Works/Dewey and Her

1. Invertigogo

"I'm serious," she said. "Tell me all of them. I mean, what's the weirdest you've had? Doggy-style? A little sixty-nine? Upside-down? Or do you just mean you actually had sex when you were sober once?"

She looked at Scott hard enough to pin him against the wall, and I knew he had lost his last chance.

You have to feel a little sorry for a guy like that. He'd been trying to get into bed with M's friend ever since she started showing up for our little bull-fests, but he never caught on that the usual Scott approach wouldn't work with her. Actually it kind of amazed me that it ever worked on anyone, but hey, M keeps telling me I need to be a little bit more of an asshole, so what do I know?

M was trying hard not to grin. Scott forgets she's a girl sometimes, I think, but even he could see he wasn't going to get any help there. "Dewey?" he said. I shrugged.

M's friend - Scott doesn't give a damn what stories I tell about him, but the ladies might. Let's call her L. "Come on," L said. "You don't want me to think that was all bullshit. Do you?"

"No! I mean, yeah, I've done it from behind, sure ... and, um, okay, I only had a sixty-nine once. And I had a girlfriend who liked to be on top ...."

"C'mon, Scott, even I don't think that's strange," I said.

He gave me the "whose side are you on?" face. "But, y'know, there's only so many ways you can do it, right? I mean, nobody really has sex upside down or standing on one leg or any of that Kama Sutra crap."

"Oh, really?" L said. "Depends on how limber you are, doesn't it?"

"Okay. Fine. Tell me you've had sex upside down," Scott said. "Make me believe it."

"Well, no. But unlike some people, I don't say it's impossible just because I haven't done it."

"Don't make me separate you two," I said.

"Okay," M said, and I winced. I know when M's about to make trouble. It's the sound in her voice. "This sounds like a bet to me."

"M ..."

"Oh, come on, Dewey, they're grown-ups. L tries to find a way for you two to have sex while upside down. If you manage it, L gets to be right but Scott gets a new story to tell. If L finally decides it can't be done, Scott gets to be right but L doesn't have to have sex with him. So it's win-win."

"Hey!" Scott said.

"Um," L said.

And M grinned that nasty Cheshire cat smile. "You don't want me to think you're both full of shit. Do you?"

"How in hell did you get me into this?" Maybe it was just the phone, but Scott's voice sounded higher than usual. Was he that nervous? Maybe he was practicing dangling by the knees.

"I didn't get you into this. M did. Blame her."

"I tried."

"She laughed at you."

"Yeah. And if I don't do this, I'll hear about it for the rest of my life. Trapezes! That crazy bitch wants me to make like a circus act!"

"I dunno, Scott. Like M said, you'll have a great story to tell."

"Right," he snarled, and hung up. Not two minutes later the phone rang again.

"Dewey?"

"Hi, L. What's up? You know Scott's freaking out, right?"

"Yeah, I got that. That's kinda why I'm calling."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Look, there has to be evidence, right? Somebody or something has to witness the bet. Or Scott'll just say he showed up and nothing happened."

"He wouldn't do that. I don't think. Okay, maybe. So you want to take a photo?"

"No. I thought about that, but changed my mind. I think there should be a witness -"

"No way in hell."

"Aw, c'mon, Dewey. Think about it - you'll have dirt on Scott forever!"

"Doesn't work. He likes people to tell stories like that on him; that's how you got into this in the first place, remember? Besides, he'd never let me sit in a room and watch him have sex. Not even right-side-up."

"You won't be in the same room."

"Huh?"

"See, that's the thing - I don't think it'd be a good idea to have someone watching where Scott can see either. He's nervous enough already. But there's a place you can watch without him knowing. You'll understand when you see the space."

"Geez, that's almost worse. Why not just get like a video camera or something and tape the show?"

"I don't think I want hard evidence that I had sex with Scott. I might accidentally play it later and scare myself."

"You're a harsh woman, L."

Don't get me wrong, I like Scott, or I wouldn't still be hanging out with him after all these years. I really did think L was being kinda rough. Scott's a jerk sometimes, sure, and he brags on himself a lot, but under that he's a nice guy.

You say, yeah, but you're a guy too, what do you know? Okay ... but M didn't have a problem hanging out with him either, as far as I could tell. Of course, with M it's hard to tell much of anything.

"This is not what I was expecting," I said to L when I arrived.

"You wanted something more exotic?" she said. "Sometimes it is, I guess, but people bring their own toys. They hold regular play parties here."

"Play parties, huh? That's one way to say it." I wandered around. The room had thick, soft padded walls - they looked like they were quilted - and a heavy door, heavy enough to stay closed by its own weight, with no lock, padded the same way. No windows, but one wall was mirrored starting about halfway up. About half the floor was covered with what looked like a mammoth futon, several inches thick, very soft. And five feet over the futon hung two trapezes, with cushioned crossbars, parallel and a little more than a foot apart.

"This place used to be a recording studio," she said. "Each of these rooms is soundproof and has its own booth. But the glass where the booth looks into the room has been replaced with one-way stuff."

"Behind that mirror. Why'd I agree to do this again?"

"Because you're a nice guy," she said, kissing me on the forehead. "Now get in there and keep the door shut. He'll be here any minute."

I left the room and used the next door, stepping up into a small room with a couple of rolling chairs and a big window. It had a slanted countertop which was bare except for a microphone and a button with a small handwritten sign: PUSH TO SPEAK TO PLAYROOM. Through the speaker in one wall I could hear the soft sighing of L doing stretching exercises. She was thorough if nothing else.

She turned to the door, presumably to look down the hall. "Back here!" she shouted. Scott walked slowly into view a minute or two later.

"Um, look, L," he said. "We don't have to do this. I mean, I see the setup you've got here, you were right, you don't have to actually -"

"Oh, come on," she replied. "I thought you wanted to get into my pants. This is your chance." She pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. She hadn't been wearing a bra. She had tan lines. I was being way too observant. Jump back, boy.

"Yeah, but -"

"I don't want to have to tell people you got cold feet, Scott," she said, moving up next to him and sort of rubbing her tits against him. "C'mon. I know you can do it." She unbuckled his belt. Uh-huh. Who was it that didn't want to admit to having sex with whom?

"Um, lemme get out of my shoes first." I swear he was blushing as he took off his shoes and socks - though he was leaning over. I'm probably imagining it. He stepped out of his jeans hesitantly, while L slithered out of her shorts and panties, pulling them both down her legs with one motion. He froze for a few seconds, just watching her. Well, I was watching her too.

Gradually he got it together enough to pull off the rest of his clothes. "Now what?"

"Let's go hang out together," she said.

"Very funny. How do I - whoa." L had grabbed one of the trapezes and flipped herself over, hooking the trapeze by her knees. She grinned at him, long hair dangling low enough to barely touch the futon. "Didn't you ever play on the monkey bars as a kid?" She flipped again and got down.

"I'll hold this trapeze over here so you don't get tangled in the wrong one," she said, pulling away one of them. He walked over, grabbed the other trapeze and half-dangled below it, then swung himself up onto it without too much trouble.

"Okay," he said. "Man, the blood's rushing to my head already."

"Maybe that'll make it more interesting," she said. "Hold real still; I don't want to slam into you while I get up." She flipped onto her trapeze carefully, came to rest nearly nose-to-nose with Scott. "Hi," she said, grinning again.

"You're too into this," he said.

"New adventures, right? Let me see if I can get you more into it. Or do you want to do it yourself? Wow, I didn't know you got embarrassed. Aw. C'mere." She swung forward enough to hug him with one arm, pulling their bodies together. They swung back and forth a tiny amount, joined by her hug.

Every time they moved a little, her breasts rubbed against his chest. Their height was evened out by their position; he was taller but it was all in the calves. Her nipples were right on top of his. Her other hand played with his penis. "You can touch me, you know," she said. "This is no time to be shy."

"Um -" He put an arm around her. "I don't really have room to reach anything."

"Oh, you can get a hand in." She stopped playing with him for a second and pulled his free hand between her legs. "Try right there. Mmmh. Not too hard. You, on the other hand -" she went back to her work - "we want as hard as we can get."

"Yeah, that's nice," he said. "Okay."

"Oh, you like that? Seems like it. Ooh - don't stop what you're doing, though."

"I think I'm getting dizzy."

"Let's try for the gold, then. I think you're ready. This'll be a little tricky. I'm gonna have to brace myself against you to get where I need to be. Hold on. No, no, don't swing if you can avoid it. Almost in ... there." She exhaled. "How's that?"

"Wow." Ah, Scott - poetry in the soul. I probably wouldn't have been able to do much better in the same spot.

"Gonna be hard to - um - you know, thrust ..." he said.

"Don't bother!"

"Huh?"

"Hold me tight and rock!"

As they held each other, she swayed back and forth, pulling him into the same rhythm, and gradually the trapezes begin to swing together, in wider and wider arcs. Each time they hit L's end of the swing, she'd gasp a little bit. "Not ... too much more swing ... we don't want you to come out ..."

"Uh."

"Don't let go!"

Scott had his eyes closed. Do all men make that face during sex that looks like they're constipated? L was breathing in time with the swings, concentrating, her body shifting against his every time they passed through the center of the motion, trying to press her hips tightly against a body continually wanting to swing free.

She mostly had her eyes closed too, but at one point she turned her head toward me and opened them, looked straight at me. She wasn't focused on me, but she was thinking about me sitting there watching and - to my surprise - sweating. And she knew. She knew as well as if she could see me through the mirror.

I should have guessed her real reasons for wanting a witness.

I had thought about unzipping my jeans and playing the home version of our show, but right then it felt like I'd be losing some contest I hadn't even known I'd entered.

"I'm -" Scott said.

"I know," she replied. "Keep going!"

He sighed loudly - like he wasn't just coming, but deflating too - and she broke into low laughter, in the back of her throat. Not malicious. I don't think.

They slowed down the swing, tensing to a stop, and she carefully disengaged.

"Hold on and I'll get out of your way," she said, flipping herself off her trapeze. She made a little gasp as she landed. He dismounted more stiffly.

"Come stand over here. They try to keep people from dripping on the pads, I should have put a cover on. There's a shower at the end of the hall."

"But, well - you -" Scott was still too stunned for English.

"Don't worry," she said, kissing him on the forehead the way she had me. It was the first time she'd kissed him during the whole spectacle. "You did great. I have some cleaning up to do in here, so don't wait for me."

She sent him down the hall, then started to push something. My range of vision was just enough for me to figure out that she was shoving the heavy door closed.

Then she walked back into view and flipped herself back onto her trapeze again.

Sighing, she began to rock back and forth until she was swinging gently. Once she was happy with the motion, she closed her eyes and put both hands between her legs, cupping one over the other. I saw her fingers begin to move, and her breathing grew more ragged.

I didn't know whether she'd forgotten me, or worse, whether she hadn't. I got up, went over to the door, opened it a little and peered out. The shower was still running. I hurried down the hall and left the building.

As it turns out, I never had to worry about what Scott would think of my watching him. The subject never came up. Scott didn't talk about his sexual exploits as much after that. M noticed this and teased him about it - but only once. And L didn't really join us for bull sessions after that. She showed up a couple of times and then stopped coming.

I heard from M a few months later that L was dating someone she'd met at one of those play parties. They're still together. Sometimes I want to be a fly on the wall, behind a one-way mirror.

Other times the idea scares me.

2. Double Bed

"I'd date myself," I said.

"Of course you would, M," replied Dewey with his crooked smile, the one that meant he was about to pull my chain. "You'd lie on the sofa together and do nothing but have sex all day!"

"Damn straight," I said. "And I'd love it! Oh, yeah, I'd date myself in an instant."

"Well, in my case I'd have a problem 'cause I just don't see too many men I'd be interested in," he replied. "But even if it was, like, a female version of me - no. Wouldn't work. We'd get in all kinds of fights. We'd both want to start stirring up shit when we got bored."

Dewey likes to kick himself in the ass. I don't know if he was born like that or his self-image fell in the toilet somewhere along the way. He thinks of himself as this evil nasty cynical hermit creature. It's a load of crap. Or why would he be on his fourth beer, talking about sex with me? Again?

"No, I mean it," he said, looking at my expression. "Okay, whatever you think of me, you know I like having arguments for the hell of it. Or why would I be having this conversation?"

I laughed, but didn't tell him what was so funny.

The problem with monogamy isn't quality - if it is, then you're doing something wrong, that's my take. It isn't even always quantity. It's more like availability. You know, you decide to go with a single source, and what happens if that source isn't around? I'm a twice-a-day girl by preference, and Joe, my True Love, had a work and school schedule that meant I mostly saw him on weekends, since we hadn't moved in together yet - so yours truly was obviously not getting her daily needs met.

I'm not knocking it - it was so strange and cool to know I even had a True Love. I was still getting used to it. But it did mean less of the only real hobby I'd ever had. And after gabbing about sex for three hours with Dewey, getting drunk, coming home in that kind of horny red buzz haze where you'd screw a rhino if one happened to be around - then what do you do?

I tried to play with myself, but man, it's just not the same. You know, some women can and some women can't. I can, but I always think in the middle of it: What's the point? And that night I had another thought: I kinda missed the old days. Sex where you don't ask their names until afterward. Sex where you don't have to wonder or care if they'll call you again. Sex you don't even recall having, not until months later when something triggers your brain and you think, "Oh, yeah," and smile that little grin when your clit wriggles remembering it.

I took a couple of melatonin pills instead, hoping they'd sink to the bottom of the beer, and tried to sleep. It didn't work too well. I was too hot and bothered to sleep - where's a rhino when you need one? - but too groggy to do anything useful.

I got up and wandered over to my big oval mirror. I needed to lose weight. Dewey kept telling me I was full of shit, and I mean I wasn't like Jumbo the Elephant or anything, but I definitely weighed more than I wanted to weigh. Still okay upstairs though. I like my breasts. Not too big, not too small. I put one hand on my hips and the other between my legs and made like one of those Playboy bimbos, posing like I was about to get off for the camera. Ooh, baby, objectify me. "If Joe were here," I said to my reflection, "I'd be on him so fast he wouldn't know what hit him."

"You better believe it," my reflection agreed.

I don't know how I ended up there, but the next thing I knew, I was sitting on my ass on the carpet, about five feet from the mirror, mouth open. I think I must have like teleported myself backwards or something. And the reflection in the mirror was still there! Still standing up, I mean. Laughing at me.

"Jumpy much?" she said, stepping out of the mirror into the bedroom. "Geez, it's just me. Get a grip."

"I - uh. Wow. And all I had tonight was beer."

She offered me a hand up, then sat down on the edge of the bed once I was standing. "I was bored. Sue me." She lay back, giggling. "Good luck in court."

"Hey, you're a little wasted, huh?" I said, flopping next to her.

"What'd you expect? So are you, you know. It's really cute the way your eyes don't quite focus." She rolled over, almost on top of me, and gave me a big wet kiss. I squirmed out from under her.

"What?" she said.

"This is too weird."

"'I'd date myself,'" she said. "'In an instant.'"

"Yeah. Okay. But hallucinations don't count."

She moved over, held down my legs, and started to tickle the soles of my feet - the only place I'm ticklish.

"Hey! - stop!" - laughing too hard - "Cut that out!"

She stopped. "You know it's impossible to tickle yourself."

"Um."

"So I guess this isn't a hallucination, huh?" She lay down next to me and pressed her breasts against my shoulder blades. "Now back to important things." She reached over me with one arm and started looking for my clit with her index finger.

"You're - ooh - kinda direct, aren't you?" I asked.

"Looked in a mirror lately?" she replied, giggling again.

Let's all give Dewey some applause: I didn't go to work the next day.

"This could be real dangerous," I said to Myself, as we ate our breakfast - a couple of bowls of cereal each. It was four o'clock in the afternoon.

"Hell, we haven't even started to get dangerous," she said. "Where are we going tonight? Want to play Doublemint Twins?"

"I can't do that to Joe," I said.

"Ah, c'mon, this is science! We're making history here."

"Look - at least one of us has a commitment -" The phone rang. A few minutes later I came back.

"So that's what those faces look like when I make 'em," she said.

"Go on, take a guess."

"He has to go on a job."

I nodded. "All weekend."

"More reason to go out and have some fun!" she replied.

"Not that kind of fun. You want to go give people double-takes, great, I'm with you. But -"

"You know he slept with that ex of his two months ago."

"And he apologized too. A lot. For days."

"You forgave him. Now he can forgive you."

"That's not how it works and you know it."

"Okay, how about if we had sex with someone we know Joe wouldn't get upset about later?"

"Who would qualify?"

"Someone he doesn't think is a threat."

I looked at Myself. She looked at me. "Oh, no ..." I began.

"He'll be hard to sell." She started to laugh.

I was laughing too. "Damn, woman, you're as crazy as I am."

Dewey looked into his pint glass. "I almost gave you an excuse and didn't show up."

"How come? Had one of those days? It's Friday; you're supposed to leave that stuff at the office."

"No ... part of it was that I don't usually get toasted two nights in a row ... and part of it was what we talked about last night ...."

"Yeah, I was horny as hell when I got home too. C'mon, Dewey, this is me you're talking to. You don't have to hold back. What're you going to do, shock me?"

He laughed. "I'm not sure that's possible."

"I really need you to be honest with me. Always, but especially tonight. 'Cause I need to ask you something weird."

"Weird - for you?"

"Oh, stop it. Hey, here she is. Dewey, turn around and say hi."

"Jesus! - um - hello. M, something you want to tell me?"

"Which of us do you mean?" said Myself, sitting on his other side.

"That's what I thought," he said. "Long-lost twin sister? No. Good makeup?" He studied both of our faces. "Don't think so. Okay, let's hear the story." He took a long swig of his beer.

That's what I like about Dewey.

"Remember last night when we were talking about whether we'd date ourselves?"

"Uh-huh ..."

"I thought that was a really good idea," said Myself, "so I came out and joined her."

"She came out of my mirror, Dewey," I said.

"She's me. Or I'm her. Take your pick," Myself said.

"I'm too sober for this," Dewey said. "Wait. What's the favor?"

"Let me buy you another beer first," I said.

Dewey hesitated as he unlocked the door. "Just so you know, the place is going to be a mess. I don't usually bring young women here for carnal purposes."

"Cut that shit out," I said. "Besides, like I'm Little Miss Housekeeper?"

"We could have gone to my place, you know," Myself said. "Her place, I mean."

"My place is your place," I said to her.

"Not on a bet," Dewey said. "You have roommates and I don't. And your bed's too small. Hell, mine may be too small and I've got a king-size." He turned on the living room light. "Hmm, well, this room's decent, anyway. Help yourself to whatever's drinkable in the kitchen while I go have a panic attack in the bedroom." He went upstairs.

Myself started laughing. "It's not funny," I said. "Do you remember L? I don't want Dewey to be so freaked out he doesn't speak to me again."

"Relax," she said. "He's wanted to have sex with us forever, and he knows we know it, and that hasn't stopped the conversation, has it?"

"I guess so."

"Okay, it's safe," Dewey hollered from upstairs.

We went up. "This isn't a bad place, Dewey," I said.

"It's a dump," he replied, "but it's got lots of space and I can afford it, so who's gonna be picky in this market? So. Is that the small talk? When does the clothing come off?"

"You make it sound so sexy," Myself said.

"I'm kidding," he replied.

"Relax, Dewey," I said, hugging him from behind. "We won't bite."

"No jokes," added Myself.

"Well - one of you is intimidating enough ...."

"I'm intimidating?" I said.

"Sure - I mean, you've done all these things and slept with all these people ... no offense ... I am not the world's greatest lover ...."

"Oh, shut up and take off your clothes," Myself said.

"See what I mean?" he said, but he undid his jeans. I beat Myself at getting undressed, but only by a second or two.

"What?" I said to Dewey, who was watching us.

"You're just as sexy as I expected you to be," he said, sitting down on the bed. "And Joe is going to kill me."

"No, he won't," said Myself, pushing him onto his back. "We'll keep him too busy."

"I bet," he said. "Here, let me taste that." He put his mouth on Myself's breast and licked her nipple.

"Yikes!" she said. "Hey, warn me before you do that."

"Sorry. I'm way oral. Didn't you know?"

"Oh, really?" I said, sitting next to him. "So, does that mean -"

"Lie down with your head over there," he said, pointing to one of the pillows, "and I'll see what I can do."

"What about me?" said Myself.

"I only hath onth tongth," Dewey said, sticking it out. "You'll have to figure something else out while you wait."

"I've got a better idea," said Myself.

"Me too," I said. "Which end do you want?"

"I'll take the pony ride," she said.

"Should I be worried?" Dewey asked.

"C'mere, Dewey. Lie back." He did, and I kneeled with one leg on either side of his head, so close his nose was just about pressed into my clit. "Now, you can do the same thing with me up here, can't you? Oh! Yeah, I see you get the idea," I gasped.

"Just leave me room to breathe," he said, pulling his mouth away for a moment before going back to work with his tongue. He had a long tongue.

"Hey!" he said, pausing for a second. "That's ... distracting."

"Just getting you warmed up," Myself said, taking her mouth off his penis. "You concentrate on her. I'll do the work down here."

"Back to work, you," I said.

"Slave driver," he muttered, but in went his tongue again, running up my lips and lapping hard across my clit. I shook a little.

"Oh, that looked like it felt good," Myself said. "Okay, Dewey, here I come." She straddled him and lowered herself carefully onto him. "Mmm. Now let's see what happens when I go up and - oooh - down a little."

I felt Dewey gasp into my cunt. "He likes that," I said.

"Me too," she replied. "How are you doing?" She leaned forward and put her arms around me, one hand on each breast, and kissed the back of my neck.

"Fabulous," I said. "Dewey - oh! - I am never going to believe anything you tell me again."

He reached up, without removing his mouth, and gave me the finger. I laughed.

Myself chewed on my shoulder a little. "Yum."

"Hey! Concentrate on what you're doing back there!"

"I am," she said. "But I can do more than one thing at a time." She started tweaking and rolling one of my nipples between two fingers.

"Especially now," Dewey said, stopping to pant a little. "Okay, now we go for broke. Keep teasing her," he told Myself. He dove back in and I squealed.

"Hey! Whatever - whatever you're doing - um, well, never mind, keep doing it!"

Myself started to laugh. "Get her, Dewey."

"I can't even - trust myself," I gasped. "Eeeee! More!"

Myself held me as closely as she could get, forcing my movements to match hers as she bucked up and down. Dewey didn't seem to mind - he got the rhythm instantly, and every time her thrusts forced my pussy down into his face, he'd take advantage of it to get more of my clit into his mouth.

We were moving like a big machine, me caught between two gears, one squeezing my nipples and breasts, the other nibbling and sucking at my cunt. I moaned louder.

"She's about to explode, Dewey." Myself was giggling at the noise I was making. Evil bitch. "Ooh! You too, I see."

I felt Dewey's whole body tense suddenly, and he pushed his tongue hard against my clit and by then I was already coming, my whole body shaking. It took me a while to stop. Dewey had to tap me on the leg.

"Oh! Damn. Sorry, Dewey," I said, moving off.

"No problem, you were kinda busy," he said, catching his breath. "Wow."

We all just lay there, breathing, not moving much. Me on one side with my head on Dewey's shoulder, Myself curled up on the other side using his stomach as a pillow.

"So does she taste better than I do?" Myself asked.

"Not a fair test," he replied sleepily. "Different sample."

"Well, I was thinking that we should trade places and do it again," I said.

"Me too," she said, grinning at me.

"Fair's fair," Dewey said, "but you have to give me a while ..."

So we had a nap. And then we woke up.

Dewey says we taste exactly alike. But he'd say that even if we didn't.

"Frankly, I'd been wondering," Dewey said, after taking the first sip of his beer.

"Us too," I said. It was, oh, maybe two months later.

"We'd go to sleep every night and wonder if only one of us was going to be there in the morning," Myself said.

"But it looks as if we're both here to stay."

"And how's everyone taking it? I guess you're kinda keeping it a secret."

"Only from our boss. We trade off days."

"He wonders why we've gotten so picky about writing down meeting schedules and memos," Myself said, laughing. "It's the only way we can remember what the other one did that day."

I knew what Dewey was going to ask, from his face, before he asked it. "Yes, we finally told him."

"We couldn't really avoid it, not when we're moving in with him in two weeks."

"How'd he take it?" Dewey asked.

"It took him a while. But he's decided that as long as one of us is always available -"

"- he doesn't care which one," Myself finished. "Besides, he knows we both love him."

"He'll probably insist that if we sleep with other people, he's allowed to as well," I said.

"Well ..." Dewey said.

"No, I'd go with that," Myself said. "Fair's fair. So long as he doesn't bring home anything nasty. See, we decided -"

"- that while we love Joe a lot -"

"- this sex-with-only-one-person thing really sucks."

"Better than sex with no people," muttered Dewey.

"Aww," I said. "Want a rematch?"

"Not this week," he said, smiling into his beer glass. "Not sure my heart could take it."

Myself and I grinned.

"But I'll keep the offer in mind," he said.

Copyright © June 2009. Do not distribute or reproduce.