Mary goes to Prom

Steve's heart raced as he approached the fence separating his yard from hers. Mrs. Mary, a widow of 65, had always had a certain allure about her. Her silver hair was always neatly tied back in a bun, and the way her sports bra contained her little breasts, He knew it was wrong to feel this way about someone so much older than him, but the way she moved with such grace and confidence in her own skin was mesmerizing. She looked up from her gardening and offered him a warm smile... "Steven," she said, "What brings you out here today?" Steve took a deep breath and reminded himself of the reason for his visit. "Well, I... I know this might seem weird," he began, "but would you do me a huge favor?" Mary cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's that?"... "Would you... go to prom with me?" Her laughter filled the air, but then she grew serious. "Steven, you're a sweet boy, but don't you have anyone else to ask?" He swallowed hard. "Well, I don't really have many friends, and I just thought, maybe, it wouldn't be too awkward for you?" Her expression softened, and she put down the watering can. "You know what? I'd be honored."