It appeared we were the only two humans in residence that were under the age of thirty with the possible exception of the busboy who had that ageless ...look of non-English speaking Central American immigrants without proper documentation.He could have been sixteen or sixty.For some strange reason, my thoughts shifted to my passionless ex-girlfriend back in New York City. She was still this side of thirty and surprisingly was one of those political enablers who constantly were shouting out. "I think you're pretty cute, Billy, and I always have. If mom and dad hadn't moved away back then, I think we would have gotten to know each other a lot sooner than this!" She actually blushed again, and I knew right then and there that she had me. But I wanted to play it out a little more while I still had the upper hand."Well, I don't know…" I feigned."Oh Billy, get real! I haven't exactly been shy around you. I see how you look at me, and that was my whole point!"I hesitated some more, now. It was nowhere near the astronomical figure that Hart was worth, and both of them knew it. Thoroughly defeated, but now knowing what his adversary wanted, Hart spoke. “Okay. How much will it take to keep this quiet? I can write you a check right here on the spot.”The professor held his hands up, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “I apologize if I’ve confused you, Mr. Hart. I don’t want a dime.”Hart looked across at the older man, totally confused. “Then what do you want? A new wing put. Clearing my throat, I said, “I find it helps me relax too.”“What, rubbing your clit?” she said, smiling.“Touché,” I replied, genuinely smiling now. “No, masturbating. It helps me unwind from stress, relaxes me, and it’s fun.”“Agreed,” she said. She cleared her throat self-consciously.“Err, how old are you?” she asked me.“I’m twenty-nine,” I replied. “You?” I asked.“I’m forty-seven,” she admitted.“Hmm. Older woman,” I said, starting to stroke my slightly deflated cock.She noticed the association.