I Have Found Perfect Love
Okay, I made it up. Sue me. I can close my eyes, and be in paradise any time I want.
This is what fantasy is about. All people daydream. Some people (myself included) write books or films that are fantastic or magical. Here’s what’s good about fantasy: everything.
Who does not dream of perfect love? Especially in later years, although most of us keep our mouths shut about it. After a lifetime of love’s missteps, love’s disappointments, the dream often claims us more than we want to admit. Jane says:
I started taking the shots and felt certain I noticed smoother, fatter skin and increased energy within a couple of weeks. This was right about the time they kicked John out of his hospital room and established him in the house.
His room was next to mine. In fact, we were set up in a guest suite of two bedrooms with baths, sitting room, and little kitchen. It was our own private nest.
So how could what happened then, not have happened? With the anti-aging shots firing our engines, in a beautiful setting with maid service, with champagne always at the ready, with an enchanted garden for reverie, with a beautiful jungle pond to swim in naked in the moonlight, with the sound of the sea outside the bedroom window…all the elements conspired to make us fall in love.
And those foolish shots... John got stronger and stronger and frankly, so did I. My skin, I swore, was smoother and thicker, my breasts were firmer, and feelings I had ignored for the last many years could no longer be denied.
One night, walking by the pool very late, we suddenly threw off our clothes and jumped into the water. The garden was deserted and everyone was asleep. All that watched us was an insolent moon, which no doubt augmented the mystery. We were overcome. We tried to make it to the room but were unable; so we made do with the soft spot under the banyan tree.
After that love erupted in a raging torrent. They say love is madness and we were the proof. For a while there was no world, no clinic, no family back home, nor any half-truths or broken vows. There was no age, no stream of life beforehand with all its detritus. There was only touch and sensation, as if we were trying to physically get inside each other’s skins. Morning, noon, and night were all fair game and we were oblivious to the reactions of anyone else. Once when we forgot and left the bedroom window open to catch the afternoon breeze, our scandalous moans and cries brought gales of laughter and shouts of encouragement from the gardeners. We became the object of jokes throughout the compound and on one occasion, Tony said to John, “What the hell are you trying to do, fuck yourselves to death?” Angie swore they would have to cut back on the shots.
We ignored them all. The blood was up and we were alive; finally, completely, and indisputably. John stroked my hair, my breasts, and my thighs; he kissed me so hard my lip bled; I bit the skin of his shoulder and when he entered me I thought, I can’t quite tell if I’m living or dying but oh my god bring it on, bring it on.
Sigh….wouldn’t it be loverly? And what the hell, I can go there any time I want.