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Age - and heig ... ck ru st ve lo en h w , 6 2 i, ss u R ah ar S
WORDS BY LUCY BRYANT IMAGES: SWNS AND GETTY
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18
osing for a pic with a fan, I spotted a mop of greying, brown hair bobbing toward me. ItÕs him, I realised. My heart skipped a beat. Moments later, the man in his 50s pulled his mobility scooter up in front of my stand. He was funny-looking, a bit on the chubby side! But, as he flashed me a huge grin, butterflies fluttered. ‘I’m Mason Reese,’ he smiled, holding out his hand. ‘Nice to finally meet you,’ I blushed, bending down to shake it. It was October 2018 and I was working at a sci-fi convention, signing photos and doing promotional work. Mason and I had mutual friends and had been chatting on Facebook for a few months before arranging to meet up. As a model, I was used to men making a beeline for me. Most of the time, they were smug, arrogant types and I couldn’t wait to get rid of them. Besides, I preferred older, quirky men. Like Mason. At 54, he may not have
been a typically good looking guy, but he was so charming and very charismatic. And I really fancied him. As I towered over him in my stilettos, we chatted away. He was so funny, making me laugh with his crazy stories. And he had led such an
interesting life as well. ‘I was a child star,’ Mason said. In the 70s, he’d become a household name, appearing in several famous TV adverts. He’d won advertising awards, had been plastered on lots of magazine covers. ‘It was mad,’ Mason laughed. After that, he’d gone on to co-host a variety show – and he was known
e He’d spent the 80s partying, enjoying the showbiz life. But he’d broken both of his legs in a motorcycle accident in the 1980s, and now could only walk short distances without his scooter. Before I knew it, I reali we’d been chatting for th whole hours. ‘Fancy a drink?’ I aske ‘Try to stop me,’ he smiled. An hour later, I was perched on the back of his mobility scooter, as we whizzed off to find a bar. The wind in my hair, I wrapped my arms around Mason’s waist. So romantic. Later, stepping off his scooter, I realised that Mason was only 4ft 10in tall. At 5ft 3in, I was a good few inches taller than him. But, after a few drinks, I slipped off my skyscraper heels so he wouldn’t feel awkward. Then, I I hopped on and headed to the bar!
We had loads in common
