The Blue Light: Part Twenty

~ beetleypete

This is the twentieth part of a fiction serial, in 765 words.

The man who liked to call himself Mark was in fact named Martin. And he wasn’t forty, he was fifty-one next birthday, in five weeks. Hard work at the local gym, and copious amounts of black hair dye, kept him looking presentable. Add a lot of money spent on cosmetic dentistry, and using old photos on his profile, and so far he was doing okay. He usually preferred the older section of the dating site.

Seventy-plus guaranteed success, and often came with financial rewards too. In his opinion, there was no fool like an old woman. Viagra helped of course, and he regularly gave thanks for the invention of that wonder drug. This latest one was a bit younger than his recent conquests, but he was sure he could live up to her expectations.

Although the pub was in walking distance at less than a mile, Emma didn’t do walking. And she didn’t drive to meet someone she had never met before, not even in a loan car. So she had booked a taxi for the short journey, asking them to arrive at her house at five-fifty sharp.

Martin allowed twice as much time as he needed to drive from Dorchester. He wanted to be there outside the pub, when she arrived. No lady should ever be expected to walk into a hostelry alone, he knew that. Touching up the sides of his hair with black dye, fretting slightly about how it was receding at a widow’s peak, he decided he would do, and made sure to slip the packet of little blue pills into his suit jacket before leaving.

Her taxi was a few minutes late, but Emma thought that was appropriate. Although she had never been on a date with a man, or so much as kissed one other than her father, she knew that women would be forgiven for not being on time. He was there when she arrived, standing outside but looking significantly older than his profile photos. Oh well, he was still younger than her, so he would do. The twelve red roses were too much though. She might have had no experience with men, but she knew that instictively. Nonetheless, she was gracious.

“Thank you, Mark. The flowers are lovely”.

In the bar, he seemed to know how it worked, so she followed his lead. Her white wine was handed to her with just the gentlest touch of his fingers. His eyes never left her face, seemingly ignoring her ample breasts, or her exposed knees in nylon stockings. After two drinks, he suggested a meal there. Emma was ready.

“Why don’t we just go back to my house? I had a sufficient lunch, and I am happy for us to continue this meeting in the comfort of my home”. Martin was greatly relieved. He had less than one hundred pounds in his bank account, and a meal at this place might have left him without enough to put petrol in his car later. Keeping up the facade, he appeared to be surprised, but grateful. “Dear lady, that would be my pleasure”.

His ten year old Peugeot car was less than impressive, but he remenbered to open the door for her to get in, and to make suggestive hand movements as he fastened her seat belt. On the short drive back to her house, Emma let loose with a prepared speech. “Mark, you don’t have to seduce me, I am already seduced. Let’s just get into my house and get on with it. Is that acceptable to you?” He swallowed hard, and nodded.

“More than acceptable, lovely lady”.

One hour later, and Martin was breathing hard, more thankful than ever for the Viagra. He had given her his full repertoire, but she showed no sign of being even remotely satisfied. “Is that it? I will go down and get us something to drink, and then we can start again”.

He had been given little time to scope out the house and the things in it, but the cursory appraisal of the size and location, along with substantial grounds outside, confirmed she was worth plenty. The house alone woud sell for not much change from a million, and it was packed with genuine antiques inside, from what he had seen so far. Resisting the urge to open a few drawers in the bedroom to see if they contained valuables, he waited for her to come back with the drinks.

This one was worth taking his time over. He was going to try the long-haul approach, make her fall in love with him.

36 thoughts on “The Blue Light: Part Twenty”

  6. (1) Like I always say, Viagra rises, but Niagara falls.
    (2) A warning to husbands who like to spend their weekend climbing mountains: Beware Widow’s Peak!
    (3) “Martin, you take the blue pill… the story continues, you wake up in Emma’s bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill… you stay in Dorchester, and I show you how deep the lonesome pit goes.”
    (4) Overheard:
    Emma: ““Thank you, Mark. The flowers are lovely!”
    Martin: “I bought them on sale at Flowers Я Us. Top quality Chinese silk!”
    (5) Martin’s eyes never left Emma’s face, seemingly ignoring her ample breasts. Instead he talked about his travels. “I swear, the Grand Tetons in Wyoming are a sight to behold. But why just look at them when there’s so much to explore? I’m telling you, when it comes to the virtues of exploration, I like to go deep into the heart of the matter.”
    (6) There was something strange about Martin Guerre. In the past, he’d always driven a Renault rather than a Peugeot. Was he really the man he claimed to be?
    (7) Martin was going to try the U-Haul approach. There were too many valuable antiques to put in his car.

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  7. (1) Like I always say, Viagra rises, but Niagara falls.
    (2) A warning to husbands who like to spend their weekend climbing mountains: Beware Widow’s Peak!
    (3) “Martin, you take the blue pill… the story continues, you wake up in Emma’s bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill… you stay in Dorchester, and I show you how deep the lonesome pit goes.”
    (4) Overheard:
    Emma: ““Thank you, Mark. The flowers are lovely!”
    Martin: “I bought them on sale at Flowers Я Us. Don’t you just love Chinese silk?”
    (5) Martin’s eyes never left Emma’s face, seemingly ignoring her ample breasts. Instead he talked about his travels. “I swear, the Grand Tetons in Wyoming are a sight to behold. But why just look at them when there’s so much to explore? I’m telling you, when it comes to the virtues of exploration, I like to go deep into the heart of the matter.”
    (6) There was something strange about Martin Guerre. In the past, he’d always driven a Renault rather than a Peugeot. Was he really the man he claimed to be?
    (7) Martin was going to try the U-Haul approach. There were too many valuable antiques to put in his car.

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    Reply

  11. I finally had a chance to read the whole series thus far. I love the premise. I haven’t read all the comments so I don’t know if many have already made the connection with the Red Light tanning for virility touted by the insane Tucker Carlson here. At any rate the red light fetish was definitely calling out for a blue light response. Very well done.

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    1. Thanks for catching up, which is really appreciated. I have heard of Tucker Carlson from American bloggers, but don’t know much about him. So he was not an inspiration for this serial. The truth of the blue light will be revealed soon, as there are not that many episodes remaining.
      Best wishes, Pete.

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      1. A firm that is no longer in business, K Mart, used a revolving light on pole to announce specials “Blue Light specials” I had wondered where all those blue lights had gone, but they are apparently not the inspiration for this story any more than the red light tanning of tucker Carlson.

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