After ***, she fell asleep and I laid there for some time thinking about all the collisions and coincidences that led me up to this point. She was a beautiful girl --blonde hair blue eyes, you know the deal-- She liked older men, she had said while we were speaking at the bar. That's when I knew it was a good thing. That's when I knew it was good that I had rented a motel room so close. Old men have baggage, the older you are the more **** you carry around like stones. Older you are, the more **** everyone else has to deal with; especially young beautiful girls at a dive bar off of the interstate hanging around old men. Especially the old men preying on younger women at a bar close to their motel room.
Girls who like older men are either too naive to know any better, or too desperate to give a ****.
I quietly got up walked toward the sink, avoiding carefully the clothes and wine glasses that lay all strewn about the room. --****** motel-- The ones that still have the old keys with that big hole where the key chain goes. The water pressure was terrible but I ran my face under the water. I thought maybe she must just be naive, she can't be anything past twenty or so, **** still perked and eager and her thighs still tight. Not for long, I would imagine, not with that inclination towards older men. That baggage will weigh it all down, down, down.
I wish I could have helped her. I wish I could have made her realize she doesn't much need the baggage. --But how do you expect a lion to tell an antelope not to get too close?-- You don't. So I turned off the faucet and laid back in the bed; just another old lion full with thoughts of the young, eager antelope and the shame of an empty victory.