This story is actually an excerpt from my first novel, My Life with Michael: A Story of Sex and Beer for the Middle-Aged, currently out on query. The piece has been heavily modified to make it self-contained, but the theme is essentially the same as that of my book: how aging changes our view of sex and romance and the people with whom we want to share those things.
It’s a cute story, I think; one of my sweeter pieces. Many of my romantic short stories carry an undertone of heartache (it’s only my erotica that’s funny), and it amuses me to have written something so light and fluffy, almost as if I were becoming sentimental myself in my old age. Shh, don’t tell anyone!