“What pills?”
“Sildenafil citrate. Also known as Viagra. My husband took one now and then before he died. He always claimed they worked pretty well, but of course that was some time ago.”
I know. Five years. Matty, you are so resourceful. “Now and then”—ha! You don’t have to tell me more. You deserved a good sex life with him, now you deserve one with me. Sure, I’ll try one. Why not? It won’t kill me.
The pill, the glass of water, the exaggerated gulp (he was never a good pill swallower), and they lie down together again.
“Give it about twenty minutes or so,” she says.
“No problem. C’mere and kiss me.”
Resuming where we left off, I take her in my arms again. We’re cozier now, not in so big a rush. There’s time to dawdle over details, like fractionated kisses to overlooked places. I kiss the crooks of her elbows, for example; she kisses my wrists and forearms. Neither of us speaks—for once, verbal communication is firmly belted into the back-seat. My rational mind is shut down, too (thinking can be hazardous in the bedroom). The light is low enough to create the illusion that she’s an icon or exemplar of femininity. Just the way she’s breathing tells me I’m doing something right for a change. She wants me, and I have the privilege of satisfying her. Isn’t this what I’ve been searching for all these months?
Powerfully and chemically enhanced, my erection is slowly taking hold. This time it won’t be defeated by performance anxiety—kudos to the chemists and trial volunteers and marketeers, the doctors and ad writers and webmasters, the consumers and word-of-mouthers and their significant others. Kudos to the dead man who unwittingly left a dose in the medicine cabinet for his replacement. Kudos to Matty for remembering.
Bursting with gratitude, Budge gives credit where credit is due. He is almost ready to be straddled by this sexual creature. For once, he doesn’t have to remind himself to look forward, not backward, to the present.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Peter Svenson
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2864-6
The Permanent Press
4170 Noyac Road
Sag Harbor, NY 11963
www.thepermanentpress.com
Distributed by Open Road Distribution
180 Maiden Lane
New York, NY 10038
www.openroadmedia.com
Washed Up with a Broken Heart in Rock Hall Page 14
