I recently attended an alumni reunion. I had a grand time, reliving old high school and college memories with friends, sharing a beer, the occasional weed through rolled paper or pipe. And I realized that, while age and children have taken their toll on a few college beauties, there were a great number of them who still looked hot.

One of them was a gal named Janine. She is now a single mother with a daughter in her teens. Age has been kind to Janine. Her eyes had sunk a bit, wrinkles were evident, and her cheeks were slightly gaunt. But there was still color in her gaze. And her lips were still full and petulant. And her skin was still pearly clear. She was still slim though she had a bit of paunch on the sides of her waist and her hips were a bit wider than when she was younger, but she was no means obese or pear-shaped.

We ended up having coffee at after the reunion bash, where we reminisced about your days long past and how we arrived at our current state. The reasons for her being a single mother are vague. I purposely did not pry as it seemed to be a sensitive matter. There apparently was some abuse. And there is some restraining order. But she loves her daughter with a passion.

We left the coffee shop at about 3 am. And no, we did not have sex after.

But we did meet up again for lunch a few days later. And yes we did end up in a motel afterward.

The conversation prior to the romp was straight-forward. I admitted having a crush on her when I was younger and I praised her appearance. “You look good,” I said. We had red wine that day, which I insisted to be poured in a decanter. I guess the alcohol loosened our inhibitions because the topic gravitated to sex. I think the way it started was when I commented that sex and virginity were such a much ballyhooed topic in our college days, which she readily agreed. She admitted being uptight then.

“And look what it got me into,” she laughed.

So I flirted. We toasted our wine goblets. “To sex,” I said. “May we have more of that.”

We traded experiences. We exchanged tales of wanton abandon, of recklessness, and of disastrous encounters. We talked about female orgasms, about fellatio and cunnilingus, about the advantages of length, of long-lasting evenings. So it was quite obvious how one thing led to another.

While some men yearn for the younger women, I for one praise the older ones. They come with an intoxicating confidence. They carry no pretensions about sex. They have experience. They know men. They care less for meaningful or long-term relationships.

We both enjoyed the tryst. The love-making was sweaty and feral. And there was no guilt afterward. We both knew that we wanted to enjoy each other. And our relationship will probably not go beyond the physical. I called her this morning, and she laughed at yesterday’s experience. She divulged that she came twice. I admitted that I could have gone beyond one round but the alcohol had dulled my senses. She laughed again and added that she will take me up on that and that she will make sure that I was sober and that I would drink an energy drink. The last line of the classic movie “Casablanca” came to my mind.