Lou and I have been happily married for 35 years. (I’m 57 and he’s 61.)

We live in an eight-unit condo that keeps residents in close contact, which has its good points and not-so-good points.

Take our next-door neighbors, Stef and Rick, a 40-something interracial couple (she’s white and he’s black), plus Rick’s 20-year-old son from a previous marriage, Mack. We always got on fine. Then one Saturday afternoon a month and a half ago, when I was home by myself, the doorbell sounded and through the peephole I saw the young man, Mack, holding two cans of beer.

I let him in and invited him to have a seat on the sofa. I have to explain that Mack is simply gorgeous, with the body of a god, all beautiful rippling muscle. I admit that I had always loved just looking at him. He gave... Read More