“I’m not surprised. Armando despises sleeping alone. I had a body pillow with my face superimposed on it specially made for when I have out-of-town trips,” Nick explained with a sad sigh. “He never sleeps soundly while I’m gone, but that pillow helps.”
“Wonderful. Suffice it to say that Mannie wasn’t interested in his Nick-shaped pillow last night,” Devil snapped. “He wanted – and got – my wife, the lucky bastard. As I’m sure you can imagine, this is a problem for me. Especially since I had plans for my wife. Hot, nasty, sweaty plans. And unless you fancy the thought of starring in a little movie with me called ‘Fifty Shades of Black and Blue’ in which I beat you senseless, then you’ll tell me what we’re gonna do to get your man out of my bed and back into yours,” Devil threatened.
“Maybe I am gay,” Grant mused thoughtfully as he munched on a French fry, “because I’d totally go see that movie.”
Disturbed, Devil paused mid-rant and cocked his head in Grant’s direction. “Seriously, bud, when was the last time you and Karen had a little ‘alone’ time?” he asked, using air quotes. Honestly, when he and Grant had been in college and shared a dorm room, he’d been forced to listen to his best friend and his girl screw like bunnies. They were always all over each other. He’d just assumed that they were still as…active as they once were.
“I’ll take your eight weeks and raise you a fiscal quarter,” Grant replied miserably. “That’s right, boys…three monkin’ months.”
“Monkin’?” Devil repeated curiously, arching one dark, inky eyebrow as he waited for Grant to elaborate – which he would. He always did.
“Yeah,” Grant retorted stubbornly, draining his whiskey sour in one long gulp, “Monkin’. It’s the opposite of fuckin’,” he explained, belching loudly. “See, monks are chaste. Like me. Get it?” he chuckled, elbowing Devil in the side. “At this rate, we’re both gonna be born-again virgins, man.”
Blinking, Nick stared at Grant in fascination. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, but….why?”
“Why, what?” Grant grunted, frowning into his now empty glass.
“Why haven’t you and your wife been….you know….”
“Bumpin’ uglies? Doin’ the deed? Makin’ sweet, sweet loooooovvvveee to my lady?” Grant drawled as Devil groaned and buried his face in his hands and begged whatever God was listening for a quick death.
“Yeah,” Nick nodded, interested now.
“Dear God, I beg you not to answer that, man. Karen is like a sister to me,” Devil begged, grimacing at the thought of what could be coming next.
“Now you know how I feel with Molly,” Grant replied unapologetically before directing his gaze toward Nick. “Well, it’s like this, Nicky, my boy. I don’t get laid much anymore because of a little thing I like to call the Three Ms. Marriage, Middle age, and Menopause. Now, any one of those can put a damper on the sexual shenanigans, but all three together? Let’s just say that those creamy white thighs of our lovers’ legs will close tighter than the vaults at Fort Knox. It’s a cocktail for catastrophe. It happens to all of us couples, my friend. Even the gay ones,” he assured the younger man with a sympathetic smile. “Yep, my wife has entered into those confusing years where I’m never sure if she wants to kiss me or kill me. Although, lately, I really think she’s leaning toward the ‘kill me’ option. I got a notice in the mail that she upped my life insurance. I’m not exactly feeling safe in my own home these days,” he lamented.
Catching the deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression blanketing you Nicholas’ face, Devil sighed heavily. “You’re scaring the boy, Grant. Knock it off. The kid’s got enough problems right now without hearing how his sex life will eventually become as mythical as the existence of unicorns.”
“Better he hears the truth from a friend,” Grant counseled wisely.
“Ignore him,” Devil ordered, rolling his eyes at Grant’s Tony worthy theatrical performance. “He’s just bitter because his wife currently enjoys the company of E.L. James’ and Sylvia Day’s books more than his own. As long as you and Mannie keep things fresh between the sheets, you won’t have a problem,” he counseled easily.
“Well, fuck,” Grant cursed. “How the fuck is a normal guy supposed to keep up with these fictional fuckin’ heroes that the girls are reading about lately? It’s like these romance authors are trying to raise the bar for husbands everywhere!” Zoning his keen gaze back on Nick, he pointed an accusing finger. “And don’t think you’re off the hook just because you sail your boat in another ocean. Nuh uh. Apparently gay erotica is on the rise as well with the ladies and gents. Karen left her kindle on the table the other day and before I realized what I was reading, I was learning how two men can get it on in the shower! And damn it, I was jealous of them,” he whined morosely.