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Charlotte wonders if the contented old-lady image she’s comfortable with is less like Opie Taylor’s Aunt Bea and more like her grandmother’s idol, Mae West. Charlotte begins to explore the sexual pasts of women almost no one notices–lollies toting shopping bags huddled in the back of the bus, humped-back grannies fumbling for their checkbooks in the grocery line–faceless barricades among the harried crowds rushing past. Could these invisible souls once have been beauty queens, models, call girls who entertained celebrities in penthouse suites? Maybe even Mafia arm candy, closet lesbians or S&M mavens? And just what do they see when the lights go out at night? Are their rooms filled with visions of lost lovers, heart-thudding trysts and deviant pleasures no one would suspect they’d ever known looking at their dowager humps and varicose veins?
Revealing secrets from their youth, their stories pierce the veil of silence society attaches to women beyond their sexual prime. Charlotte’s queries unlock spiced reminiscences not linked to senior citizens in our culture. In an environment where explicit, raunchy sex is slapped in our faces a hundred times a day through advertising, product display and entertainment, these women’s sexual identities are shadowed in anonymity.
Eroticism and romantic passion smolder in the ashes of old age until the last little flicker of flame finally dies with dementia or death. Stories of wife-swapping, prostitution, rape, bawdy beddings, soulful regret and marital bliss encourage all of us not yet across that threshold to look up from the daily grind and catch the scent of adventure. They urge us to dive off the edge of our nine-to-five lives and risk the thrill of sexual intrigue before our beds are cold and carnal tempests visit only in our dreams.
