectably, as the doors closed and then turning to face me, gazing up with those deep dark eyes.

I lowered my head and our lips met as the elevator sped upward.

There is no preamble as we exit the elevator, enter the apartment, backed up against the door, kissing wetly, breathing heavily, undoing each other's belts and pants, pulling them down and then she is turning in my arms her ass pressed back against my cock, grinding back against me as I reach around helping her raise her sweater and separate her front clasp bra, her breasts swinging heavily, the nipples already hard and harder under my palms.

My initial urge is to fuck her on all fours in the middle of our bed, but I want to watch her as I fuck her and my wife eschews mirrors in the bedroom so I guide her instead to my wife's walk in closet, and the full length mirror on the back of the door, pushing her down in front of me, sinking to my knees behind her, entering her, thrilling in that first moment of entering her, of entering a new woman for the first time, drinking her in with my eyes, her primitive and lewd abandonment, bra open, blouse undone, pants (there were no underpants) around one ankle, breasts heavy and swaying, hair dark, eyes dark and staring back as I move, in and out, the familiar sway and collision of hip to hip that is constant with all women, with all fucks, from the dawn of time, for that is how this one makes me think, of cave men and cave women driven by lust and unencumbered by rules, reveling in the swing and sway and collision of hip, slowly as we find our groove and then faster as we revel in it, as we abandon ourselves, as we grunt and growl and groan and leer at each other to the climax we know will come, riding out the wave and then, just for the sheer primitive hell of it because my cock is still hard and I can, forcing her to two more before we dress and hug and kiss deeply and return one at a time to our dinner companions.