Jessie and I were both forty-five, parents of four wonderful kids, devoted to one another, as sexually motivated as when we were in our late twenties,...more discreet, because the kids were old enough to know when Mom and Dad were doin’ it. It had been a struggle, at first, I’d explained to Jessie what I’d experienced, in childhood and beyond. She knew I’d been accused of being abortion fodder, and had lost a child similarly. She’d comforted me, soothed me, ensured me we’d be fine from then on.. My hips slowed as I sensed Steve was close to coming. I didn’t want to end it before he had a chance to look in my eyes. I wanted to give him a final chance, to test him a final time. I let our eyes connect wanting him to see my pain, wanting him to understand. If he could see it, see my pain, then perhaps anything was possible; even “us”? Yet he was oblivious? Perhaps this is the nature of men when they are having sex, they don’t see the woman’s pain? I don’t know? I was lost in my own obtuse. More

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