Chapter 9
Did I miss Dave? Fine, I missed Dave. Did I care for Bing? Fine, I cared for Bing. Was I confused? Yep, that’s yet another rhetorical question. Anyway, I needed advice from someone not so closely associated with me. Someone who wasn’t Ma or Monroe. So yes, I called Dave.
“Nice to hear from you, Jack,” he said.
“It is?”
He laughed. My c**k throbbed. I wondered if it would still do that when I was seventy, eighty. Was the d**k the last organ to go in a man? Did it ever go? And is this what guys thought about when they were going through not-even-close-to-midlife crises? “It is. It always is,” he said. “What’s up?”
I grinned. If he only knew. Except, I didn’t tell him about my lower extremities; I told him all I’d recently discovered, however little that was.
“Hmm,” he hummed.
