“Do me? Since when do you do me?” Annie’s hand retreated from between Jane’s legs. She pecked her on the cheek. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but, um, things are pretty dry down there. I couldn’t have gotten a finger in, even if you wanted me to, which I suspect you didn’t really want in the first place.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

“We have plenty of lube.” Annie’s voice was soft.

Jane didn’t know what to say—or perhaps didn’t want to face the consequences of what Annie had just said. “But… that’s your lube.”

Jane painted a small smile on her lips. “It’s very much our lube, honey.” She paused. “You know why I need it.”

“I’m only forty-five,” Jane said on a sigh.

“If you repeat that sentence and omit the word ‘only’ it makes perfect sense.” Annie caressed Jane’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” She knew very well what Annie meant. She’d gone through it with her, albeit when Annie was a few years older than forty-five.

“It’s nature. It’s nothing for you to feel bad about.”

“I don’t feel bad. Well, maybe I do. I don’t know. This may sound silly, but I used to get so wet.”

“I know, but luckily we live in the twenty-first century and we have at our disposal a great range of lubrication products which we can order on the internet from the privacy of our home. It doesn’t have to change that much.”

“It’s not just that, though.” The next bit was even harder to say. “I just, er, wasn’t feeling it that much.”

“If you remember my stints in the throes of peri- and then full-blown menopause, that is also perfectly normal. I’ve been there. I understand. So don’t exasperate yourself any further by feeling guilty about it. Everything you’re going through is perfectly normal.”

Jane made a mental note to google whether peri-menopause also influenced intellectual performance. Maybe it wasn’t her writing ability that was dwindling. Maybe it was bloody menopause—and all she needed to fix it was a shot of hormones.

“But I haven’t fulfilled my natural destiny yet.” Jane needed to lighten the atmosphere in the room with a joke. “I haven’t produced any children. And now my eggs are shriveling up.”

A laugh bubbled in Annie’s throat. “Yes well, you’re not alone in that either. We have both failed in that respect.” She snuggled closer to Jane again. “How about we go to Zuma and treat ourselves to a buffet brunch of expensive sushi and mimosas to celebrate our failure to meet society’s expectations?”

“How about we stay home and I make us a stack of pancakes instead?” Jane pressed herself against Annie’s still-warm skin.