On the day of the blizzard, Alice was in the living room, as always, waiting for me. It took me a few minutes to shed the multiple layers of winter gear I’d been wearing in a vain attempt to shield myself from the latest storm. Putting all that stuff on and then taking it off again seemed to be the only exercise I’d been getting since October. Of course, the climate in Alice’s apartment was challenging in its own way. The volunteer coordinator had warned us that ‘older adults’ like to keep their homes warm. But warm is a subjective thing. The Sudan is warm. Ecuador is warm. This room felt like it was plugged directly into the sun.
‘Nice and toasty in here,’ I said to Alice, undoing the top button of my flan¬nel shirt. ‘Can you believe it? It’s snowing again.’
‘I can turn the heat up if you like,’ she replied.
‘Oh, no,’ I said, as a bead of sweat the size of a bottle cap trickled down my neck. This is just right.’
‘I made you some hot tea,’ she said.
‘It’s in the kitchen.’
I got the tea, grabbed the plate of vanil¬la wafers she’d set out, then went over to her desk and picked up the book I’d been reading to her. It was called Charlotte: A Historical Romance, and was set during the Civil War. Tempestuous relationships, divided loyalties, the fall of the traditional South, that sort of thing. Alice had written it herself when she was in her forties, and I can say without hesitation that it was the most awful thing I’d ever read. The writing was clumsy, the clichés mind-numbing and the story, if you could call it that, was so bogged down in useless detail that descriptions of table settings could go on for pages. It had never been published, of course. It was still in manuscript form, a small mountain of dogeared pages that I’d been chipping away at for two hours at a time, one afternoon a week. I never let on what I really thought of the book, naturally. Alice was proud of her accomplishment, and I did my best to read her lifeless prose back to her as though it were Gone With the Wind itself.

Still, two months into Charlotte and we’d only reached Fort Sumter — page six hundred, and nowhere close to the halfway point.
As she always did, Alice closed her eyes as I began to read:

‘The Mitchell house was itself a house divided. Not merely by the divisions that were separating everyone in the South during those terrible, warladen years, but divided by love and hate. Jeanette Mitchell and her husband James were no longer close. Some said they never had been. Certainly they never would be…’
I could never tell if Alice was simply listening, or watching each dreadful scene play itself out like a movie in her mind. A lot of the time I was sure she was asleep. But she had a way of waking up without warning, so I had to keep reading.

As the afternoon wore on, I slogged through page after hideous page about how ‘the filthy human vermin from the North were threatening to put to waste the elegant hopes of the South’. There were references to the ‘horrible cry of the deadly bullets’ and descriptions of the title character’s frequent couplings with what¬ever man happened to wander near the plantation estate where she lived alone. The book was full of these breathy inter¬ludes, but so far they’d all been rendered with the utmost discretion, and not a hint of sensuality.

But then I got to a scene where Char¬lotte was feverishly kissing a Confederate infantryman who’d gone AWOL from his regiment:

‘His tongue, so recently a stranger, came at her now with a feverishness that made her feel a wetness growing between her legs. He moved his kisses lower, bath¬ing her neck with his wet tongue, then tore open the front of her dress with ani¬mal passion. The rounded moons of her breasts hung sumptuously before him, and he descended upon them with fer¬vour. He sucked each breast fully into his mouth. Charlotte moaned as he tugged at the nipples and made them harden between his teeth…’

My voice cracked, but not from the punishing heat in Alice’s apartment. I felt a little uncomfortable reading such a thing aloud to an old woman, especially knowing she was the one who’d written it. But I had to admit, it was the first time in eight weeks that I’d had the slightest bit of interest in her book. I started the next paragraph:

‘He pulled off her undergarments, tossed them to the floor beside the bed and painted a trail down Charlotte’s body with his tongue — over her stomach, past her navel, and then lower, coming to rest at that place between her thighs, the home of a/I her forbidden desires. His tongue entered her, pried apart the lips of her womanhood like the petals of a rain-soaked flower. He plunged it in again and again. He pleasured her with the unchained ferocity of a wild beast. She pulled his head tightly against her sex. The undeniable fire of her passion swelled within her loins, reaching its peak once, twice, and then again. His tongue remained buried in her cleft, urging her to yet another release. He did not pull away until he was out of breath, his face sticky with Charlotte’s lusty nectar…’

I swallowed deeply as I finished the passage. My heart was beating rapidly, and I realised with some embarrassment that I was getting an erection. Alice was smiling, her eyes wide open now.

‘You read so nicely,’ she said. ‘Please, don’t stop.’
The book resumed its impossibly dull character for about ten pages. Then one of Charlotte’s cousins got wounded in battle. She went to the army hospital to be at his side, and there met a handsome young doctor. The passions of war quickly overtook them:

‘The little mom where he’d led her smelled of ether, but that wasn’t what was making her head spin. Dr Prescott had her in his arms, his lips pressed against hers with an avid hunger. His fingers had found. their way into Charlotte’s moist cave, and he moved them inside her like a spider flexing its arms. Charlotte writhed against his hand and unbuttoned his medical coat and trousers. His response to her was firm beyond dispute. She took the warm length of him in her hand and guided it to its destination. He penetrated her in a single thrust, her slick inner flesh like liquid silk against his turgid stalk. Charlotte bit her lip to keep from squealing as his mis¬sile found its mark over and over again…’

I heard my voice getting more and more revved up. To my dismay, my cock was plumped up like a balloon, and now it was starting to throb. Charlotte, mean¬while, soon found herself alone with one of the hired hands from a neighbouring plantation.

‘Charlotte slipped off her robe. She was gloriously nude, every inch of her body craving fulfilment. He had already been inside her three times that morn¬ing, but she wanted more. His thick shaft filled her in a way no one else’s ever had, and it had made her gluttonous. But Luke was more than ready to give her what she desired. He took her in his powerful hands, turned her around and told her to get on her hands and knees. It was the first time he had wanted her this way, and she did not deny him. He was strong from his years at the plough, and when he drove into her, his thick trunk as hot as a blacksmith’s tool, she lost all sense of time…’

I looked up at Alice. Her eyes were closed, but she was still smiling. I next came to a passage where Charlotte approached a muscular young freed slave named Moss:

‘She crawled over to him, her hair swaying like a mane. She took a strand of it in her hand and brushed it lightly against his penis, which had began to swell with the first signs of arousal. She slowly shook her head back and forth, her hair moving in waves over the stiffening shaft. Soon it was fully and powerfully erect, poking lewdly through the nest of her hair.

‘She wrapped both hands around the pulsing trunk, found it to her satisfaction and positioned herself on his lap. With her back to him, she located herself atop Moss’s mighty rod and, with a whimper of anticipation, began her descent down the rigid, ebony pole,..’

Alice’s eyes were still closed, but her head had dipped slightly forward. Had she fallen asleep? I took a chance and thumbed ahead to the next sex scene.

‘Captain Graves removed her right shoe. Charlotte was not in the habit of wearing stockings, and the sight of her naked foot both surprised and enticed the young officer. He stroked the top of it, running his fingertips along the smooth skin, then pressed his palm against the soft sole. Charlotte touched the side of his face with her toes. At the same time.

she kicked off her other shoe and rotated her foot against the Captain’s groin. She was hoping to feel him grow erect against her bare skin. But in fact he was already as solid as a length of oak…

Alice was definitely sleeping now. I jumped ahead again and found another steamy encounter on page 913:

‘After so many weeks of solitude, Charlotte was unable to hide her eager¬ness. The moment Robert lowered his pants she was on her knees, her mouth but an inch from his weapon. His masculine scent drew Charlotte even closer to the primordial sight. Finally she parted her lips, and he pressed his hard flesh against her tongue. She clamped her mouth tightly around the shaft and allowed him to feed her in this manner. “Quickly,” he urged. Charlotte’s tongue danced against his erect member for a moment, then she took it fully into her mouth once more. This was too much for any man to endure – even one as strong-willed as Robert — and he made his offering without another moment’s hesitation. Warm and milky-white, his seed filled her mouth. Long after she’d swallowed it, she would still taste him on her lips, her tongue…’

It was getting hard for me to sit com¬fortably. I had a huge erection, and it was, as Alice might’ve put it in her book, demanding release. By now I had a pretty vivid picture of Charlotte in my mind, and it was beginning to come to life. I could see us outside in the snow — my jeans down around my ankles, her petticoats bunched up around her waist — ‘pleas¬uring’ ourselves against a tree in Central Park as the steam rose from our bodies. Or maybe she’d be more comfortable in a nice Italian restaurant downtown, her hand moving up my thigh in devilish secrecy beneath the table, pulling down my zip and fishing out my hardening manhood.

Back in the real world, I could feel my stiff prick throbbing mercilessly. I was wondering whether I should just slip off to the bathroom and get it over with, when Alice stirred.

‘Did you stop reading?’ she asked.
‘Uh, no,’ I said. ‘I was just clearing my throat.’ I turned over a few pages of the manuscript and read the first thing that caught my eye:
‘Atlanta may have been burned to a cinder, but its fate was nothing compared to the fire that had consumed Charlotte. Had she ever known such wanton thirst? No — certainly never in the presence of another woman…’

This is a good part!’ Alice said, bring¬ing her hands together and giving her writing a little round of applause. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

‘Jeanette straddled Charlotte’s face,’ I read aloud, ‘and spread wide the entry-way to her desire. Charlotte took in the heady aroma of her friend’s femininity and instinctively stuck out her tongue. At first the tip of it merely grazed against the flesh ofJeanette’s soft, pink core. But then she began to lap at the moist labia. The taste of the war widow’s sweet dew filled her mouth, and it was enough to make Char¬lotte lose herself in her mission. In a fit of joyous hunger, she crammed her tongue into the narrow passage…’

Alice’s eyes were closed again. I real¬ised I’d been rubbing the manuscript against the lump in my pants. The pages were pretty worn as it was. I’d have to control myself if I was going to keep from tearing them to shreds.

Alice opened her eyes slowly. ‘Sorry, I keep drifting off,’ she said. ‘Listening to you read is so soothing.’
Soothing? 1 felt like Mount Saint Hel¬ens was about to come alive again \i\ my jeans. The only reasonable thing to do was get out of there before it blew. I’d already stayed longer than usual. But there were still a few hundred pages to go, and I was hooked.

‘Jeanette moved in a circular motion against Charlotte’s searching tongue,’ I continued. ‘Charlotte pulled her mouth away for a moment and coated the middle finger of her right hand with Jeanette’s hot juices. As she set her tongue back to its fevered task, she worked the wet, slippery finger into her lover’s most secret hole. Jeanette responded with rude assent, a guttural wail from deep within that told Charlotte she’d performed ably…’

I was interrupted by a sound coming from another room. The apartment door had opened. It was Kevin, Alice’s son-in-law. I’d met Kevin a couple of times. He was what is commonly referred to as a real arsehole — the sort of guy who lived from beer to beer and seemed to get all his ideas from talk radio. What bothered me most, though, was that he treated Alice like a house pet. If he showed her any respect at all, it was probably because when she died, he and his wife were going to have a big, cheap Manhat¬tan apartment all to themselves.

‘Ain’t you here kind of late?’ Kevin brayed from the hallway as he banged his boots against the wall.
‘Just finishing up,’ I said as I felt him walk into the room.
‘So how’s the old girl today?’ he asked. ‘You still reading that book to her? A masterpiece, ain’t it?’ he sneered.
‘It has its moments,’ I said.
‘Yeah, then how come no one ever published it? I know you’re just being polite, but don’t worry. She doesn’t hear half of what’s going on. Isn’t that right, Mom?’ he said loudly.
She gave him a look.
‘How about this weather?’ he barked. ‘I mean, fuck me up the arse with all this snow, you know what I’m saying?’
Alice lowered her eyes with embar¬rassment. I was feeling a little ashamed myself. Kevin and I were the same spe¬cies, after all.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘Emily will be home soon, so I think you two better wrap it up for today.’ He raised his voice again.
‘Mom, your little friend has to go now. Tell him you’ll see him next week.’
One good thing about Kevin. My hard-on was gone.
Out in the hall, I climbed back into my shirts, sweaters, boots, gloves and coat, then went back inside to say goodbye to Alice. She had the manuscript on her lap. Take this with you,’ she said. ‘You can finish it at home.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘We’ll finish it together next week.’
‘Yes, but maybe you want to read it alone,’ she said with a smile.
Had she seen me squirming in my seat a few minutes earlier? Spotted me rub¬bing the pages against the lump in my pants? I didn’t even want to think about it. I just took the manuscript and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘She’s giving you the book, huh?’ Kevin asked when he saw me holding the manuscript in my hands. He honoured himself with a belch. ‘Just remember, you sell that book for a million bucks, I want my cut. Finder’s fee, you know what I’m saying?’
As I put on my gloves, he said, ‘Just kidding, bro. Like anyone’s going to pay a penny for that piece of shit! The garbage cans are in the alley. Thanks for throwing it out for us. Saves me the trouble of having to go back out there in the snow.’

I would’ve trudged naked through a hailstorm rather than spend another sec¬ond with Kevin, so I reached for the door. Before I opened it I took one more look back at Alice. She looked very calm sitting there — still as an unlit candle. I guess you had to be if you were going to endure the Kevins of the world. I tightened the scarf around my neck, tucked her manu¬script under my parka, and headed back out into the falling snow. No two flakes are alike, they say. Except, perhaps, in the beauty of their silence.

Not being the fussy type I told her to go for it. She spat out her false teeth and went for it. I must admit she was good. Then it was time for me to shag this old cow, so I told her to lie down and I pulled her knickers off.

I was quite impressed with her ancient shaven haven until she told me she hadn’t grown pubic hair since 1967. But not one to shirk a challenge, I decided to go for it. After about five minutes on the job she came and her wig fell-off. I followed shortly after¬wards, wiped my cock on her curtains and quickly left.

I am thinking now that I am liking this granny fucking. It’s dirty and I reckon they are so desperate for cock they will shag anyone. I think I will go around there and ask her to get her friend around so I can shag the lot of them.

I could spunk all over there wrinkly faces and fuck their saggy asses. A big granny orgy is just what I need to give me a new lease of life. I think that is what I will do. I’ll go around there tomorrow and fuck the arse of the old girl and then when I have finished I will suggest the idea.