Fourty Eight

I felt like I had been slapped in the face. I blinked, trying to get my mind to catch up with his words, stunned by his rejection. Too old? Me? I expected him to be eager to take what I was offering, prepared for the old, sweaty brute of a man to throw me down on the bed and do whatever it was he wanted to do with my body. Instead, he humiliated me by calling me old!

Who was he to call me old??? He was a dirty, disgusting old man!

“How dare you call me old? I may not be what I once was, but have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re hardly model material!”

Mr Clinton shook his head, clearly unimpressed.

"Yes, but I’m not the one throwing myself at someone, begging them for sex because I can’t get any other way! You've wasted my time."

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I stood frozen in place as I stared at the door. I could hardly believe what had just happened. I was rejected? By that wrinkled old man? An old man like hi