”“No,” she shot back, “You’re far from chunky.”“Not really,” I replied, patting my abdomen. I had a good start on a midlife beer belly...“It’s not the size of the tool shed that matters,” she replied, “it’s the tools under the shed.”Now it was my turn to blush. The wine was working. inhibitions be damned. I silently toe-to-heel removed my tennis shoes, stood up and slipped out of my t-shirt, dropping my shirt on to my chair. I stripped out of my jeans, fully aware that my raging hard-on would be. " He took mystatement as an invitation to stay. I told him we were having salads withtuna draped over the top. He didn't care; food was food. I set him towork peeling cucumbers. I let the dog in from the back yard and sureenough, she ran straight for Sam. He took that as his cue to play withthe dog. "Hey? I'm helping. I'm entertaining your dog," he said sincerely.I shook my head and got back to work. I told him to set the dining roomtable while I assembled the finishing touches of our dinner.. More

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