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Stevie Turner Author
Category:
Women
Publisher: Smashwords
Type: Fiction
Pages: 174
Copyright: July 12th 2014
ISBN-13: 9781310885549
Price: $1.25 (eBook)
A humorous look at a couple's mid-life crisis.
After going through the menopause Lyn finds that she no longer wants sex. This is unfortunate, as her husband Neil still does. When he discards her after 35 years of marriage like an old worn out shoe, Lyn moves to Cornwall to start a new life. However, new friends are hard to find, and she feels lonely. On the spur of the moment she decides to join an online dating site, ‘MatchULike’, just for companionship.
Amongst the peculiar people she meets is Peter; shy, and conscious that his ‘gentleman’s’ operation has rendered him an unattractive prospect in the marriage stakes. Lyn makes a friend of Peter, but when Neil gets to hear about the friendship he realises too late that there is more to a relationship than just sex, and he suddenly starts to appear back on the scene and wants to turn her life upside down all over again!
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
“Sorry, but it’s still the same as when I told you the last time and the time before that. It’s too painful, and I haven’t got a vagina anymore!” Lyn Fuller sighed as she removed her husband’s wandering hand. “Can’t you just accept it?”
From a clear vantage point between his wife’s legs, Neil Fuller let out an expletive as he risked a quick second glance:
“Yes you have, I can see one!” His finger pointed directly towards the object of the dispute.
“It’s for exit purposes only.”
“Shit.
“No, that’s the other end.”
“Well, can’t you stick something up there to help?” He took another glimpse; his erection deflating rapidly as he spoke.
“Wild yam is supposed to do the trick if you can’t take HRT.”
“Eh? You’ve got to stick a yam up there?” Neil looked quizzically at the size of the introitus on display, mentally comparing it to the dimensions of the root vegetable.
“Wild yam cream, dickhead.” She rolled her eyes.
“What good would that do?” He exhaled forcefully.
“I’ve no idea, but what else would you suggest?”
“How the fuck do I know? Ask the Quack for some bombers or something?”
“You mean pessaries?”
“Yeah.”
Lyn felt the mattress give a little creak of protestation as her husband flopped down onto the pillow:
“What am I supposed to do then? Tie a knot in it?”
“You know I don’t want to take HRT. Pessaries are also full of oestrogen, and you chucked away the KY, so if the wild yam cream’s no good then we’re stuffed.”
“Or not, as the case may be.” Neil had a sudden enlightening thought. “Marlon Brando used butter in ‘Last Tango in Paris.”
“Well I wouldn’t fancy spreading it on my bread after you’ve dipped your willy in it, and Maria Schneider shot him at the end anyway, so it didn’t do him any good in the long run.” Lyn closed her eyes and wished his obsession with sex would go away. “And no, you’re not sticking it in there either. Yeah, I saw that film too.”
She opened up one eye to watch as her husband turned over on his side, lifted himself up on one elbow, and reached over to turn off the lamp:
“We’re only in our fifties. Does that mean twenty or thirty years plus with no sex then?”
“There are other ways; you know that. It’s all about getting used to the new normal and accepting it.” Lyn shuffled over towards him and cuddled up to his warm back.
“I don’t want to get used to it.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to. My body is fifty five years old. I’m not the nineteen year old I was when we first met.”
“You can say that again. You were as randy as a sack full of rabbits back then.” A small smile played on Neil’s lips in the darkness, as he enjoyed a brief wave of nostalgia.
“But now thanks to Mother Nature I have no oestrogen. No oestrogen equals no hormone fluctuations, no randy feelings, and unfortunately no vagina. I can’t even seem to have a proper orgasm these days; not that I’d want one now anyway. But there’s one good thing about it.”
“You don’t say.” Neil sniffed dismissively and pulled the duvet up around his ears.
Lyn snaked an arm around his waist and whispered into his ear: “I don’t get any periods.”
“Woop-de-doo-dah.”
“I thought you’d be pleased all the PMT has gone now.”
“I’m so pleased that I’m going to jump out of bed in a minute and do a little dance around the room.”
“Don’t think you’ve been spared either. You’re in the dangerous age for a man-o-pause. Everyone knows that. Men your age start to think they’re twenty again. They buy big motorbikes, get tattoos and earrings, and start chasing younger women.”
“Yeah? I can’t wait. When can I start? At least it sounds better than your hot flushes.”
“Hot flushes are not just a woman’s prerogative. I read about it; if a man has a low testosterone level he’ll get hot flushes as well. It’s just nature’s way of trying to bring the levels back up.”
“Low testosterone levels? I’ve got the stuff coming out of my fuckin’ ears!”
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