The following excerpt is from my novel Each Angel Burns. In this scene, Gabe Hawking and Maggie Marceau, two people in their fifties, come together at last:
For on this night the room is graced with two lovers entwined. No longer young, these lovers drift in grateful awe that life has not forgotten them but brought them together at this time when they had thought such possibility long gone—a gift for the young, not for two who have traveled this far down life’s road. He holds her body against his. Big work-roughened hands move down the curve of her back and over hips and thighs and up over the softness of breasts that are no longer those of a girl but are exquisite to his touch. She wraps her legs around his hips, still narrow and strong, despite the cushioned abdomen they support. He moves slowly, as slowly as it is possible to move in such abandon. In youth they might have danced the frenzied dance to shuddering release but now they are older and know that release brings separation. They will not be separated. Her desire for him takes his breath away. His cherishing of her comforts her heart. She places her hands on his face and lifts it just enough so he can see her eyes and how they glitter with the gratitude she feels for him. He kisses her and sinks into her like warm silvery rain on pungent earth. They are long past the age of creating a new life. Instead they have created renewed life, each for the other.