Nothing to worry about.’ ‘Oh. Okay.’ ‘Leno, Letterman or Nightline?’ I asked. We had real issues to discuss. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ ‘I think we might want to consider a compromise here.’ I was only offering the possibility. I had not lost by speaking first. ‘Which one is the compromise?’ he asked. ‘None of them.’ ‘So you’re suggesting?’ ‘Hey, you’re the man. You have the remote.’ He hesitated before he picked it up, held it in his hand as if really making a decision and turned off the set. We both dashed for the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. The first time was not going to be a feast to be savored. We had allowed ourselves to become far too hungry. We went at each other with a frenzy, interrupted several times when we burst into uncontrollable laughter based, I assume, on the incongruity of the endless foreplay where we did nothing for hours followed by a brief flurry of activity where we tried to make up for everything we could have done in all that time had either of us been. He almost died from fright when they crossed his porch, ringed his bell and introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Bill Jones. The husband was a big guy and explained that he worked as a foreman on the nearby rail line construction team and would work there for the next couple of years, hence why they moved to a house within walking distance. She was a housewife. Penelope, Penny to her friends.One glance at Penelope and John fell in love. Desperate, first sight love. It was not the fact that she was beautiful, or that her long blonde hair shined like halo around her angelical face, or that her simple short summer dress molded her curvaceous body into a sculpted perfection, or that her melodious voice recalled Chopin's nocturnes, or that her soft golden skin invited the most delicate touch, it was the assembly, the aura, the whole. John was so taken by this inhuman apparition that he almost couldn't answer any of couple's questions. Probably disappointed by his aloofness they cut the.
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