Page 83 of Misadventures of a Biker

“You had sex at the theater?”

“A few weeks ago. I forgot to tell you.”

She scrunched her nose. “He poked his finger in your butt?”

I nodded. “Just as I started to have an orgasm.”

“In the theater?”

“It was my sex-on-command request.”

“I thought you were going to do sex on the beach?”

“The sand-in-the-twat thing freaked me out. That stuff gets in everything, no matter how many blankets you take. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway. Yeah. The finger-in-the-butt-trick was awesome.”

“Oddly,” she said, “I just read an article about that.”

“About what?”

“Inserting a finger into the anus at climax.”

“In what?” I asked with a laugh. “Penthouse Forum?”

“Cosmo.”

“Oh.” I chuckled. “Maybe he reads Cosmo.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So, what about this hippy?” I asked. “What’s the latest?”

“He’s looking at houses next week.”

“Where?”

“Old Naples.”

“Oh, wow. The CBD business must be good.”

“Real estate is considerably less expensive here than it is in San Diego,” she said. “His home in La Jolla sold for seven million.”

“He already sold it?”

“On Monday.”

“I hope everything works out.”

She smiled. “Me too. You’ll like him. He’s pretty laid-back.”

“But he doesn’t stink?”

She slapped the back of my hand. “Don’t be mean.”

I reached for my sake. “You know what?”