‘Different music I think.’ My wife said when we had finished. She selected a playlist developed by one of my club’s DJs. It was labeled ‘class...c stripper tunes.’ Motley Crue banged out ‘Girls, Girls Girls’. You cannot get anymore classic stripper than that. My wife danced over to the stripper pole and used it for its intended purpose, dancing and spinning around it. Melisa moved over and sat on the arm of my chair. ‘She is so fucking hot, your wife.’ She whispered to me. My wife was smiling at. “Cuddling wasn’t high on my list of garage activities either.” Then he paused for a few moments, sipping his beer more slowly now. As the significance of our conversation settled around us like an imagined cone of silence, he finally spoke up.“Jack, maybe this doesn’t have to be so complicated for you.” he offered. “Maybe these lines make more sense when we’re twenty-five and the ladies want to fuck us and it's all so new. And maybe we've just lucked into something that feels good, and that we. More

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