She lay, elbow on the bed, head propped on her hand looking down at him.
It was impossible, and yet it had happened. Here was the living proof lying beside her and the sperm she could feel in her vagina and the bed redolent of their coupling.
He was asleep now and she reached out and touched his light brown hair as if to reassure herself that he really was there. Then she touched his penis, still warm, wet and sticky with their mingled fluids.
With a sigh she reached out to the bedside table with the tissue box on it. Pulling out a few tissues she held them against her sex organ and reluctantly rose from the bed and made her way to the bathroom and the shower.
He had come into her three times, and as she washed his sperm from her vagina she briefly wished it could have fertilised her. She smiled sadly knowing that she was past the age of giving birth -- or was she? Hadn't she read somewhere of a sixty one year old women giving birth? And what about Sarah in the bible, hadn't she been eighty when she got pregnant?
But she wasn't Sarah, but Sara, and in any case Sarah's pregnancy had been something to do with divine intervention, and the mere fact that the sixty one year old woman's pregnancy had made the news showed that it was an anomaly.
She dried herself and made her way back to the bed and sleeping Robbie. She looked at him and wondered what would happen when he woke in the morning. Would he be disgusted that he had copulated with a woman old enough to be his grandmother?
"What could he possibly want with me?" She asked herself. Fifty two years old, her body no longer having the elasticity of youth, her breasts no longer the firm hemispheres that Dan had enjoyed back then; her "lovely half melons" he had called them; so what could a nineteen year old boy want with her?
Well, she would have to wait until the morning to find out. Her eyelids drooped; it had been an emotional day of grief and then sexual passion. How odd she thought that one emotion could transmute into another.
The world faded and she slept.
* * * * * * * *
Robbie had come into the lives of Sara and Dan at a time when they were very susceptible. Twenty years married and they had not had the children they had longed for. Having tried all that medical science had to offer and they could afford, they had finally concluded that there would be no children. At the time of this, for them, tragic conclusion, Robbie had come into their lives.
They had seen Robbie around often, a pale scrawny boy whose parents were well known in the district as violent alcoholics. There was an older daughter a hopeless drug addict, and what Robbie's life was like in that hell pit of a home, if home it could be called, could only be guessed at.
Robbie had been ten years old when Dan found him crying in the street. Robbie had found a discarded bicycle on the local rubbish tip and had tried to mend it, but it obviously needed new parts that Robbie could not possibly afford.
Dan the maker and mender of many things in his back garden workshop had brought the boy and the bicycle home. There in the workshop, using Dan's collection of spare parts they had repaired the bicycle. He had then brought the boy into the kitchen for a drink and something to eat.
Sara knew a little of his history; how parents of other children told them they must not play with "the boy from that awful family," and how Robbie constantly missed school. Looking at his thin weedy frame and pale face, Sara's heart went out to him.
It might have been expected that Robbie would have taken on the behaviour of his family as many such children do, presenting a cynical and aggressive front to the world around them. This had not happened to Robbie. Instead he had a beaten, hopeless look.
It was this crushed look that had touched Sara most deeply. She had wanted to reach out to him, to hug him and feed him, but it had been Dan who had taken the step.
"Drop by any time I'm here son, there a lot of things we could fix up for you."
Other children might have ignored this offer, but isolated Robbie took full advantage of it. He was often with Dan in the workshop learning how to use the tools and the small lathe and upright drill.
There were other spin-offs from this. Dan explained how he'd never be able to use these things correctly if he didn't go to school and learn to read and write and do arithmetic properly. Robbie took this to heart and started to attend school regularly, and the combination of school and the practical work with Dan saw Robbie start to scrape himself up from the academic floor and gain some success.
Meantime Sara fed him and even bought him some clothes to replace the worn and filthy things he had been wearing.
It is not possible to say that Dan's and Sara's place became a second home for Robbie because it could hardly be said that he had a first home. Whatever the case Robbie began to spend increasing amounts of time with Dan and Sara, and it is no doubt true to say that he became for them the son they had never had.
When Robbie was twelve and Dan and Sara were going off for a fortnight's caravan trip, they wanted to take Robbie with them, Robbie's increasing presence in their home had been a gradually growing process and they had given no thought to contacting Robbie's parents. The caravan holiday was however another matter. Dan went to see Robbie's parents to ask their permission to take Robbie.
His parents were as usual drunk, and at first what Dan was asking did not sink in. When at last they managed to comprehend his father looked bleary eyed at Dan and muttered, "Take the liddle shit where yez like, s'long ash 'esh oud uv our shight."
That seemed to settle the matter and Robbie went on the holiday.
After that Robbie spent most of his time with Dan and Sara, and under Sara's ministrations and good food he gradually ceased to be the weedy kid they had first met, and took on the lineaments, first of a sturdy boy, and then the good looks of a young man.
