Claire Morgan was fifty-two years old and still a virgin.
He was not ashamed of it.s. But that didn’t mean I’d never wished for a man.
There were nights when she slept alone wondering what would happen if she finally stopped restraining herself. If, even once, you allowed a man to hug her, kiss her and let herself enjoy feeling desired without immediately worrying about the next morning.
Claire had desires, too.
Sometimes, very intense.
But when I was young, a promise had been made:
Her first time would never be with a man who wished her body more than her.
Claire had never considered her face to be especially beautiful, but her body always caught the eye. Even in discreet clothing, it was difficult to hide his chest and curves.
At twenty, the eyes of men made her feel attractive.
Over time she learned that being desired and being loved were two completely different things.
A man pretended to be seriously interested in her for two months and then became angry when Claire refused to sleep with him.
“How long am I supposed to wait?” he demanded.
Another said:
“With a body like yours, why do you make everything so complicated?”
Experiences thus caused Claire to hold on to her promise even more.
I didn’t want to just lose my virginity.
I wanted to choose the man who would be the first.
But at fifty-two, even Claire was beginning to get tired of waiting.
Her closest friends — Vanessa, Laura and Michelle — never missed a chance to joke with her.
A virgin of fifty-two years? That’s almost historic.
“If I had your body, I would have forgotten what the word ‘virgin’ means years ago.
Claire laughed at them.
Then he came home and wondered if maybe they were right.
That’s when Adam showed up.
He was fifty-five years old, calm, divorced and completely different from the men Claire had met before.
I listened to her.
I never rushed her.
After his first date, he didn’t even ask him to enter his house.
And the first time he kissed her, he stopped and asked quietly:
“Do you want me to continue?”
Claire couldn’t sleep that night.
Because for the first time, a man’s kiss hadn’t made her feel pressured.
I had made him want more.
Over the next few weeks, that desire grew.
