IT’S OUR SECOND DATE. We talk animatedly over Darjeeling and scones. I’m struggling to focus on his words, distracted by his ocean-blue eyes and wondering what our first kiss will feel like. Suddenly he leans across the table and kisses me slowly and very, very well. The traffic noise disappears. My body quivers with energy. All that exists is this moment, these lips, and focused, intense, erotic pleasure.
Fast-forward ten years.
We are making love. It’s…okay. We go through the routine—I touch him here, he strokes me there. I’m remembering the time we had hot sex on the ferry on our way to a meditation retreat, and he’s probably
