In my mind’s eye, I could see the ecstatic looks on the face of the pretty naked female as her lean, handsome, virile lover makes his erotic manoeuvre down her slim moist body. I can feel him kissing her throat and breasts, licking her belly button, slowly mouthing her body as his lust takes him further and further south to where my imagination is being led. Although the lover’s dark curly head disappears from the screen, the girl’s expressive face, her sighs and moans, tell me that he’s reached his target for tonight. Mm, hot stuff on late night television and highly informative too.

     I suppose it’s natural for an oldie like me to be continually getting pictures in my mind of an hourglass with the sands of time running out, and to get thoughts of what is and what might have been. I contemplated my forty-five years as Roger’s faithful, loving wife and of my devotion to our four sons and their ten children. Some would say, it had been a happy and fruitful existence and they would be right, but I knew something had always been missing in my marriage and it was causing me an inner restlessness.

     Television had opened my eyes to the ecstatic joy that was possible from sexual encounters. Writhing in the pleasure of oral delights was something totally unknown in my experience. And I was being constantly amazed at the full-throttle intercourse that produced shouts of ecstasy from both of the partners, and it set me wondering why it had never been so for me. I began feeling a sense of loss for what I had never known. There was no doubting Roger’s orgasmic pleasure from our nuptials; surely it was time for me to experience similar rapturous joys from our union?

     I resolved to discuss sexual matters with Roger and let him know how I was feeling about our love life. But I knew it would be difficult to talk to a man who thinks he knows it all and who has forty-five years of marriage under his belt and four sons to prove his masculinity.

     I was sitting with Roger while mending his work-shirts. They needed the frayed collars turning. He would be happy to go on wearing his old clothes for messing about in until they dropped off his back, but I have some pride even if his is in short supply. The least I can do is to make sure his rags are neatly held together.

     As I tried, for the umpteenth time, to get the thread through the needle eye, I casually asked him, “What do you think about all this sex on television?”

     Either he didn’t hear me or he was avoiding the question. Since he was doing his usual trick of watching a documentary whilst studiously reading one of his journals, I decided to ask him again but a little louder.

     “Roger. Do you think there’s too much sex on television?”

     “You don’t have to shout, I’m not the one who needs a hearing aid,” he said testily, looking up to watch an excavation going on in an ancient burial ground.

     “Then answer my question.”

     “What was it?”

     “Sex, what do you think of it?”

     “Sex? We’ve been doing it for forty-five years; I don’t have to think about it. Isn’t it time we had our drinks?” He went back to reading about the latest in engineering technology.

     “It’s only half past nine,” I protested. I tried a different tack. “Unless you want to go to bed early,” I said, in what I hoped to be a sexy voice. I wanted to stir something in his pants even if I couldn’t reach his loftier mind.

     “No, there’s an interesting programme on after the news bulletin. But I’ll have my chocolate now,” he muttered; now concentrating on the bits of old bones being carefully examined by experts. “Just look at that,” he said intrigued, “a ritual murder. Spike straight between the legs — fascinating!”

     I gave up. His mind was on other things, even if not totally unrelated. Apart from which the horrible killing had put me off. I would have to do something to draw his attention to what we were missing, but how?

     Roger may be approaching seventy but he’s far from being old and decrepit, although dressing like a tramp around the house and garden may suggest otherwise. He’s a very active person and always has been. He’s continually engaged in improvements to the house and keeping the garden in good nick. He has his clubs and societies and is an officer or member of various committees. He enjoys going to lectures on any engineering subject and helps organise many of them. He plays a mean game of bowls and fills up the rest of his time in his extensive workshop. Between all these activities he makes sure the weekly crossword is completed and his entry form filled out for that prize which constantly eludes him. Hence, the difficulty of my task. But I’ve always been a determined woman when things are important to me.

     Convincing Roger of what was missing in our marriage was going to need cunning as well as tact. Concentrating on physical impact, I decided to try suggestive undies that ‘temptingly reveal the path to erotic satisfaction’ or so I was led to believe from an advertisement. I let the matter brew in my mind overnight.

     In the morning, I walked to a specialist shop in town armed with twenty pounds. After a brief look in their window, I decided to draw another thirty pounds out of our building society account. While waiting with my pass book, I changed my mind. Fifty pounds was a lot of money that would keep me in knickers for years. But the whole point of buying new undies was to lure Roger into removing them. Determined to succeed at this self-appointed objective, I withdrew one hundred pounds, and with a deep sense of guilt at my extravagance, I returned to the lingerie shop to view their collection of gorgeous lacy tempters.

     A smart middle-aged well-corseted lady came along to see if I needed assistance.

     “I’m just looking for something pretty for a friend,” I cheerfully lied.

     She fixed me with her beaming smile. “Was it something in particular? For a special occasion maybe?”

     “She’s feeling a little depressed,” I lied, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “She thinks her husband is going astray and she wants to lure him back.”

     The assistant nodded knowingly. “I quite understand, madam, it’s a common problem. What size is your friend?”