Librarian Louisa Greene has lived a quiet life among the muted bookstacks of her working days. Now she is retired she wonders what her legacy might be and what to do with all the thoughts she never spoke into her quiet world. In this gently satirical flash fiction novella, the character LG, a single childless woman of a certain age, finds the courage to share with you the reader, all the things she thought, but never dared say. She hopes it might encourage you to do the same. Read Ep 1 here. and Ep 3 here.
2.
Louisa Greene doesn’t really miss physical intimacy with another being. Well that’s a lie. She just doesn’t miss all the stuff that goes with it — all the things you have to agree to, to get the things you think you want from another warm, living, breathing, human being.
Louisa Greene remembers all her long ago intimate moments fondly.
Like
when a lover once reached across the table to brush the hair from her eyes
or took her arm as they walked together down the street
or casually nudged her shoulder as they browsed best sellers in their favourite bookshop
Louisa Greene remembers all the special intimate moments of her life and to her surprise it seems she can count them all on two hands. Surely she has missed some— surely she has censored, filtered, sorted, leaving only the most memorable. Surely in a long luscious life of six or is it seven and some decades, she has had more intimate moments than ten!
These days she gets them mostly from medical men, whose impressive qualifications and awards line the walls of their rooms. Though there’s usually only one room and it always mystifies her why the receptionist uses the plural ‘we’ when she answers the phone in her perky ‘don’t mess with me or you’ll go to the back of the queue’ voice.
Louisa Greene doesn’t visit her medical men often, usually once a year, unless there has been an extra important reason to call her in…
He opens the door and greets her as if it was only yesterday they last spoke and after a bit of chat and throwing of her most intimate x-ray pics up on a light box, invites her to go behind the curtain and strip to the waist. There he begins a tender annual ritual— a slow, section by section rolling, pressing and stroking of her mammary organs, in a way no other human has done before, or she fears, will do again. And then when finished, as he rests his hand on her shoulder for the longest second he gives a little tap and a smile. ‘All fine’, says her breast man as he turns back to his desk. ‘All fine.’
That’s the problem with intimacy, she thinks as she bends down to gather up her clothes, it never lasts long enough, and you are always left wanting more.
Lucky for Louisa, in a good year, there are a number of other appointments to attend.
There’s
the full body treatment from the skin cancer doc as he moves his hands across all her bare surfaces, brazenly shining his special light into her bra and panties, searching for the mole that got away.
the lung specialist, a new addition, who visited her every day when she was in the hospital after getting pneumonia during the last big flu epidemic and wants to see her again as often as possible.
her dentist of twenty seven years for whom Louisa has recently again been opening wide, so wide that she feels like she is practicing giving deep throat, only there’s a dental dam in the way.
There’s the eye man, the osteo, the acupuncturist, the pathology nurse, the masseuse, the podiatrist, the physio, not to mention the G.P.
Yes, intimacy for Louisa is a little complicated now she is of a certain age. Menopause was fine, she had sailed through with no problems and was relieved to be no longer ruled by her rabid monthly cycles. Libido was down, yes, but something else had happened. How she is not quite sure, but one evening when she was pleasuring herself (with her fantasy half man, half orang-utan, Uncle Furry helping out), she discovered she could reach orgasm not just once, but many times. She would have kept going all night but in the end her hand seized up with cramps and she had to stop. She was so thrilled that the next day she almost told her gentleman friend Frank, but then changed her mind, wondering what he might do with such a piece of information.
Gentleman friend? Frank?
That’s a story for next time…
(C) Jan Cornall 2024.
Glad to hear your hospital visit went well, wishing you more smooth days of healing ahead.
And as for Louisa’s intimacy with doctors?! Oh how I can relate! Love hearing her brazen, self-satisfied voice and look forward to more.
Well written and enjoyable, this Louisa Greene' musing... Keep it up, Jan ! 😀