The seventy-five year old virgin 
by Camincha

The cartoon in a 2008 magazine shows two
lovely young women walking on a beach wearing?
bikinis. One woman says, Who would have
thought being eighty would be so much fun?

It was nineteen seventy-nine. Alba at forty-six, had to quit her job at Beutch & Beutch, the mega corporation downtown San Francisco, for mental health reasons. She was part of an unprecedented, unheard of, class action against the company she had worked for twelve years. A company that prided itself on being private.

Had done excellent maintenance on herself. Kept trim, slim by walking everywhere she could. Being very careful not to overeat. Practicing simple exercises on a daily basis, stretching. All day long, stretching. Tightening the stomach muscles and releasing when she was sitting down, when she was standing up. People thought her half her age. Her son often mistaken for her boyfriend.

The harassment against the “instigators” had reached dangerous proportions. Alba felt, if I don’t quit they are going to take me out in a stretcher like it happened to Rosemary. It’s come to that. I either quit or I’ll die here. Or I’ll start thinking of throwing myself off the Golden Gate. The last three months had been seeing a psychiatrist because her level of anxiety was escalating day by day after all, Alba and the other women, mere humans, were up against a giant.

So she quit with no prospect of a job. There was a recession going on. Nobody was hiring. Had money in her retirement plan, but right after quitting found out the company would not let her touch it for a year. So was depended on her small savings account. And had no energy to get out of the house and go job hunting. Adding to her misery, the absence of her boyfriend of seven years. They had parted for good, three months before. She went into a depressed period, crying, didn’t want to talk or see anyone.?Kept the curtains drawn, no matter what the weather. Had no appetite. Dirty dishes piled up in the zinc. At moments seemed to her the house was taken an unpleasant smell. But her friends didn’t give up, bombarded her with calls, cups of coffee, articles on positive thinking.

It worked. After a few weeks Alba woke up from her nightmare ready to start helping herself. In a flash decided to rent the bedroom her son, now living three thousand miles away used to have.? When company came, they would have to improvise. Left the furniture in. Figured would get more renting it furnished. She called papers to inquire how much they charged for placing and ad. THE ADVERTISER had the lowest rates. It was a weekly freebie.

With her new found energy she picked up a copy and started to read through it. Under EMPLOYMENT found:

                          PART TIME OFFICE WORK            SALARY NEGOTIABLE.

Well, worth looking into. She called the number in the ad. The man was courteous. Pleasant. Easy to get along with. Alba thought.

Would she mail him her resume?

Your address, please?

Yes. Mail it to my office.

The address he had given her was most convenient to her, downtown San Francisco on Powell St. next to the Cable Car line that started at? the BART station on Market.

It was a three story apartment building. He answered the front door and there was instant mutual approval in their eyes. He was her type.? Husky. Good looking. Fair complexion. Blonde. But it was the mischievous twinkle in his green eyes that excited her. Like he was always thinking of some trouble to get into. He directed her to a door ajar in the middle of the hallway. He pushed the door opened to let her pass. His eyes on her. Smiling his approval.

His office was furnished with excellent taste, simple, elegant. Definitely masculine. Two medium size desks. A couch of brown heavy corduroy, matching chairs in opposite sides of the room.? Well equipped, computer, typewriter, telephones, copy machine. She notice the rug she was standing on, how thick it was.

He explained, the work was light, bookkeeping, some typing. Would one day a week be all right? Same address. He would be there to teach her, guide her through the first steps till she got the hang of it. He had checked her information. You were making an excellent salary, one thousand a month, he smiled approvingly, with a discreet questioning look in his eyes.

She met his eyes but volunteered no information.

He understood. Suddenly, he was all business. Looked away, then down at the papers on his desk. I will pay you cash at the end of each working day. I will meet your salary, he said, in a serious tone.

It was her turn. She looked at him in an inquisitive, direct way. Was he serious? That was great. Her hours would be only eight a week, but well worth her time. Something, some money coming in. She smiled happily.

Lloyd smiled back.

The first day of work they met at nine. She was punctual. He had called the day before to ask if she needed a ride. She had assured him she would make it alright. Thank you.

At her first knock he opened the door.? Their clothes fell off their bodies. He pulled her down. She closed her eyes. Opened them. They were horizontal on the thick warm rug in the middle of the room. She closed them again and allowed herself to enjoy the moment. Later on, he became the perfect host. Served coffee and muffins which filled the room with their delicious aroma. Alba also noticed how comfortable the place was. And how the bathroom was spotless and smelled of, cinnamon? Well, most pleasant. They talked. He took the lead putting her at ease. He told her about his business, real state. The work? She didn’t have to concern herself about it. And he made a gesture with his hand to indicate that it was of no importance. He took her to lunch. The? street, filled her senses with contrasting colors, noise, people, smells agitated by the gentle breeze blowing from the Pacific. Blue skies. Sunshine. ?The kind of day that movies are made of so the world will think, Oh yes, San Francisco, always sunny in California. What a? contrast with the quiet little island they had been in all morning.?? In the afternoon he initiated their love making again. Let’s climaxed together, he whispered. They didn’t. But, no matter, it was good. No, better than the morning. They fell asleep in each other’s arms. At five o’clock, they were ready to leave, smiling he handed her an envelope.

She opened it at home. It contained the full day’s pay.

Alba’s friends were delighted, a small part-time, and?the room rented! Encouraged, decided to set up job interviews for her. She met several interesting persons. Men. They praised her being fluent in English and Spanish. But when they found out the salary she expected, they had only promises, If this or that position opens. We will keep you in mind. Meantime the balance in her savings account was dwindling. However she did get invited to lunch, dinner and parties. So it was at a loud, colorful house party that she heard a long ago known voice whisper in her ear, Alba, how are you?

She turned ‘round to face him. Oscar!

Can I get you a drink?

A Coke, no ice, she smiled.

They sat and talked. Well, Oscar said, the girl I brought here tonight works as interpreter-translator….

But that doesn’t pay any…

He interrupted. It pays very well, minimum twenty five an hour.

Her eyes got big in delighted surprise.

I’ll introduce you. She owes me a couple of favors.? She’ll help you. Talk to her. Ask her how to get into that field. Now let’s dance. And at the sound of a cumbria, they joined the others in the middle of the room.


MONDAY, ALBA AND Renne, met in San Francisco for lunch. Renee was a delightful woman, very much in love with Oscar and eager to help Alba. Don’t forget your resume, were Renee’s last words as they embraced good bye.

Renee introduced her to the manager of the Costas Institute in San Francisco that had among many services, an interpreter-translators department.

The manager, Ina, perhaps mid thirties. Probably British, assumed Alba. Long blonde hair. In each of her arms wore at least twenty bracelets, of different materials and colors. Does she take them off? When she makes love? To sleep at night? When she showers, bathe? Does she leave them on?? Alba stared, smiling.

Ina caught her look. Amused. Anticipating the question, suddenly spoke to Alba in Spanish, No. Nunca me los saco!!

Alba, blurted out, You are Peruvian!

Yes. Miraflores. We can always tell, ha? The accent gives us away, smiled Ina, Yeah of British parents. I grew up with English and Spanish, like you.

They talked of Peru. Found they would have to continue the conversation at another time, they had so much to talk about. There were many parallels in their lives. They had lived in the same city, Miraflores. They had? studied at the same school, San Jorge, only in different years. Also had frequented the same spots, El Parquecito Salazar, La Diagonal, D’onofrio, La Tiendecita Blanca and on and on. Many names mentioned were familiar to each other.

Turning to business Ina interrupted, Well, let me give you the information, You have to pass the state exams, written and oral. There is no curriculum to study. No classes available to take. Ina did have a number, though, Alba could call for info on dates, fees, locations. Ina explained further. You can work as interpreter and translator but not in the courts of law. Not till you pass the exams. So, added with a smile. Call me tomorrow. Ina did give her?some assignments every week. And was delighted to receive positive evaluations from clients.

Alba found out that the exam, the written, was not to be given for several months. And there was the oral to follow. Meantime no steady income. No health insurance. No paid vacation. No sick leave. Independent?! Oh! Yeah. On her own. ?Found out how much she missed the copy machines, good typewriters. Definitely a mixed situation, sweet and sour. Like Chinese food, she smiled to herself. And would she pass…? Alba got to work to find what the exams were all about. To the pleasant man who answered the Judicial Council’s phone: Are there books I can buy to study? She asked.

Silence. Smile? Sympathetic laughter. No. You either know it or you don’t.

Oscar was more helpful, Go to the Hall of Justice, 6th and Bryant. Talk to the interpreters there. Watch them. Listen. See what you can learn. Go to the bookstore of Golden Gate University and buy all the bilingual dictionaries they have and study them.

She did study them. Her head ached, her stomach, but she did….Yes. The months passed. Alba adjusted, slowly, to her new life with its unfamiliar locations, persons, the no schedule, schedule. She was getting by. The rent from a roommate she hardly ever saw as he traveled a lot. Lloyd’s…,the interpreting, translating. It all helped,

The written exam reminded her of the harshest, longest most difficult she had ever taken. It went on and on and on. The booklet with the questions, seemed to add itself pages, one for each one she filled up.

Several weeks passed and finally Alba received the letter. She had passed. The oral exam a couple of months later was in the form of a courtroom situation. Somehow the cumulative research she had done, watching, listening, reading came to her aid, rescued her when she needed it. She passed the oral also.

A year had gone by. It was nineteen-eighty. She now had her Interpreter’s certificate. She was forty-seven starting over with a new career. Making excellent money. Just reserving Wednesdays to be with Lloyd.


BERT WAS THE lawyer she was to work with that morning through Costas. They shook hands, smiled into each other’s eyes. He was charming. Not exactly her type. A bit on the chubby side. Not tall. About five nine feet. Wore glasses. But altogether rather a handsome brunette.

Bert called Costas and asked for Alba again and again. She liked working with him. He was an excellent lawyer. Soft spoken but he got his point across. They went out to dinner. He liked for them to go for rides down the coast. Their love making was delicious. Had a very nice apartment in a trendy neighborhood in San Francisco. Bert was single. No children.? But his mother really, really wanted grandchildren.


SOME WEDNESDAYS WHEN ?she met Lloyd, Alba would be very tense. Full of doubts. What was she doing? It didn’t mean anything? Or did it? She was confused, lately she felt she cared for him, really cared. Oh! all those contrary feelings.

Lloyd knew how to handle it. He would make small talk. At moments touching on serious subjects, then a joke or two and he would talk stealing sideway glances at her to gauge her mood till she started to relax. Then smiling into her eyes as if to ask her permission he would take her hands, kiss them, pull her to him….

He liked her. He really cared for her. He had told her he loved her. He had said as much. He murmured in her ear often, I love you, Alba. He called her everyday. Several times a day. Day and night. He showered her with lovely gifts: a deluxe edition of English-Spanish dictionary. Jewelry. A TV set. And he was interested in everything she did. So kind, gentle, good looking, passionate. Yes. And married with two children.

So she knew. Didn’t need to ask herself, why?? She brought it up. Softly, more as thinking out loud….

He listened. Paid attention. Invited her to brunch the following Sunday at his Club. Took her swimming at a lovely Country Club in the Peninsula. They went dancing. But it was too late. The combination of her new financial independence, her relationship with Bert. The uneasy feeling that never left her was growing and growing in her.


THE FOLLOWING WEEK Lloyd’s office was full of sunshine. The aroma of coffee and fresh pastry, so enticing. But he wasn’t his usual confident self. They had been talking in previous days of their relationship. This is not going to ever go any place, Alba softly.

A dark shadow of pain darkened his green eyes.

Alba’s filled with tears. She had not imagine the pain she was feeling. The room became dark, she was trying to contain the tears that were spilling down her cheeks. They turned in passionate embrace toward each other. My darling, my love, Lloyd cried out. Their love making was savage. They exploded into one another. They climaxed together.

Lloyd didn’t say anything to let her know he knew she was seeing someone else. He was silent. It was obvious to Alba he was giving her a chance to talk to him.

She did: It has been wonderful, magicaI but need time to study, you? know I have enrolled at State. She looked up, he was watching her. A look of relief in his eyes. Thankful she was being discreet. He smiled.

Alba smiled.? She smiled broadly, lovingly. She had not realized

how much this was going to hurt. Tears rolled down her cheeks again….


ALBA CONTINUED TO see Bert and they had fun together. They enjoyed movies, ethnic restaurants, drives down the coast. A? plus was that their love making was so very good. He encouraged her to buy underwear at Fredericks of Hollywood downtown which specialized ?in unusual, bawdy pieces, panties with a slit in the crotch. Oh yes! he would moan. Extra friction….Oh, Yes. Yes. They found they enjoyed talking, really talking to one another. One day he mentioned he was thirty-three. And she realized he didn’t know her age…She found him staring at her, his face distorted by an expression of disbelief.

You are forty-nine? He managed. Then to his credit, he smiled. His expression softened again. But immediately he looked away averting her eyes.? From then on their relationship cooled down. He took to mentioning often, how much his aging mother wanted grandchildren. Alba took the hint. Exasperated, one day, she told him, Well, I had a tubal ligation…

Bert, looked at her. His face a big question mark? ? ?

She laughed, the Fallopian tubes get tied to prevent pregnancy….

They didn’t see each other much anymore. When they did, it was difficult to be spontaneous, to really talk to each other.

Next time Bert called, she told him how busy she was, You know school, working. Let me call you, maybe during summer brake. It was only January.


THE COURSES ALBA was taking in Spanish, English and French at State demanded more and more of her. She was a extremely hard working student striving always to be the best. Nothing less than an A. She earned Honors. Did her Masters in two years financed mostly by Fellowships earned: “FOR YOUR ACADEMIC EXCELLENCE AND COMMITMENT TO ACADEMIC EQUALITY.” 

It was nineteen-eighty-seven. She was fifty-four. And as always, looked half her age. Fit. Keeping up all her excellent maintenance routine. And mentally, more than ever through all her classes, and ?her involvement in writer’s groups. It was all the editing, rewriting. And learning the computer. And there were the Open Mics, which she loved, a different one every night. Enough for every taste. They happened in bars, cafes, schools, book stores, libraries.

Alba was making an excellent living as Interpreter-Translator. Active in writing groups, In Open Mics she became quite popular. Her favorite spot, THE BLUE MONKEY Café, in Hayes Valley. Big. Airy. Colorful. One entire wall was enhance with a mural of a purple monkey in its natural habitat. The Café sold great pastry, sandwiches. Delicious coffee. Open Mic nights it overflowed with people. And yet ?those evenings were disciplined, entertaining, because the woman that run the series paid attention to each reader, gave all equal time, positive criticism, a lot praise.? One night, particularly inspired Alba read a short story that was very well received.

When the Open Mic was over, a tall, good looking guy with a? pony tail, accompanied by two or three other persons approached her. The tall guy said, I never heard a better written short story….


SIXTEEN YEARS LATER they were still seeing each other. Alba was now seventy-five. It was two-thousand-eight. And, as a product of the times, had had plastic surgery. Botox, for maintenance. Continued her active life mental, sexual, physical, spiritual. Kept herself slender at one hundred twelve pounds, perfect for her five two, small bone frame.

Her relationship with Ray was of occasional lovers. He was ?a technical writer for a big corporation downtown San Francisco. Creative at love making. Passionate. They met at her house. Or his apartment in the Avenues where his enormous bed was a huge playpen. Great for enjoying all kinds of delightful positions. And where in the mornings he would serve her coffee and sometimes make her quesadillas. And where his cat would curl up and sleep between them. When they met he always had presents for her, CDs, tapes, flowers, books of her favorite Spanish authors. And through the years was always most flattering, to him she was always beautiful, always funny. He would burst out loud, She is beautiful. She is funny. And laugh, delighted––each time––as with a new found discovery. Another plus, he loved everything Latin. He knew as much or more than Alba of Latin American and Spanish music and literature. They always had a lot to talk about. Enjoyed music, movies, going out to dinner.

Alba sometimes got frustrated with the infrequency of their love making. But her anxieties were appeased, nurtured through the praise she got at work, at the Open Mics. She frequented men friends. Enjoyed their company. Her poems and fiction started to get published. Writing, editing, submitting kept her happily busy.

ONE LATE AFTERNOON, at the commuter’s hour, crowds everywhere downtown San Francisco. Many trying to get out of the city, catch a bus, a cable car, a street car, a taxi, get on BART. In the midst of all that,?a familiar face appeared in front of Alba. It took a moment before they reached?for each other and embraced fondly. Lloyd asked her to dinner. We have so much to talk about, he smiled.

He had selected MC2, a unique restaurant on Pacific Ave. Alba was there for the first time. Stepping into it, she stood a moment in the foyer to savor what she saw, what was being offered her, the spacious, elegant, sophisticated place with tables and chairs of curvaceous? shapes, of light wood that set off enormous flower arrangements of bright colors, strategically placed through out the place, spreading its colors with skillful strokes, on the ceiling, the walls, the furniture. And she looked forward to tasting the food, she had heard is was New American! Uhmmm

Lloyd and Alba enjoyed each others company, being together. Talking. Sharing. He was divorced. Two grand children. Real State a great source of joy, a continuous challenge. Financially rewarding. She looked him over. He was just as elegant as always. Maybe five pounds over weight? Still had a head full of hair. And most important, the twinkle in his eyes was still there. Just as mischievous.

Alba brought him up to date.? Alba found herself so comfortable in his company. Just like when he used to hold her and whisper words of love in her ear. As when his eyes shone delighted when presenting her with another piece of jewelry. It felt easy to confide in him, I have a doctor’s appointment next week. . .

You? You never…..You never go to the doctor.

Well, this is different. I did have it under control with exercise but do need to see a doctor now. She stopped herself realizing hadn’t told anyone. Had not shared with anyone…But here she was blurting it out to Lloyd.

He looked concerned.

No. Not to worry. Have researched it thoroughly. Is a prolapsed of the vagina. Displacement of the vagina. The tissues have become relaxed. Is just a tightening up. Can be helped with a simple operation. Actually quite common. Like a face lift, she smiled playfuly. I’m going to be brand new again. I’m going to look very pretty. She lowered her voice and leaned over, the doctor told me, I’m even going to put a little cherry there!?

They laughed heartily. People around them smiled in their direction welcoming merriment in the sober, elegant, sophisticated environment.

It was his turn. With mischief in his eyes, he smiled, Would you save yourself for me? Would you let me be the first.…?

you can send comment to the author at camincha at comcast.net