Sometimes events are just too funny to be true. Yet, there are things that happen that are so outlandish they can only be true. If you happen to witness any of these occurrences, you find it difficult to find anyone who will believe you.
So it is with this story you are about to read. If I had witnessed any of the following, I probably wouldn't believe them either. You might read this and come away with a whole new perspective about your grandparents.
Although I didn't know it at the time, it all started about two months ago. For those who didn't know, I work in Elderly Services. We provide assistance to the senior citizens in several surrounding communities. The agency I work for has about fifty employees who visit these sometimes forgotten folks. We provide such needs as bathing help, shopping, cleaning, companionship, preparing meals, etc.
I visit one gentleman, 85 years-old, who lives on the ninth floor of a building that serves as housing for senior citizens. I clean his kitchen, the bathroom, vacuum, sweep and mop his floors, make his bed and prepare a meal for him. He is a kindly likeable old man. I enjoy his company and am more than happy to help him.
One day while I was cleaning of his table, I came across a stack of correspondence and catalogs from Frederick's of Hollywood and Victoria's Secret. "You dirty old man," I said in jest to him. He laughed and pointed to his dresser. "Take a look in the bottom drawer," he said.
To my surprise it was nearly overflowing with sheer lacy sexy underwear of all colors and sizes. This was not a drawer full of his underwear, but women's' underthings. There were things I couldn't talk my wife into wearing, not even on our honeymoon. Indeed, there was stuff there I had never had the pleasure of seeing any female wear. Both out of curiosity and amusement, I help up several pieces of the "unmentionables." There were cupless bras and crotchless panties which had me looking back at him while shaking my head. When I was about to close the drawer, one article had me doing a double take. It was a pair of panties with what appeared to be a child's pacifier attached to the inside of the crotch. There was no doubt where the pacifier's business end went, but I had neither seen nor heard of such a thing before.
"The bulb has liquid in it," he offered. "There's a battery in the other end. It heats up and vibrates. The girls love it!" He was laughing. "Hold he phone. Hold it one minute!" I said. I know it's your business, but how would you know? What are you doing with all this stuff? Do you wear the stuff?"
I listened in disbelief as he explained that he had been ordering the stuff for years for several of the women in the building. It seems they were too embarrassed to order the items themselves. So he volunteered to do the ordering for them. He said that they eventually decided to keep them stored in his apartment, because the ladies didn't want their kids to discover them. I think I'd be full of questions too if I found stuff like this in my mother's effects. But it explained why he had them. It did not explain why little gray-haired women would want them. Did I really want to know?
"So when these old ladies want to dress up sexy," I suggested, "They knock on your door and say they want to use their "pacifier" panties or their undies with the cut-outs." I didn't want to think about their reasoning.
"Not exactly," he said. "They like to look sexy sometimes. They like to feel desirable. They want a man to look at them." I couldn't help but think, 'Who's going to find them ...Uh...Desirable? Most of them were widows. Do the ones with their husbands still alive, put on a show for them? And are those old men able to do anything other than watch. "By cracky, that's the prettiest wrinkled old ass I have ever seen! Shake that bootie for me, maw!"
He dropped another bomb on me! "I sit here in my chair and they wear them for me," he said matter of factly. "And I do find them sexy and desirable. I let them know it too." I really didn't want to ask, but what pleasure could that give an eighty-five year-old man? I began to wonder that if I were alive at eighty-five, would I find wrinkled and sagging female bodies ... desirable?
"Let me guess, Catalog Casanova," I said. "How do you keep these women from finding out about each other? What is it ... Monday is for Mary, Tuesday is Elizabeth's day, and so forth?" He grinned rather sheepishly, "They know about each other. They've been here two or three at a time!" He wasn't going to stop surprising me.
"Let me get this straight," I said. "You sometimes have three women parading around in front of you wearing next to nothing - see-throughs- cutouts - while you sit in that chair watching them?" I meant it as a joke when I added, "I suppose you are wearing a Spiderman outfit or something?" He laughed again, "Don't be preposterous! I have my elephant underwear on."
He must have anticipated my next question, for he stood up and dropped his pajama bottoms. There it was! Unbelievable! A gray thong with ears, and an elephant face with a trunk dangling. "I suspect one or two of them will be here around eight o:clock. Just had myself ready." I couldn't help it! In spite of myself, all that I had seen and heard hit me and I broke out into hearty laughter. He was unfazed as I was laughing. I acted like I didn't hear his next remark.
"The little darling dears try to see if they can get a rise out of the trunk. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't." the only thing I could think of to say was, "Oh my God, an honest to goodness "Octogenarian Orgy!"
That was two months ago, and except for honoring my promise to keep their secret, the subject had never come up again. Not until tonight, that is. Every Tuesday evening at about 4:30pm, I pay a visit to the old boy, and tonight was no exception. Because of security, I have to buzz his apartment and wait for him to release the door. Looking back, I didn't notice that the door clicked open almost immediately. He's a little slow and it usually takes him a minute or two to get to the door button. He must have been near the button when I buzzed. As I do every Tuesday, I rode the elevator to the ninth floor, walked the hall to his door, and let myself in through the unlocked apartment door. I set down my cleaning equipment and headed in the direction of the bedroom.
Disclaimer: What follows is graphic in nature and may be too sexually explicit for some. You may wish to stop reading now. If you are under the age of 18, you should log-off and go watch Buffy The Vampire Slayer reruns. If you have weak stomach you might want to go take so Maalox or Milk of Magnesia before continuing.
I stopped in my tracks. He was propped up against a pillow, half-laying, half-sitting. His mouth was full of only a small part of a very large breast, which was attached to a very naked elderly woman who was straddling his very naked lap. Articles of sheer lacy things were scattered on the floor beside his discarded elephant thong. I was very thankful that I hadn't eaten in four or five hours.
I do not subscribe to the practice of voyeurism, But if I were to, I certainly wouldn't have chosen this couple. I turned away thinking he must have wanted me to walk in and see them. Otherwise why would he have buzzed me in and then assume that uncompromising position? I called out with a loud "Hello," to announce my arrival. I also said that I would start working on the other side of the apartment. I guess it was only about five minutes before he came strutting out, proud as a peacock, wearing only his slippers and his elephant. I chuckled. I couldn't help it, but his appearance was so comical.
God bless him, I thought. I couldn't help but notice that the rise she had given his trunk was still in effect. I shook my head and continued cleaning the kitchen counter. If I was eighty-five at that moment, I might have been jealous. But I wasn't and I wasn't.
Next she came out, dressed, well almost dressed. As long as I breathe I don't think I could ever describe an eighty-ish woman in crotchless panties and a bra with cut outs! If I were to try now, I would have to add another disclaimer. I thought to myself, "Why the designers bothered to make that underwear sheer in the first place, I'll never know."
She showed no shame in being essentially naked in the presence of a strange man. She walked past me to get a drink from the refrigerator. One of her breasts, purposely I think, dragged against my chest as she returned from the refrigerator. I could almost swear that due to the contact, some more of her breast joined the nipple and was passing through the cut out. Yuck!
"Oh dear," I heard her say. "Your trunk is slipping." I watched her guide him, her hand pulling him by the trunk, back into the bedroom. The next thing I saw was the elephant thongs in flight from the bedroom.
When my time was up I yelled out, "Goodnight, Jumbo! See you next week. Have fun." I was out of there.
When I got home I decided not to mention my little adventure with my Lothario client and nice lady friend. When I found out what supper had been prepared, I suddenly didn't have much of an appetite. For some reason I couldn't get excited about Sloppy Joes!