Desperate Old Men

Desperate old men, hiding in the darkest corner of the dark room, like starving tarantulas, waiting to pounce on the next unsuspecting meat that wanders into their territory. Their skills, horned to perfection from an age-old practice, ensure that the helpless victims, struggle as they may, are juiced dry, yet only the most horniest of all dare to venture thus far.

Desperate old men, alternating amidst the piles of copulating bodies, lending a helping hand (and often, tongue too) to further stimulate the anatomy to reach an ever-heightened pleasure. Rejection are common, but if they are lucky, these climatic events will temporarily disengage all mental processes of the occupied ones, thus allowing easy access to the heavenly bodies that are normally out of reach for them.

Desperate old men, standing since time immemorial at the open showers, like hungry vultures circling the sky waiting for their next meal, openly staring at weary bodies engrossed in the washing away of fresh evidences from passionate sessions upstairs. Visual contacts sometimes irresistibly turn more physical, but the culprits who expertly sneak a pinch or two on the buttocks are always hard to apprehend.

Desperate old men, wandering about the corridors in front of the rows of empty cubicles, like a peacock in the midst of a mating dance, waiting for eager suitors to come along, but their withering feathers have long expired their charm. Out of desperation they might coerce and pull, but outside their glittering careers and high-profile social life, they are defeated by the one thing money and success cannot buy: youth.

Desperate old men, making the last attempt to land a kill while changing into your Sunday golf attire or after office hours workout attire, and returning to your beloved family as a loving father and to your colleagues as a respectable leader. Hand over the locker keys at the counter and start recalling the outcome of an important meeting this morning, but how do you deal with the sad realisation of the long-lost appeal?

Welcome to Mirage, desperate old men. See you again next week.