Chapter 29, A Captain Joins My Book Club free porn video
After my confession to Gabriel, the only star’s gravitation that pulled my life’s orbit was family. The kids married, got jobs, bought houses and blessed me with grandchildren. For seven years hubby and I traveled, not just to the San Francisco Bay Area, Los Angles, New York but Asia, Europe, South America. Life was good. A few grey hairs, so what? Nothing a hairdresser couldn't fix.
Then came the warnings, hot and cold but brushed aside. Soon after my fifty-third birthday, however, it didn’t happen. It wobbled, then it was a no show.
My period missed, not one month but the next and by the third I knew, puberty in reverse, part of me gone, eggless, post-menopausal. I fretted and checked there were no sprouting lip hairs in the mirror and worried.
Am I still a woman?
Compounding my doubts, was hubby's declining libido, from twice a week to once or less, his saddle lacking its firm horn. Uninterested in foreplay, it switched from booty to duty call. He surreptitiously viewed porn to prep himself for his duty.
Can I blame him? Who wants an old woman?
On the plus side, my face expressed fewer wrinkles than the calendar said it should. I didn’t wrinkle up as Mom did. Those who hadn’t seen me for a while remarked about my fountain of youth appearance. I returned their compliments. Theirs’s had an element of truth versus blatant deceptions. Seeing their decay still reflected on my ageing. To camouflage menopause, personal upkeep was doubled down. My attire remained selected for attention, but conservatively. I went to the hairdresser weekly and there was not a sniff of exposed grey hair. Makeup, used sparingly, was my friend. Passing men’s second glances confirmed, I remained a woman. My new mantra was.
I don’t need eggs; it means I’m free of monthly cramps!
We owned a downtown Seattle condo near the Space Needle, purchased to be big city weekenders, a downtown pad, a place to crash after dining and, drinking without the drive home. Rationalizations for investment, which occurs when excess money accumulates without needs for its disposal, squander money, mortgage interest, and real estate tax expenditures to save income taxes. It doesn’t matter, there’s always an excuse. While weekenders we missed most weekends. We had no defence for the cost of feathering an unneeded nest. Soon it was, “Because we own it”.
The “real” condo residents had clubs for sailing, skiing, bicycling and reading. I joined the book club which met twice a month. Hubby was always too tired to go. I went alone and returned home to a husband asleep.
Near the condo was an upscale deco lounge. It had an authentic retro jukebox and the bartender could make a real Singapore sling. Before book club meetings, I stopped there, sat at the bar, and sipped my one Singapore Sling allowance. The mellow melodies of the jukebox comforted as I enjoyed the bar’s cozy cocoon. Its subdued lighting and my mirrored reflection between the multicolored liquor bottles assured me, I was a woman, mature but a woman. The music played to my past's memory recordings as I sipped.
Elle
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