Cougar hunt, p.1
Cougar Hunt, page 1
©2021, 2022, 2023 Lulu M. Sylvian
Edited by Michelle Cooper
Cover: MedeirosCreative.com
Created with Vellum
This one is for old friends, the ones who might never see this: I still remember you, and hope you well, you will probably never know how much your friendships impacted me.
This one is for all the friends who want to be supportive but don’t know how because they don’t read romance: you really don’t know what you’re missing, but I see you being supportive anyway, and thank you, cause that rocks.
Contents
Cougar Hunt
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Seal with a Kiss
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Loaded for Bear
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
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Also by Lulu M. Sylvian
About the Author
Cougar Hunt
A vacation is all she really wanted
Saffron has goals for this trip: secure a willing male body for a meaningless fling, and forget her ex. She’s failing at both. Oscar, an attractive younger man she wouldn’t mind being meaningless with, shut down any propositions before she could make them, and the ex keeps texting her pictures, even though he shouldn’t have her current phone number.
As her vacation goes from bad to worse, Oscar keeps showing up and saving her, like some kind of knight in shining armor— even if it’s just track shorts, and that shine is a sheen of sweat across rippling muscles.
Little does she know that Oscar is interested in much more than something meaningless.
One
Cougars on the loose...
Music thumped heavy in the air. And in Saffron’s chest. It was uncomfortable and fought with her heartbeat. It reminded her that she was getting older. Scratch that, she was old. Old and discarded. Forgotten, forlorn, and following her friend into the cruise ship’s night club.
They were there to celebrate being free of the shackles of marriage— Kelly was five years marriage free and counting like it was recovery. Saffi, three hundred sixty three days, not that she was counting— and to get their groove on with any willing body they could corner for the week. They had ten days and Saffi wasn’t sure she would be able to find anybody interested in grooving with her in that short of a time.
Kelly didn’t seem to realize, or care that she was closer to fifty than not. But then again, Kelly had always had a level of confidence that Saffi had lacked. Not that Saffi wasn’t capable. She was. And she was confident within her area of expertise. Being a raging extrovert, and now landing men, were not in her wheelhouse. Hell, they weren’t on the same block as her wheelhouse. Everything about this trip was far and away from anything that resembled a wheelhouse, a comfort zone, or any area of competency Saffi may have ever claimed at any point in her life.
Dragged along in her friend’s wake, Saffi felt the sharp gazes of everyone questioning her presence. She needed to get a grip, a firm one on the back of her neck and shake hard. Reality was that no one cared, no one was glaring judgement at her. For some reason that was so much more scary than thinking someone might resent her presence.
Once inside the club, the throb was more music than noise. Saffi bounced with the beat. She didn’t know the band, but the music was familiar. Her step daughter listened to this kind of dance music.
“You good?” Kelly yelled over the loud music.
“I’m fine,” Saffi lied. She was in fake it ‘til you make it mode. In her head, like a bodysuit under her flippy skirt and low cut lace-up blouse, she pictured herself in a confidence suit. Right now it was itchy and ill fitting, but it was there providing the confidence she naturally felt was lacking in her life. It wasn’t working very well.
“Want a drink?” Kelly asked nodding toward the bar.
Saffi nodded and they made a bee-line for the bar. With their hands around ridiculously large, and probably prohibitively expensive margaritas—that pay in advance and swipe your ship ID card thing was dangerous—Kelly and Saffi scanned the club for a place to park and drink, before they headed to the dance floor.
“Come on.” Kelly grabbed Saffi’s wrist. They skirted the dance floor and slid into a shell-shaped half booth.
Saffi’s exposed thighs stuck to the sticky pink vinyl.
“I feel like we’re sitting in half a vajayjay,” she smirked.
Kelly looked over her shoulder and around the curved booth. The back was taller than the sides, and the upholstery was fluted with deep grooves. “I think it’s supposed to be a shell.”
“Vagina, shell, same diff,” Saffi giggled as she took another drink.
The alcohol hit her system as if they were up the side of some mountain in higher altitudes than cruising along at sea level. The invisible fake confidence suit she mentally pictured herself in seemed to fit more comfortably with more reinforcement along the spine. She didn’t care if some twenty-something thought her almost fifty-something ass shouldn’t be wearing the short skirt she had on. She looked good, and she knew it. Well, at least the margarita knew it. With the help of the drink her inner bad bitch could reign and those other Hugh-sounding voices in her head could shut the fuck up and get locked away for the night.
The beat of the music changed to something Saffi knew well. It was her “stand up, and strap in,” she “had this” anthem. She had been listening to this song on heavy repeat for the past year.
“I’m gonna dance, you coming?”
Kelly, straw artfully between puckered lips, blinked and shook her head.
“Watch my drink.” Saffi bounced her way out of the booth, leaving behind what felt like patches of skin on the vinyl.
The dance floor wasn’t crowded, and from what she could tell, it was mostly couples dry humping instead of dancing. She didn’t care. Years earlier, she and Madison took a mommy-and-me dance class. It had been the smartest decision she made, forming the strong bond she still had with her now grown step-daughter. It also had been the start of two decade’s worth of dance classes the two of them had taken together. Saffi used those skills now to roll and sway her hips. When she had the space, she incorporated foot work, and when the music ramped up she could shimmy and shake, and even twerk her back side.
At some point she found she was not grooving to the beat alone. An attractive morsel—she couldn’t help but think of him as a sweet young thing— was dancing along next to her. She wasn’t sure when they acknowledged they were dancing together, they never touched, but she felt a surge of energy and joy she hadn’t felt in longer than she cared to remember.
That thought blindsided her. Her shoe went sideways as her foot continued to the floor. She stumbled straight into God-you’re-hot-please-tell-me-you’re-over-twenty-one’s arms.
He smiled and began laughing as he held her. “Yeah,” he chuckled, “you okay?”
Regaining her balance, but still in the man’s arms she looked up at him. “Shit that was out loud, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “You aren’t going to fall over if I let go are you?”
“Do you have to let go?”
When his eyes crinkled up with an even broader smile Saffi extricated herself from his helpful embrace. She covered her eyes, as if that gesture could hide her embarrassment. “That wasn’t supposed to be out loud either.”
“Maybe you should take a break, get something to drink?”
“I’ve had a drink. Maybe more than I realized since I’m not filtering very well.”
He stood back and extended his arm indicating she should lead the way from the floor.
“You didn’t tell me how old you were,” she reminded him.
“I’m well over twenty-one if that’s what you are concerned with.”
They stopped in front of the booth where Kelly wasn’t watching Saffi’s drink. Kelly wasn’t watching much of anything. Her eyes were closed and her face suctioned to the face of some man. It looked like she found a willing body.
“That was fast.” Saffi crossed her arms and shifted her weight so her hip popped to the side.
“That your friend?” her dance partner asked.
Saffi nodded.
“Looks like she’s trying to suck my cousin’s appendix out through his face.”
Saffi turned to him and nodded. If she put any thought into how good looking this young man was, she’d start being stupid. Well, more stupid than she already had been. It didn’t matter how handsome Hugh had been, other good looking men twisted her tongue into knots. Hugh had always found it entertaining. She had always found it embarrassing.
“How’s your ankle? Want to get out of here and get some fresh air, and maybe something to drink that’s not going to impact your filtering system anymore?”
“That sounds like a good idea. I think they are sucking all the air out the room with that.” Saffi pointed and sw irled her finger around indicating the make-out session in front of them.
They stood in place and watched the kissing like a strange show on display before they both shook their heads and left.
Once out of the club, Saffi felt that same thudding in her chest from the muffled boom of the night club. This time it didn’t make her feel old, it reminded her that she was alive. Booze, dancing, not being able to form complete sentences around good looking young men, yeah, that actually felt good.
“There’s a smoothie place just up the concourse, how does that sound?”
Saffi nodded.
Out from under the flashing colored lights of the club Saffi could see her companion clearly. He was younger, but not as young as she first thought. He had full lips, and his light eyes were rimmed in guy-liner. She always did appreciate when men went that extra step for clubbing. It seemed like once out of college, they stopped doing that and instead thought that dress slacks and a clean polo was dressing up for going out. Maybe it was an age thing, maybe it was a generational thing. It seemed that she used to date guys who wore makeup, and then didn’t, and the only difference was age and income.
They walked in silence until they reached the smoothie stand. Saffi ordered something with blueberries and bananas, the man ordered something with heavy protein and an extra scoop of peanut butter.
“Thank you,” she said as she took the smoothie. “I don’t know your name. I’m Saffron.”
“Oscar.” He held out a large hand with long tapering fingers.
A discharge of static zapped her fingers as she reached to take his hand.
“Ow.” she jumped
Oscars eyebrows bounced as he extended his hand again. “Electric.”
Saffi couldn’t help but notice how warm and comfortable his hand felt around hers. Time slowed, and for a second of eternity she thought there might have been something to that electric discharge between them. Something more than basic science. His eyes were mesmerizing, a pale hazel with a spot of bright blue taking up about a quarter of his left iris.
When his hand slid away from hers, time resumed normalcy. Clocks ticked, hearts beat, and Saffi ignored the attraction she felt toward the man who was out getting fresh air and a smoothie with her because his cousin was otherwise occupied.
“So that was your cousin?” Saffi asked.
They strolled down the concourse, and out onto the deck. The night was dark, practically cloudless with a glowing gibbous moon. Waves and the ship’s engine created a calming background shushing.
“Yep Tyler, and your friend?”
“Kelly.”
“I should probably warn you, he’s…” Oscar paused.
“Only looking for a ship hook up. No worries there. That’s Kelly’s plan too.” She didn’t admit it was supposed to be her plan too, but she wasn’t so sure about that now.
“And you?” he asked.
Saffi stopped and looked up at him. He was tall, but not excessively so. She didn’t need to crane her neck as much as she would have if she wanted to look at Hugh. She mentally put Oscar in the six-two range.
“Never mind,” he said with a chuckle, and resumed walking. His long legs ate up distance.
“Never mind what?” Saffi asked as she had to scramble after him to catch up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t strike me as the type.”
“And what type is that?”
“The meaningless hook up type. There’s something about you that gives me the impression you would not be the one sitting in a club somewhere playing tonsil hockey with some guy you just met.”
It was a pretty slick way to turn her down before she could make any embarrassing forward plays. She hated getting discounted because of her size, and it was always her size that was the excuse. Saffron didn’t look her age, and even being older than most people assumed, she had never been rejected based on her age. It always came down to the size of her ass. Body positivity be damned. There seemed to be plenty of men claiming they liked thicc, with two Cs, thighs. But they did not exist in her dating circles, or on any of those apps Kelly had her create accounts on.
“So what’s giving you that impression? My ass?” She circled the area around her ample hip. “Sounds like you’re saying I’m not your meaningless hook up type.” She stopped with a huff. Letting her smile dissipate, she shook her head. This was stupid. That invisible confidence bodysuit suddenly felt itchy. “Why’d you have to go there? I wasn’t hitting on you or anything.”
Any confidence, real or imaginary evaporated. She plastered a sarcastic smirk across her lips and waited.
“I did notice that, and your ass”— Oscar walked around her raking her form with his gaze. With a bite of his lower lip, he made sure she knew he was appreciating the view— “that’s not a hook-up kind of ass. That’s the kind of ass that demands a commitment.”
Saffi bit the inside of her cheek trying to stop the blush she could feel burning. So she had been wrong, she had been the one to lob it into the booty size court. His volley had been artful. He managed to make her feel like he thought she was attractive, and yet, he still dodged that hook-up possibility.
Fine, she could live with that. If Kelly was going to spend the cruise fucking his cousin, maybe Oscar would be in need of a cruise buddy to do things with.
She dismissed it all with a shrug and continued walking as if that hiccup of miscommunication and establishment of cruise friend-zone hadn’t just happened.
“We know why Kelly’s on the cruise. Why are you here?” she asked.
“Family destination wedding crap.” Oscar took a sip of his smoothie. “My cousin is getting married at the resort.”
“Not the one Kelly is with?”
“No, not him. His sister. She didn’t want a big wedding, just an ecologically unsound one.”
“Oh, someone doesn’t like cruise ships.”
“Don’t even get me started,” Oscar quipped.
Saffi giggled. When was the last time she had actually giggled? They continued to stroll the decks of the ship, talking about everything from her divorce to him having previously worked in Central America— but he was an accountant now, better stability. They were both headed for the same resort in Belize. This vacation was someone else’s idea. They spent hours talking about nothing.
Saffi couldn’t stop a yawn from splitting her face and causing her eyes to water. “What time is it? I think my buzz wore off a few hours ago.” She covered her face as another yawn took over.
“Let me walk you back to your cabin. Make sure you get in all right,” Oscar offered.
“You’re sweet, but no need. I’ve kept you out here long enough. It was lovely to meet you Oscar. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
She felt alone trekking through what felt like miles of hallway on the guest room levels without Oscar strolling by her side. He was a calming presence to her manic, broken self confidence. She scoffed at herself, she couldn’t possibly miss him, she had only just met him. Inwardly she groaned. Saffi clued in that maybe, that last offer to walk her home had been a come-on.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she said out loud in reaction to her cluelessness and the bright shiny red birthday present bow stuck on her cabin door.
Two
One foot fall at a time Oscar covered the track on the uppermost deck of the ship. The views were monotonous, blue sky, some clouds, horizon line, darker blue water. The same thing north, west, south… the same. Up just past dawn, he was one of the few passengers out. Of course the majority of passengers stumbling about looked more like they hadn’t even headed to their cabins for the night.
