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It was another year before Frances McComber, the fifty-eight-year-old spinster school teacher whose best friends found love, finally had her turn. She'd just retired and was planning on spending most of the year in a lake cabin she owned just across the border in Wisconsin.

While still in Monroe, every morning she stopped in a local coffee shop. "Excuse me," said the busboy, "I see you in here all the time, you look familiar. Are you Miss McComber?"

"I'm Frances McComber, and you are?"

"I knew it. I'm Kevin Conroy. I was in your fifth-grade class."

"That was a long time ago," Fran laughed, "you're not in fifth grade anymore."

"No ma'am. I just graduated. I'm working here but in a month or so, I'll start working on my family's farm."

"Where's that?"

"It's right across the border in Wisconsin. It's near Salem Lakes." Fran finished her coffee, paid the waitress and left. She thought nothing of the encounter with Kevin Conroy.

He didn't. Every morning, he stopped his chores to have a chat with her. One day, "Ma'am, I'm on break, do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Their conversations had been pleasant, and she was pleased that at least one of her students remembered her.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and sat across from her. At this time of the morning, there weren't many customers in the coffee shop. "Miss McComber. I don't have a date very often, and you don't seem to be with anyone, can I take you to a movie?"

Miss McComber tried not to laugh. No, she hadn't had a date in ages. It had been a year since her ‘date' with Jimmy Highsmith in Chicago. She didn't go to Chicago anymore. With her friends involved with men, it would be unseemly for a woman her age to go to one of those conventions alone. What would people think?

She tried to be polite, "Kevin, that's very thoughtful of you, but I'm old enough to be your grandmother." You should be dating girls your own age; like that waitress."

"She has a boyfriend; besides I've asked girls my own age, and they want nothing to do with mm?"

"Why is that?"

"I'm short and girls laugh because I'm a farmer."

"I see. Kevin, you're young. Keep trying."

For the next week, Fran went into the coffee shop; Kevin was pleasant to her, but didn't take his break while she was there.

It was different at home. She couldn't get him off her mind. He reminded her of Giovanni on Sierra Island. Connie had told her all about him; bragged about him. He was short; outgoing and what if Fran thought, Kevin has in his pants what Connie claimed Giovanni had.

She couldn't get him off her mind when she went to bed, put her hand under the covers and under her nightgown. It was something she'd never done until that first trip to Italy. Giorgio had taken her virginity.

Back home, her nights were restless thinking of him and then thinking of the men at those Chicago conventions like Jimmy Highsmith.

What would it be like with Kevin Conroy? What would it be like if he had what Connie claimed Giovanni had? What would it be like if he had a tongue like Jimmy? Her pussy was wet thinking about it. Her pussy got wetter when her fingers played with her clitoris.

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