" The flesh was weak, but it was not dumb. It had its own animal intelligence. In her husband's bed her body had felt like dead clay, but it had come back to life this morning in the apple grove.
How had she forgotten such pleasure? It invigorated the senses and enlarged the lungs. Riding through the meadow, the air had tasted richer and the brush of his worsted jacket against her bare wrist had riveted her whole awareness. Even her silent, inward turmoil had felt bittersweet to her. "

― Meredith Duran , At Your Pleasure