Irish Sex Fairy: Ellora's Cave

“You go and have fun.”
“Well. If you’re sure…”
“I’m fine, Maeve.” Unfortunately, Maeve now seemed protective and worried about her. Just like her friends. “Really.”
So after a quick dinner, Maeve disappeared with a wave, leaving Keara alone in the apartment. It was the first time she’d been alone—meaning the entire building was empty, not just alone in the apartment with Maeve downstairs—and Keara was acutely aware of it. Knowing there was an alarm system protecting the shop helped. She locked the door at the top of the stairs behind Maeve and turned to the small living room.
She’d lived alone for many years and it had never bothered her.
The television provided welcome background noise and she flicked through the channels until she found an episode of Sex and the City. With a smile, she recalled Shane’s comment about her life in LA. She shook her head. Maeve may think her niece was living a sexually liberated single-girl lifestyle like that, but that was wishful thinking on her part.
Maeve. She sighed, her attention diverted from the show she’d seen before by worry about Maeve. Lots of older people had problems with memory. Was it considered a natural part of aging?
Keara’s parents had died the year she’d graduated from college, in a car crash on the freeway. She still missed them, although the pain of their tragic death had faded, but at this moment she longed for another family member to share this burden with. Her friends were great, but they couldn’t help her with this. Alone, responsibility for Maeve weighed heavily on her. Even someone to talk to, to ask questions of, would help.
Maeve had always been there for her, in the background, and although Keara hadn’t seen her much, they talked on the telephone occasionally, emailed and sent cards. Now Keara was going through a personal crisis, she’d turned to Maeve, only to find that Maeve had problems of her own.
Maybe. She still didn’t know how serious it was. But if Shane was worried too, enough to talk to her about it, it was more than just a vague uneasiness at a couple of forgotten conversations. And Keara had no idea what to do about it.
She hadn’t anticipated something like this when she’d decided to come stay with Maeve. Selfishly, she’d only been thinking about herself and her own problems and trying to get better, hoping that staying with someone would ease her twitchy nerves, and instead she just had one more burden, one more thing to worry about and…dammit, one more thing to feel guilty about.

Chapter Six
Dragging herself out of bed the next morning proved very difficult. Keara had just fallen asleep last night when Maeve got home, and although Maeve had been quiet, Keara’s paranoid ears picked up every little sound. She’d had to get out of bed to assure herself it was Maeve, and then she’d lain there staring at the ceiling for an hour, wide awake. She’d finally gotten up and read a book for a while, but when the alarm clock went off at eight she was dead to the world and awoke groggy and disoriented.
And eight o’clock wasn’t even early! Usually she was up at six thirty to get ready for work and drive the commute on the busy freeway to her bank branch.
She forced herself to have a shower even though it seemed like way too much bother, and for what? Nobody cared if her hair was greasy or her legs were furry. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and went down to the shop where Maeve was already at work even though the store didn’t open until ten o’clock.
“Good morning!” Maeve greeted her with a sunny smile, which faded when she took in Keara’s appearance. “My goodness, you look terrible.” She stood up from behind the desk in her office and moved toward Keara, studying her face. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”
Keara shook her head. “No. I couldn’t get back to sleep after you got home.”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, muirnín!” She clasped her hands together in front of her face.
“It’s not your fault.”
“But I feel terrible! I woke you and then you couldn’t sleep…”
“It’s okay, Maeve. That’s the way it is for me. You can’t change your whole routine for me.”
“Oh.” Her eyes gleamed with distress. “Well. What else could we do about it?”
“The doctor gave me a prescription for some antianxiety medication or antidepressants or something, but I don’t want to take them if I don’t have to.”
Maeve’s brows dipped. “No, I understand that. I agree it’s better not to take drugs if you don’t have to…but you must get some sleep, muirnín.”
“I know.” Keara sighed and sipped her coffee. “It’s so frustrating. The more I tell myself I have to get to sleep, the wider awake I feel. My mind just won’t stop going around in circles, remembering stuff, thinking how…”
“What?”
Keara waved a hand. “Nothing. Never mind. Maybe I should just take the pills.”
“You don’t need pills. What you need is sex.” Maeve returned to her seat behind her desk.
Keara choked on her coffee.
“Sex is the best cure for depression and insomnia,” Maeve continued. “Now don’t give me that look. I’m not pulling your leg. Sex releases endorphins into the bloodstream, producing a sense of euphoria and a feeling of well-being. An orgasm releases oxytocin, which helps with sleep. It’s the safest tranquilizer in the world. It also relieves headaches by releasing the tension that restricts blood vessels in the brain.”
Keara rubbed the back of her neck. She did have a headache.
“Well, I’m sure that’s true,” she said. “But I don’t have a partner handy at the moment, so…”
“Well, you don’t necessarily need a partner. There is self-gratification, too. Let’s go look at the vibrators out front…”
“No!”
“Why not? Keara, I’m serious. It could help you.”
“I’m just…” Wildly uncomfortable having this conversation with her great-aunt? “I’m not interested in sex right now. That’s the last thing I feel like doing. I’m…tired.”
“You won’t be so tired after sex,” Maeve