Afterglow is more difficult when one partner has to attend to both people’s needs and desires. Gabrielle un-skewered herself from her husband, gently kissed him, removed the prophylactic and whispered. “Thank you. I’ll be right back,” and made her way to the bathroom to freshen up.
umsThe bathroom light was on but her Stargardt’s had progressed to a point where she saw nothing but darkness and near darkness. Had she been able to view her reflection she would have found what she saw pleasing. At thirty-seven years old she looked like an adolescent. On the rare occasions she was out and about on her own boys half her age would hit on her but it was a man older than her father that she found an irresistible temptation.
The object of her desire could have passed as Michael Keaton’s double: Same age, same features, same wit. When they were out in public she could hear the confusion in people’s voices as they tried to figure out the relationship between the handsome older man and the “teenager.”
One night when Adriel had been at the clinic “Michael” had taken her out to dinner. He’d made a reservation and when the maître de had seated them she could hear the curiosity in his voice as he said, “Ah, Mr. Wayne. Party of two. Right this way please.” She understood how he felt, she found the relationship confusing as well.
She cleansed her body and then took a clean towel and moistened it with warm water. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she called to her husband, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
She found his mouth, pecked him and then took the towel and wiped off the secretions their love making had left. “Why don’t you go ahead and urinate?” she asked as she held the flask for him. When he was through she carried the pungent liquid to the toilet and dumped it, returning with his sippy cup filled. “Drink this, beautiful. You smell kind of dehydrated.”