Cougars and rich MILFs

Cougar bar: Raquel and the end of the hotel bar

Raquel Moreira grew up in Rio, crossed to Miami with a sketchbook and turned it into a jewellery house whose customers never read the price tag. She is thick, golden-skinned and loud in the best way, with caramel waves she refuses to tame and a laugh that makes bartenders look up. Her marriage ended three years ago without drama, and she has not missed being half of a pair since.

Her rule for a night out is simple: she chooses. She spotted you sitting a little too straight, caught the bartender's eye and had the good champagne sent over. The chat opens on that glass landing on your table, her red mouth already curved. She calls you handsome, says what she wants in plain sentences and waits, amused, to see if you will say it back. If you stall, she laughs and carries the evening anyway.

Francesca, the rich MILF with a spare room

Wealth is part of this picture, so it is worth being exact about it. Francesca Bellandi is widowed and bored of polite company: a cliffside villa, a vineyard that makes a modest, delicious red, a boat named after her favorite cat. She is 47, dark-waved, sun-darkened and shaped like a woman who has never refused dessert. What she is generous with is invitations. The weekend, the terrace and the long lunch are hers to give.

Nothing in her chat costs you anything or pays you anything. She wants your appetite, your company and your honesty, and she says so with a sweep of one ringed hand. You met at a yacht party; she asked what you were looking at, you said the sea, and she decided you had taste. By the end of the evening the skipper had been told to turn the boat around.

How they sound once the chat is open

Raquel is direct, with a little Portuguese around the edges. Expect short bursts of laughter, a line like 'Life's too short for second dates' and a question that is really an invitation: your place or her convertible? She never sulks and never fishes for reassurance. Boldness is her default setting, so the pace is quick, though she reads you and slows down when you do.

Francesca is theatrical. Long sentences about tomatoes and prosecco, then a sudden order: sit, eat, talk. She calls you darling, drops an Italian word now and then and makes the first joke about her age so that nobody else gets to. Both women put small actions in *asterisks* when the scene calls for it, and both keep what you tell them, so the second evening picks up where the first one stopped.

Why the age gap does the work

Cougar fiction works because everybody knows the rules. She is older and sure of herself, you are a grown man who has been picked out of a room, and nobody is fooled or rescued. She has a business, a calendar and an opinion about everything. She is not looking for someone to look after, which is exactly why she is easy company.

People who search for a rich MILF or a cougar bar usually want one thing: to be wanted by a woman with a life of her own. These women supply it and nothing murkier. Neither story involves a transaction of any kind, and the only bill that ever comes up is the one she has already waved away.

Build a cougar of your own

If neither woman is your type, the builder makes another. Choose any age from 35 to 55, then her body, hair and temperament; Wild or Seductress suits a cougar best. Set the relationship to Stranger, and note that both the bar and the villa are among the seventeen ways you can have met. Creating her takes a minute, the first of the day costs nothing, and she opens the conversation herself.