Sometimes twice, even thrice. On the table, in the bathroom, in a public pool, on the rocking chair, even at the back of the church. Then it just fizz...ed out. Sex became a chore and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a fate worse than death. So much for trashy romance novels about happily ever after.We hardly saw each other. When we did, it was for a less-than-romantic television dinner. Wheel of Fortune became more interesting than him. When we tried to talk, it boiled down to the same thing -. " Gertrude?" Trud-e," I corrected him. "Only my husband calls me Gertrude ... when he's cross with me."I was immediately cross with myself for mentioning my husband, to him, again."Very well, Trude. You must call me Franz." And with that he put his hand out to take mine in his and I offered it to him and he bent and kissed it.I swear I swooned down to my toes and I know that my freckle-specked face was blushing deep red because I could feel that heat in my cheeks."What about my other offer?" he. More

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