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Nolan’s warm body close to hers in the king-size bed. She shifted over, nuzzled her head in the hollow of his shoulder and began to rub his chest, running her fingers through the triangle of dark hair. His eyes were closed and his breathing was controlled, not the regular breathing of slumber. When he didn’t speak or move away, she let her hand burrow under the covers and traverse downward to his groin. He was beginning to swell. He murmured softly, finally reaching up to caress her shoulder while she tenderly stroked him to a full erection. He turned over and, kissing her throat, cupping a breast, he pushed inside her. There was some resistance, she wasn’t fully lubricated yet, but within moments he was gliding in and out with ease. She hoped he wouldn’t hurry. There was no reason to rush. It was her birthday and they had all the time in the world.
    She felt the lovely tingling and knew she would make it this time if there were no interruptions and if he’d just go slower. It had been so long. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been sexually fulfilled. It wasn’t Nolan’s fault, it just took her so long. But this morning would be different.
    Her breathing became shallow, heavy. Please, she said to herself, please. So close ... almost there ... almost ...
    He stopped abruptly. Nooo, not yet. She felt him stiffen, and knew that it was over for him. Then he was leaving her, and all erotic feelings seemed to evaporate with the void.
    He patted her shoulder, smiling. “Happy Birthday, Luv.” He rolled over and climbed from the bed.
    A half hour later. Donna critically studied her face in the mirror. She was thirty-nine today. Did she look any older? Completely devoid of makeup, she noticed fine lines around her eyes and mouth. When she smiled they deepened. Her skin had begun to look splotchy over the cheekbones. And was it her imagination, or did her eyes and mouth seem to get smaller with age? One day last week, as she and Nolan viewed the videotape, Nolan had said, “Try to watch how you hold your mouth when you’re not talking, it looks pinched —see there,” he said, pausing the play and nodding at the TV screen.
    Now, looking in the mirror. Donna moved her lips; a smile, then repose. Before Nolan’s remark she hadn’t been conscious of that pinched look. Now it was with her all the time, everywhere. She found herself lifting the corners of her mouth to soften the line, wondering if she looked younger to those around her, or just plain simple-minded?
    Just that morning Nolan had asked her what she thought of cosmetic surgery. Sometimes, unfortunately, he could be so much like her father.
    Reminding herself that her father was coming today to take the boys to a tennis tournament at his club, she abandoned the scrutiny of her face and hurried to get ready.
    An hour later Donna sat on the shaded deck, drinking coffee. Nolan cooked breakfast and the boys served it. He made her a mimosa, and even poured a small amount of champagne in Junior’s and Nigel’s glasses of orange juice.
    After eating she opened her gifts. Junior’s present was a bottle of Evening Jasmine bubble bath. Nolan presented her with a generous gift certificate for Neiman Marcus, and announced that he’d reserved a table — with a view of the bay — at Angelino’s in Sausalito.
    Nigel ran into the house and returned a moment later with a single pale pink geranium —the same color as the ones in the pot on the front porch — and a small tissue-paper package heavily laden with transparent tape.
    “ Did you wrap this yourself?” Donna asked with a tender smile.
    He nodded.
    She carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a stone with a high gloss appearance. On one side was a painted ladybug.
    “ It’s just an everyday rock,” Nigel said, “but I polished it with my rock polisher. Then I painted it.”
    “ It’s beautiful,” she whispered, turning it over in her fingers. “I’ll make it my good luck stone.”
    He seemed to