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From: IJ Glenncannon <ijglenncannon@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Catch Me if You Can! (MF, older couple, het, slow, nosex, light frottage) I.J. Glenncannon
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Date: Tue, 10 Sep 2013 05:10:03 -0400
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Catch Me if You Can!
I.J. Glenncannon
---

I first saw Betty Franklin through the hormone clouded eyes of a
pubescent boy.

I now know she was only in her mid twenties, but at the time, she was
my every fantasy come to life. 

Blond hair, slender but not emaciated, and her tits were...  just
right.  

But, her ass was perfect.  

Even though it was hidden beneath the dresses she wore,  I knew that
if I could see it, my dick would explode without me touching it.

It was also obvious she was happily married, with children, and she
had no time for me, a boy who sometimes got to say hello when he
walked by her house on his way to school.

I didn't know how to describe what I felt for her, but I knew it
wasn't the uncaring lust my friends felt when we hid and talked about
who we'd like to fuck.  And yes, there were girls near my age that I
felt that lust for.

So, I hid what I felt for Betty, treasured it, and as so many people
are wont to say, 'got on with my life'.

* * *

As the years passed, I grew, and like everyone else my age did, I made
mistakes, did some things right, and in my middle teens, forgot about
Betty, focused on girls my own age, and my future.

I got laid often enough, eventually engaged to a girl who was a
transfer to our high school, and during the summer after we graduated,
we got married in one of the churches in our town, then we gathered
the few things we called our own, carefully stowed them in our cars,
and moved several states away.

We both found jobs, worked, played, generally enjoyed ourselves, and
one night, while we shared the afterglow, we spoke of other dreams,
now that we knew we could afford to reach for them.

About a year later, a girl joined us, and, because of our enthusiasm
and a desire that she not be alone, another daughter, then a couple of
sons, arrived.

All were healthy, and... active.

Too active, we sometimes thought!

Still, all of us survived those years, and eventually, as girls
usually do, they became young women.  The boys became young men, and
while they both had partners they were close to, neither one of them
had felt the need to get married.

With our experience, we helped them when they needed it, and otherwise
left them to grow on their own.

I suppose this is where a traditionalist would find a way to inject
something horrible, but in truth, there was no horror in our lives at
that time.  Our young women got married, settled into their marriages,
and my wife and I patiently stayed together and enjoyed our
semi-retirement.

Several years after the first grandchildren were born, one evening,
while we were strolling near our home, a strong wind came up, and an
old tree fell and pinned us both.

I came away with a broken leg and enough nerve damage I could no
longer get an erection, but my wife...

At least we knew she had died almost instantly.  When the tree fell,
the end of a branch that had been cut, hit her head as if it had aimed
for it.

Otherwise, her body was untouched.

I was in a daze, and remained so until long after we held the ceremony
and put her in the ground.

My children and their families did what they could, but it wasn't
enough.

I sold our home and ran.

Where did I run to?

Where else?

The town that we had grown up in.

Maybe, if I was lucky, I'd find some happy memories that wouldn't
remind me of my wife, and the years together that had been taken away
from us.

* * *

The streets of my old neighborhood were mostly the same, but wider and
elegantly landscaped, with long block walls next to the sidewalks. The
town was now a fair sized city, and that area had been redeveloped. It
was now an upscale area, with parks, schools and even a medium sized
mall not far from where the mom and pop store I remembered, had been.

I was retracing my walk to school, and in an older neighborhood I was
walking past a well maintained house, when something made me stop and
study it.

Then, the memories returned with a rush.

The Franklin place.

Maybe it was the room for rent sign, but I like to think it was the
memories and a desire to discover what had happened to Betty Franklin,
that caused me to change my path until I was able to lift, then drop
the old knocker, several times.

"I'm coming!  Give these old bones a chance to learn how to move
again!"

"No hurry!"

Eventually an older woman opened the door, and we studied each other
before I smiled and gestured.  "Two things, and I don't know which is
more important to me.  I recently sold almost everything and decided
to return to where I grew up.  So, I'm traveling pretty light.  The
things I treasure the most are either memories, or packed and in
storage until I figure out what to do next.  I can provide references,
and pay any security and cleaning deposits you ask for."

I sighed.  "A man's word used to be enough, but times have changed, so
if there is need, I can get copies of my medical records that show I
suffered some physical damage recently that left me...  not
uninterested, but physically incapable."

"Permanently?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"I'm familiar with the emotional problems, since Harold suffered the
same problem before he died."

"You are kind."

"Thank you.  The room is still available.  A long life has let me
learn how to read people, so if you wish, you may come in and see
where you might be living, then, if you wish to rest for a bit, and
indulge an old woman's desire to be old fashioned, we can settle at
the kitchen table while I fix us a light snack, at no charge to you."

I laughed.  "A desire, like my own, to remember better times?"

"Partly.  It will give us a chance to see if we want to finalize the
deal and become housemates."

"Accepted, and I will not press payment on you."

"You did mention you grew up here."  She offered me her hand.  "Do you
have a name I might recognize?"

Something in the way she moved made me freeze, and she noticed.
"What's wrong?"

"Huh?  Oh!  Sorry!"  I took her hand gently.  "Mark Johnson.  I think
my second question was just answered.  Are you *really* Betty
Franklin?!"

"I am.  Should I know you?"

"Probably not.  I used to walk past your house on the way to school.
Once in awhile, if I was lucky, you would be out and sending your own
kids off, but still have time to return my hello."

"Had reasons to remember me, did you?"

Maturity gave me some dignity when I chuckled.  "A few, and they
weren't the usual ones a pubescent boy has.  I made you part of my
fantasies sometimes, but they were fantasies that included a wife, not
a sex object.  Those, I saved for the girls near my own age."

She managed a smile, then laughed.  "Well, we are older now, and
probably wiser in the ways of the world.  Since you mentioned sending
my children off, and the only nearby school was a grade school, I must
have been recently married and in my middle twenties.  Our ages are
not so far apart, now.  Maybe ten years?"

I studied her carefully, then relaxed enough to sigh.  "I married my
high school sweetheart, we moved away, built our own lives, then had
two daughters, followed by two sons.  They are grown, and she lived
long enough to see the first of our grand kids.  We were enjoying an
evening walk together, a wind came up, then an old tree fell on us.  I
suffered a broken leg and the nerve damage, but...  at least her death
was quick.  The stump of a branch hit her head as if it aimed for it."

"So, Mark, you ran?"

"Yes.  Maybe, here, I can have happy memories that don't remind me of
her, and my wish that it had been both of us who were killed."

"Suicidal?"

"No.  A chance to make a mostly clean break before I turn outward
again."

"Honest, aren't you?  That alone tells me that even if you didn't grow
up here, you grew up in a place with similar values."

She let go of my hand after squeezing it gently.  "At least I had time
to come to terms with his impending death.  Come in, Mark, and unless
you change your mind, the room is yours, as long as you wish to stay
here.  The house priveleges we can sort out over that snack.  I will
not get upset if you decide to be idle.  I can afford a service, and
much of the gardening I do myself.  The bones are old, but they are
not as creaky as they could be.  If your walks are shorter ones, I
could be persuaded to join you.  Longer adventures would require me to
use my mobility cart."

She moved aside, and gestured without saying anything.

I looked back at the way I had come, then sighed.  "The pain pills
help, of course, but my leg could use the break before I head back to
where I parked my car.  Thank you, Betty."

* * *

She was patient when I stopped in the living room to look things over,
and said nothing when my eyebrows rose while I studied her mobility
cart.  Eventually I shrugged.  "As much as I'd like to see the room,
the kitchen would be a wiser choice for now.  My leg is starting to
insist that I take my weight off of it."

"Would the couch be better for you?"

"No.  I've found that the support given by a typical kitchen chair
removes more weight from my muscles so they can relax.  Thank you, for
offering, though."

"I hear more in your tones.  No offense was taken, because I am
familiar with the problem of finding ways to reduce the pain, when I
forget and over extend myself."

I settled so I could watch her, and eventually she looked up and
smiled.  "Your shock was obvious, you know."

"I can imagine.  Your mobility cart is...  not quite as conventional
as I expected."

She laughed.  "Several years ago, while I was on one of my usual
shopping trips with it, a group of kids asked me if I would give
lessons on how to use one.  A few admitted that they were hoping they
could use my obvious joy to help them persuade one or both of their
grandparents to get one so they could *be* grandparents more often."

"The...  decoration on it?"

She finished putting together our snacks, placed mine within easy
reach, then settled facing me.  "Kids!  I suppose I should also take
some of the blame for what happened next.  The lessons quickly evolved
into tests, then challenges.  Now, several times a year, a section of
the mall parking lot is roped off, cones are set up, and competitions
are held.  Since I happen to be the only woman in my age group right
now, the number one is easily explained.  The bicycle helmet with my
name on it is best described as one of those things that happened. The
helmet is a normal part of my riding gear.  The race car driver theme
is the inspiration of some art students who volunteered to make my
cart a little more...  personalized."

I nibbled, then chuckled.  "It sounds like your enthusiasm is
contagious.  I will admit I need that on a personal level.  I'd like
to see you in action, someday."

"Easy enough to do, since I need to do some shopping tomorrow.  Be
prepared for kids and adults to surround us almost as soon as we leave
the house."

"I will plan on bringing my cane with me.  As long as I am moving I
can go several blocks, and I have been working on improving that. When
I impulsively set off on my re-creation of my trip to school, my
memories insisted it was shorter than what it really is."

"Will you make it back to your car?"

"Yes.  There were plenty of benches I ignored, so now that I know,
I'll stop more often."  I touched my stretched out leg.  "The pain
isn't that bad any more.  The enforced idleness caused me to lose a
lot of the muscle tone I had developed over the years.  Therapy gave
me back a lot of it, but...  I suppose it is kindest to say that I am
not a patient man sometimes and I have been pushing myself so I can
get back the speed and distance I was used to."

She looked at her food and spoke softly.  "Denial, or a realistic
expectation?"

I sighed.  "Betty, if I don't push myself, I feel like I will be
letting my wife down.  She would not want me to use what happened as
an excuse to let myself get lazy.  We only walked a mile or so while
following different routes that started and ended at home, and the
pace was leisurely with plenty of breaks."

"As long as you don't over extend and strain something, I will not nag
you further."

That made me look up and smile.  "Nag?  My memories never tagged you
as such."

She blushed.  "Gentle concern.  I am not the woman I was, and if you
fall, I cannot help you up.  I also know my nature, and I will admit
the room is for rent not because I need the money."

It was my turn to duck my head and speak softly.  "Companionship?  If
so, I will be a poor one for awhile."

"I understand.  I also understand, from experience, that you would
become a better companion sooner, if you refuse to hide from the rest
of the world.  Those who know me will include you, once they know your
are staying here."

"Children, or adults?"

"Both.  Many are from families I've watched through several
generations.  Depending on the age of the one speaking, I can be
'Grannie Franklin' to 'Mama Franklin' to..."

When she stayed silent, I looked at her.  "I had my own names.  Some
were sillier than others."

She finally nodded and smiled a smile that suddenly reminded me of the
ones she'd given me when I dreamed about her.  "Yes.  I imagine you
did have some that left you...  feeling a little bemused.  My cheering
section at the competitions has named me 'Mobo-Grannie' and they take
pride in shouting it as loud as they can."

I managed to choke my laughter off, but enough escaped so we wound up
grinning at each other.  "Let me guess.  These 'races' have been
formalized enough that you have an announcer who calls them as they
happen?"

She sighed.  "It wasn't MY idea!  Kids!  Then parents started showing
up, along with other grandparents, and things just kept getting
sillier!"

She suddenly sobered.  "Sillier?"  

She turned and I followed her gaze until I realized she was looking at
a picture of a young man and woman.  I didn't have to ask, to
understand it was her and Harold, because the woman matched my
memories, perfectly."

"Betty?  Are you ok?"

"Silly.  So silly that once a year the 'Harold Franklin Memorial
Challenge' is held.  There are nominal entry fees than can be ignored.
Donations are made, and when it's over, a drawing is held and a brand
new mobility cart is given to someone who needs one but can't afford
to pay for it.  Used ones that have been contributed are also given
away, and the new owners can, if they wish, have them 'customized' at
no charge.  That gift is from the art and mechanical students at the
local high schools."

She sighed again and faced me.  "The words used before the first one
held were 'Mom?  Don't you dare stop us from doing what is right!  Dad
would come back and spank you, if you were that stupid!' "

"Were you tempted to be stupid?"

"Very, just to see if Harold would return to me.  But, eventually, I
was persuaded to not be selfish about it and 'go with the flow'."

"Any regrets?"

"Only that he isn't here to see it all, and be able to tell me 'I told
you so!' "

"I don't remember you as being that involved in the community, but
then I was the usual kid, and if I didn't see it happen in front of
me, it might as well have never happened."

She gestured.  "Big house, big yard, and I'm afraid we indulged our
children more than was wise, sometimes.  More often than not, their
friends wound up here instead of the other way around.  Eventually,
when they were old enough, we somehow became the 'safe house' that was
the one where all the parents agreed our kids could explore and seek
the kinds of advice that they didn't want to seek from their parents.
We never did figure out how that happened, but it made perfect sense
at the time, so we agreed to it."

"Should I expect to get asked?"

"I don't know.  You can expect a need to explain the reason you carry
a cane but don't use it all the time. After the first few times the
grapevine will get the word to any who are curious."

"So, I won't be able to hide unless I 'hide'."

"Big city, small town in this area."

"Not complaining, and it's been well over a year.  I'm almost ready to
let go and move on.  Mostly, I haven't figured out just how I should
go about getting a new life, that doesn't include my wife."

She surprised me by giggling.

"What was that for?"

"Women fantasize, too."

"So?"

She sobered.  "I want a man in my life again, one who lives with me,
and isn't a one might stand.  Oh, that came out wrong!  I want to feel
married.  I'm used to it, and I miss it.  Would you get upset if
sometimes I asked you to hold me like a husband would?"

"Hurting?"

"Yes."

"Couch?"

"Your leg up to it?"

"Doesn't matter, because I think the two of us can make it work. Worst
case, I can sit on the floor and stretch it out in front of me before
you get comfortable."

"Oh.  I should have seen it sooner.  You're hurting."

"A lot."

"I'll pick up later."

We moved to the living room, she had me settle and get as comfortable
as I could, then we found a way for her to snuggle into my side.

After that, we spoke when we felt like speaking, and about whatever
popped into our heads.

Finally, and I don't remember what triggered it, suddenly both of us
were weeping tears of release while we held on to each other.

* * *

It was getting dark when we stretched and returned to the real world.

"Will your car be safe where it is?"

I snorted.  "I parked in one of those pay to park places and told the
attendant I didn't know when I'd be back.  Since I knew I'd be gone
for several hours, I didn't have any choice about paying for an all
day permit.  It's good til tomorrow afternoon, but I would like to go
get it, so I have my travel gear with me."

"Room for a mobility cart?  It's easy to take apart and stow."

I looked, thought, then nodded slightly.  "Shouldn't be a problem."

"What about for me?"

"Passenger seat is mostly empty, and I can move stuff to the back
seat.  Take some repacking, but there's room for both of you."

"Good!  We don't have problems, but I have lights, and if I'm
escorting you, it's likely we'll have company for the trip."

"Safety in numbers?"

"Something like that.  People are used to my evening outings and I'm
late, so they'll be wondering where I am."

"Let me do the human stuff, and I'll be ready to go."

"I have the same problem.  The room is at the end of the hallway, on
the left.  It has its own bathroom.  Do your best to ignore the
feminine motif.  It belonged to our eldest daughter, and we never
redecorated, since it gets used by the granddaughters when they are
here."

"Should I worry?"

"No.  Plenty of other rooms for them to use if they show up."

* * *

By the time we reached the end of the first block, a kitten and puppy
were sharing the basket, a young boy was carefully driving her cart
and keeping at my side, and we were surrounded by a cheerful mixed
group of adults, teen and toddlers.

I gestured at the basket.  "Normal?"

She laughed.  "Yes.  You'll have plenty of chances for breaks when we
make 'pit stops' for a crew change."

I chuckled, then sobered enough to look around before I turned back.
"Thanks, Betty.  Those good memories I was looking for, aren't as
important to me, now."

Something in her eyes changed, but before she could say anything, one
of the female teens walking at her side giggled.  "Both of you have
the look.  I bet it was an interesting interview before he agreed to
rent the room, Grandma!"

She blushed, then spoke calmly.  "It wasn't that kind of interview.
Mark was hurting, and so was I.  I am late because we spent most of
the time snuggled on the couch while we... helped each other so we
weren't hurting as much."

"Good!  I hope I meet a man who can do that for me when I feel like
life really sucks!"

She turned to me.  "You got a last name?  Wouldn't sound right, if we
called you Grandpa Mark."

I studied her, then smiled.  "I won't get upset at being called a
grandpa.  I have several grand kids.  I'm Mark Johnson, but I know how
it works, so let me know what you come up with, so I know when someone
wants my attention."

Someone gasped, the crowd went silent, then someone took off at a run.

Eventually the girl returned, and she was carrying an ornate cane.  I
didn't bother asking who she was, I simply accepted the cane, then
carefully knelt and we wrapped each other up in hugs and cried.

Eventually she pushed gently to let me know she wanted some freedom,
so I loosened my grip and we studied each other. I spoke first.
"Hello, Edith.  Eventually, I was going to see all of you."

"Aunt Winnie said you sold the house and left.  Nobody knew where you
took off to.  We were...  worried, you know?  Nobody told me what
happened, only that you were pretty hurt, and...  and..."

She shook her head miserably, then grabbed me again.

I gently petted her hair and spoke softly.  "We were walking and a
tree fell on us.  It was quick, and everyone is pretty sure she never
felt anything."

"You sure?"

"Not completely, but she was still smiling at the joke I'd just told
her."

"That's ok, then."

Her mood switched, she touched the cane, and grinned at me.  "Tommy
measured your cane a few weeks ago.  Me and my friends got together
and designed it, then had the shop class make it, because everyone
said you'd need one for a long time.  Umm...  It's sort of a tradition
that Grandmas and Grandpas have something that's been made special for
them, and it has to be something they use, so it's with them almost
always.  We got...  reasons it has to be that way."

"Reasons?"

"Yeah.  Payback for the Franklins always telling us we should remember
to spend more time thinking about our future, than living in the past.
You going to help her make sure we do that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

She giggled and shook her head.  "Nope!"

I let her see my sigh, then I looked around before I spoke.  "It's
going to be awhile before I can do that and mean it.  Are you and your
friends up to helping me get there sooner?"

"Are you going to be able to get out every evening?"

"I'll do my best.  Sometimes my leg hurts pretty bad and the pain
pills aren't enough."

"Push too much?"

"Yes."

Her head tilted slightly while she thought about it.  She looked years
older when she finally nodded slightly.  "Yeah.  Good.  Lots better
than holding it in.  Where you guys headed?"

"To get my car."

"Grandma Franklin needed her cart?  Must be in one of those pay
places, right?  She can make it to most of the free ones that are
nearby."

"Plans, young lady?"

"Sorta."

She turned, looked for someone, then pointed imperiously at a boy. "Go
get it.  Now, 'cause you saw his limp as clear as I did."

"Gone!"

And he was, at a speed that said something was driving him to run his
fastest.

"It's going to take him awhile, so can you make it to the next bench?"

"Yes."

"Grannie Franklin?  How you getting your cart back?"

"We were going to take it apart and put it in his car."

"You be ok if we take it home and detail it for you?  It will be on
your porch in the morning, like always."

She looked around, sighed, then nodded.  "Mark's will be there, too?"

"Obvious, huh?"

"Very.  Mark isn't old enough to be in the same group I am.  As far as
I know, he wants to watch, not participate."

"This isn't that kind of surprise."

"We'll be shopping tomorrow, so you don't need to race prep either of
them."

"Ok.  Sorry.  You guys are ready to get moving, right?"

She looked down.  "If my driver is, I am."

He turned the key and made engine starting sounds before he looked
over his shoulder.  "Ready!"

"Mark?"

I was chuckling and I knew I had a grin when I spoke as calmly as I
could.  "Ready."

She grinned back, then looked around.  "Well?  Did anyone bring a
flag?"

A teen boy moved so we could see him, then he dropped his
handkerchief.  "Go!"

I planted the cane firmly, then we moved out at a very sedate walking
speed, while our crowd laughed and cheered.

I managed to mostly ignore the discussion that was taking place around
us, while everyone present searched for the right name to give me.

My concession to its presence was a sideways glance and a softly
spoken "Things got sillier?"

Betty grinned back, but said nothing.

* * *

I was grateful for the bench, and carefully settled.  Once I was
comfortable I smiled at Edith.  "I'm looking forward to..."

I stared past her.  "Edith?  Is there really a mobility cart
underneath all those...  accessories?"

"And it's perfectly legal to use it in the stores.  We made sure of
that when we added things."

I winced when a truck airhorn went off as it rapidly approached.  "I
hope it makes the usual polite beep most of the time?"

"Yes.  There's a key switch that disables all the custom stuff.  We're
not trying to insult you or anything, but you won't get the key for a
few weeks, until you've had a chance to get used to it before we check
you out on it."

"Fair enough, and thank you."

"Welcome.  See, what we found out is that nobody makes a neighborhood
electric vehicle for the mobility limited, so we decided to start our
own company, that modifies normal mobility carts.  That's kind of our
prototype and showoff cart.  The safety stuff will be standard on
whatever we modify.  We test it when we can be private, but we've been
waiting for the right person we can give it to, so they can really use
it and let us know what needs to change."

"So the showy stuff is a marketing thing, to get attention?"

"No.  We were hoping whoever winds up with it, will be as fun to be
around as Mobo Grannie.  You need it, but as soon as I knew you were
going to be here awhile, I knew it had to be you."

"Betty mentioned 'silly'.  Was the walk long enough for you folks to
figure out a name for me?"

"Yeah, and it was pretty obvious, once you let us distract you."

"Get it over with."

"Mark, 'Catch-me-if-you-can!' Johnson."

"No wonder my leg hurts."

Betty laughed with delight.  "My driver loved it!  He had to crank the
speed control all the way, to keep up with you!"

I relaxed awhile longer, then, when I felt like my leg would cooperate
with me again, I sighed.  "I suppose I will have to be garbed
properly, and video of the process will be made?"

Edith sighed.  "The safety stuff, for sure.  The rest of it is up to
you, but we'd like to get the video.  First real driver and all that
stuff.  Document any problems you have, too."

"Got it."  I used the cane to help me stand, then I leaned on it.
"Lets do it, and you can record it for posterity, and probably some
sort of viral history.  I suspect you will get lots of preorders, no
matter if the video goes viral or not."

"We already have the orders.  We had to improvise at first, but after
we put the videos of our crash testing the first one, and all the
changes we made until we felt this one would be real safe, online...
it was real weird."

"Oh?"

"Those stickers?  They're real, not fake.  So is the racing harness
and the head restraint system.  Real stuff that's been modified enough
to work with our roll cage.  The company is real, we got investors and
sponsors and all that stuff.  The test one is pretty beat up, now, but
it's been tested at a real safety lab, and..."  She suddenly hugged
me.  "It passed and the people who designed it were certified as a
*real* custom design team!"

I touched her lightly.  "A lot has happened since the last time we saw
each other.  Are you still part of it?"

She blushed.  "Umm...  I was going to surprise you guys but...  things
changed, and everyone said you needed some time to yourself."

"Thank them for understanding, if you see them before I do."

"Sure.  Well, it just sort of happened, but there wasn't really a vote
when it happened, just all of us getting together while some other
folks were around so they could see how serious we are."

"And?"

"I'm the CEO of 'Neighborhood Mobility Carts, Unlimited'."

"CEOs don't usually grin."

"They do when they are trying to close a deal with the man they want
as their first sponsored driver, 'Catch-me-if-you-can!'."

I looked at Betty and her grin.  "I think my backup driver should be a
woman.  I wonder if you can find one, on short notice, who is skilled
and easy to work with, plus used to the publicity already?"

Betty's grin vanished.  "Now, wait!  Not so fast..."

She sighed and looked around.  "This isn't silly any more.  It's
absurd!"

Edith turned.  "Granny goggles?  Nomex ball gown to match Mark's nomex
tuxedo?"

"I draw the line at 'Little Old Lady'!"

"No problem.  Too much to license it.  Some music majors are already
working on something suitable.  Fast paced, a real driving beat, that
sort of stuff.  Be easier to tailor it, if they know who it will be
for.  If it's you, we already have enough video of you in action, so
they can match the flow to your movements while you drive."

"Absurd just became insane, as in insanely logical and inevitable.
Lace curtains, for when I'm feeling casual?"

"If we can do it within all the safety requirements.  Will you accept
feminine and frilly in paint, if we can't do the real stuff?"

"I will, if."

"If?"

"I am a woman, and proud of that fact.  I will embrace that, on the
condition that any sponsor decals I carry, are from sponsors who
support ALL genders and sexualities.  Times are changing, and I am
changing with them.  One thing I have never been, was anything less
than a wife and mother who embraced all she knew, regardless of how
they see themselves."

Edith winced before she looked at me.  "Kev, and his complaints about
his friends who accepted him, being more afraid to come out, than he
was?

"Yeah."

She thought, sighed, then thought some more before she turned back to
Betty.  "Will you accept an openly LGBT pit crew?"

"Do you know some who can handle the pressure?"

"They're willing to find out, and I think they'll take the chance, if
it's for you."

Betty sighed and slumped before she looked at me and spoke softly.
"Give me that crew, and I don't care about the rest of it.  Do
whatever you think is right."

"Deal!  Give us about a month to get a cart built for you, and it will
be delivered by your new, and permanent, pit crew.  Later, we can get
together and sort out the messy details.  Until the official
announcement, our relationship will remain informal."

"You do that well, Edith.  Been practicing?"

"In a way.  Been watching a lot of real CEOs, and paying attention to
how they act in the movies.  Helps, to be able to learn from real
ones, in person."

"You have a deal, and your female driver.  Now, it has been a long day
for two of us, so lets find out how one of your drivers prepares
himself, before he...  drives one of your neighborhood mobility
carts."

* * *

We eventually got back, I hauled my essentials in, then we looked at
each other and started laughing hysterically.

She sobered first, sort of, and her posture shifted slightly.  "Mark?"

"It's obviously serious.  Go."

"Are you up to scrubbing an old woman's back during a shared shower?
I'm offering the same, in return."

"As a husband would?"

"I'd appreciate it, but impersonal would be fine."

"Don't be surprised or upset, if I lose myself and talk the same way I
did for my wife.  I might not do things the way you expect a man to."

"Memories are ok.  I've been told, by someone who remarried late in
life, that the sharing helped them accept what happened."

"Don't hold it in?  The grief counsellors told all of us that, but it
only helped me a little.  Nobody near my age who could relate on that
level."

"You didn't go outside your family, or attend any peer group support
meetings?"

I winced and shrugged.  "A few.  Sometimes the ages were close.  It
was like meeting aliens.  Nobody shared my values, so I stopped
going."

"Had to be more."

"They were...  I want to say too casual, but it wasn't that.  We were
encouraged to form temporary or longer lasting intimate relationships.
I couldn't go that far, because I never felt the emotional connection
was being returned."

"And, you have ED and didn't get an implant, or other help for it."

"Yeah.  The women were pretty clear about wanting all of it."

"I'm not seeking that type of friendship.  I won't give you a definite
no.  Only a not yet, if ever."

"I'll do what I can, Betty.  Back and anywhere else, even though the
only girls I ever helped bathe other than my wife, were my daughters,
until they were old enough to not want me present."

"A father who got involved?"

"Two daughters, less than a year apart?  Even if I'd wanted to keep my
distance, I would have wound up helping.  At least when our sons
arrived, we had them tamed enough my wife could handle them, while I
dealt with the boys."

"That reminds me.  That was an interesting conversation you didn't
have with Edith."

"I was wondering if anyone noticed.  Yeah, he seemed to know when he
was pretty young, so we did the usual evaluation stuff with a
reputable psychiatrist, and it turned out he was right.  Took some
study on our part, and his, but we accepted it and moved on.  He
needed that when he got older.  He had plenty of friends, and I'm sure
a few suspected by the time he hit high school.  When the pressure to
date got serious enough, and there were several girls chasing him, he
talked it over with us, and made the hard decision, to come out.

"Things got a little dicey at first, and he lost some friends he'd
known since before he was old enough to go to school, but he gained
more than he lost.  Some other gays and lesbians made him their
friend, and by his senior year he'd met the young man he's still with.
They look a lot like we did, when we were that age, so we felt they'd
eventually get married, after all the attention dies down and they
won't become instant celebrities by being amongst the first."

She sighed.  "We were fortunate, I guess.  All our kids and grand kids
are, as far as I know, adamantly het, but supportive.  Matter of fact,
one of the grand daughters recently got detention for putting her fist
in another girl's stomach for bullying a lesbian friend.  We're still
not sure how that's going to end.  Probably calm down fairly soon,
because the other girl was still holding the clump of hair she'd
pulled out after she snuck up on the friend, when the adults showed up
to find out what had happened.  Beth saw it happen, and when her
friend screamed, I guess she acted first and thought later.  Her only
words when she was being disciplined for fighting, were 'I don't like
bullies, and I'd do it again if she or anyone else deliberately hurts
someone.  Doesn't matter if it's a friend or not.  Some things aren't
right'."

"Sounds like the emotions were pretty intense.  Any gang type problems
because of it?"

"They were, and I don't know."

"Ok.  Natural curiosity.  Habit, too.  Raised our kids to do what was
right, so sometimes we got called in.  No fights, but by the time they
hit high school, they had some pretty good vocabularies and knew what
the words they used meant.  Hard to stay sober when your kid looks
innocent while they are insisting 'But Dad!  I didn't call them
anything they aren't!'

"We finally gave in and made them all carry smartphones with
dictionaries, so they could settle any arguments about what they
meant."

"Sounds like there's a lot more we can share when we aren't doing
other things."

She reached, started to take off her dress, then she smiled
mischievously.  "After the kids left, we turned into casual nudists
who kept robes in the handy spots in case company showed up.   These
days, everyone is trained to leave me alone unless I'm outside
somewhere."

I chuckled and stepped closer.  "So, seeing each other in our
underwear or nude, is inevitable.  I like it, because we were the same
way.  Let me help?"

She smiled.  "That was a little quick.  Do I get to know now, or
later?"

I started laughing.  "Now.  Even though I never saw it, I just *knew*
you had the perfect butt.  Pass up a chance to find out?  Not likely!"

She stared in shock, then lost it and started giggling.  "Well!"

She turned away from me.  "This is your final.  Prove how married you
were."

I reached, slowly drew the zipper down, then, while she moved enough
to help, I skinned her dress off of her until she was standing in a
pile of fabric.

I knelt, reached, worked her panties down, then casually kissed each
cheek before I gently lifted each foot enough I could work her
clothing out.

After that was over, I gently turned her around and offered her her
clothing.  "Here.  Should I do your bra the right way, or help you
slide it off?"

She shivered.  "Toss the clothing at the nearest chair.  Don't worry
about it, if you miss."

I did, and it all hit in the center and settled.

She smiled.  "Lots of practice.  Suddenly, I like that.  It means less
time spent figuring out how to pick things up without needing to crawl
to the nearest support so I can get up again."

"A good point, since the cast made things pretty awkward for awhile."

"I noticed your cane is also a reacher.  Those are pretty hard to
find."

"And I need to find a way to ask for a redesign so the one I'm
supposed to use is also a reacher.  Maybe they can get them certified
and market them.  Do you remember my question?"

"I do.  The right way, Mark, is, as you surely know, 'as if you
remember all those times we made passionate love together, and you
want to do it again'."

"Ah.  Forgive me for asking.  You *did* say you'd appreciate 'as a
husband would'."

"Forgiven,  Don't talk, do."

"Yes, Ma'am!"

I moved so I was behind her, then I wrapped her in a hug, with my
hands near her pubic area.  I pressed gently, then slowly slid them up
until I could unfasten her bra.  "Handy, having the hooks in the
front.  Gives me an excuse to savor that perfect butt the way it
should be appreciated."

I finished removing her bra, tossed it casually, then redid my hug and
held still.

She sighed. finally pressed backwards, and spoke dreamily.  "I missed
this more than I thought I did.  Maybe I didn't want to let myself
remember the feelings so clearly."

She moved again, and her movements spoke of need that went beyond a
male-female hug.  She slowed, sighed, then spoke a little sadly.  "Can
you forgive me my bluntness?  I felt your penis change, but it isn't
firm enough to be usable.  That's more use than Harold had, and we
found ways to make it usable, for limited amounts of time."

"Forgiven, because what you noticed is all I get.  I never expected to
use my penis as more than a convenient way to piss, so I never
searched for solutions to a problem that didn't need solving."

"There are erection aids that would let your erection be firm enough
to use, without a need to take them off to allow blood flow.  I am...
Something of an expert on the subject."

"I'll believe you, but...  if you aren't seeking, what is the reason
you wish to help me?"

"So you can be a man in your mind, again.  Just being able to have a
usable erection, will help you more than you probably think it would.
I assume everything else still works, so, to be somewhat impolite,
being able to have a full erection while you masturbate, will do a lot
to make you feel... desirable to the opposite sex.  Those women who
made it clear they desire a man who could fuck them, did your emotions
no favors, and I think it shows a lack of understanding on the part of
whoever was responsible for helping all of you."

I sighed and tightened my hug slightly.  "Truth, and one I was aware
of at the time.  Our generation is dying off, and with us, the old
fashioned ways are being forgotten."

She turned in my arms and pulled my head down for a kiss.

We held it, then she let go and smiled at me.  "Do you have the
strength to help me get back up, if I go to my knees while I undress
you?"

"Do you have a shower chair?"

She pulled away and grabbed one of my hands.  "I do, and am ashamed of
myself for not remembering it lets me sit at just the right height!
Let's go!"

* * *

The second time I got to savor the touch of Betty's perfect butt, it
was soapy.

Later, it was only wet.

Still later it was dry, and we were in her bed.

Officially, I rented the room and lived there.

Unofficially, I was a husband to her wife, and what happened in either
of our beds, and elsewhere in her home, was our business and nobody
else's.
-----

Author's Afterword:

This one started with a scene.

I had this image of a middle aged man with erectile dysfunction,
wearing only shorts, who was holding a slightly older woman so her
butt was against his crotch.  At the most, she was wearing panties and
a bra.

Some light frottage took place, then he made some sort of comment that
was sexual in nature.  There was some other stuff, but it wasn't as
important as the basic image.

It took some thought, to figure out a relationship that would get them
to that point.

What I came up with, was the opening to this story.

The rest was 'filling in the details'.

The working title for this one was 'Opposites Attract'.  I used it
because the characters are adamantly het and I wanted a way to focus
on that firmly accepted self-knowledge while I was writing.

After I finished the story, I looked for a better title, and found it
in the nickname that had been given to the man.

I'm releasing this one to the public domain, because I never intended
to take it further than I have.  Like it, hate it, if you think it
should change or be added to, feel free to make those changes and
additions.

Thank you for reading it, and this afterword.

I.J. Glenncannon,
September 9, 2013
====

End: Catch Me if You Can!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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