When I Sixty Four Novels & Stories

June said. I loved June and how she made everywhere funnier when she had had a sip of her daily dose of coffee. She was standing in between my mom and dad and smiling at them. I could tell Dad was uncomfortable but he deserved the little torture for everything he has done to Min and I. Min might have let it slide by inviting Dad to my birthday but I'll need more than him coming here for me to forgive everything he's done.

I asked, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. "Yes, alive, and with three grown-up pups and many grandpups!" She sounded so happy, and I couldn’t help but feel hopeful as well. He lived long enough to see his grandpups. "How old is he?" I asked. "Sixty-five…" "Oh, Goddess!" I exclaimed before soft sobs escaped my throat as my body shook. There was hope. Sixty-five is a good number, and I would take it if that was the farthest Darvin could reach. I would take it wholeheartedly.

No, I’m here because my vibrator’s gotten boring, because the last time I came, I had to imagine some faceless guy from a dating app just to get there, and even then, it was half-hearted. I’m Forty years old, bright red hair that still turns heads, and what do I have to show for it? A king-size bed that stays too cold on one side and a nightstand drawer full of silicone cocks that doesn’t talk back. Tonight, I want something warm. Something that breathes.

Turned it slowly. Sixty days. And I was already missing things that had not ended yet.

"Getting old is hell. Everything hurts all the time." "You're sixty-two, not ninety," I pointed out. "In this business, sixty-two is ancient," Viktor replied. He took a sip of his vodka. "Most men in our world don't live past fifty. The fact that I'm still breathing is either a miracle or a curse. I haven't decided which." "Why are you up?" Natasha asked.

"So, make me a deal. When I look at, and feel, and caress, and kiss your body I will only see you at sixty and when you do anything with me you see the me that is here now; sixty years old too." "You're sixty?" "Yes. I turned sixty last November. The body may not look great but everything works OK. Now, can I finish getting us dry?" Colleen nodded. I dried her and then myself. We walked into the bedroom and stood at the foot of the king sized bed. "Another adventure." "Yes. Isn't that what you want?" "Yes. What's next?" "Remember kissing?"

The summer Adrian turned sixty-three was not the last good summer. He had decided that and said it at breakfast in June with the firmness of someone making a correction rather than a wish, and nobody disagreed because Adrian had always been right about the things that mattered and there was no reason to start doubting him now.

"That too." He chuckles. For a long moment, we simply sit together. Then he looks at me with gentle eyes. "So..." I already know what's coming. "So…?" "When exactly are you planning to stop making that poor girl wonder where she belongs?" I stare at him. He smiles knowingly. "I've watched her all evening." "She's terrified." My chest tightens. "Terrified of what?" "That Day Sixty will come..." He pauses. "...and you'll let her walk away."