Page 35 of Truly, Madly Viking

Jorund nodded knowingly, and he did not think it was a laughing matter at all.

"I know much of this ailment."

"You do?" Maggie asked with astonishment.

"Not from personal experience," he was quick to add, "but many of my soldiers suffer from this malady after a particularly gruesome battle, or after serving in too many wars."

He glanced around and saw that he had everyone's attention, even the women. Was he talking too much? He looked at Mag-he and she appeared enthralled, so he assumed he was on the right course to curing himself.

"Are you for real?" But Steve meant no insult.

He was genuinely interested in knowing more, as became evident with his next que. "And how did those soldiers get... better?"

"Well, the healers never did have the answers. But then, they rarely do. Just slap on the leeches and grind up a few powders. As I recall, time was the most important thing."

"It's been ten freakin' years, man!" Steve snared.

Jorund decided to ignore his less-than-respectful tone. "The most important thing is for the man not to believe that he is less than a man. It is a natural condition that will pass, in time, if the man does not let himself think it is permanent. Unless, of course, there was actual bodily injury, like an arrow to the balls, or a battle-ax severing the cock."

Every man in the room cringed and crossed his legs.

"Then, of course, there are some potions that can help, in some cases," Jorund concluded.

"Like Viagra? That's for old men," Steve scoffed.

"Not necessarily," a new voice in the circle offered. It was Hair-vee, a young man who had been counting the lint pieces on his trousers ever since Jorund had arrived. "I tried it once."

"You did?" at least five voices asked.

"Yep. My girlfriend got it for me. Man, oh, man, I had a five-hour hard-on. Shirley was happier than a hog in a mud slide."

"You are such a bullshitter," Steve observed.

"You don't even have a girlfriend," Chuck added.

"What's vie-ag-rah?" Jorund wanted to know.

"You know what they say about the watched kettle never boiling," Hair-vee threw in. "Maybe you've been watching your kettle too much."

"Maybe I'll break a kettle over your head, Lutz," Steve remarked.

Unconcerned, Hair-vee went back to counting, his own teeth this time. It was not a pretty sight.

"I heard some positions are better than others for maintaining..." Rosalyn's voice trailed off when she saw that everyone was gawking at her.

Furr-red, the man holding the two dinner trenchers, bobbed up and down in his seat. He couldn't wait to offer, "A psychiatrist once told me that too much masturbation can make a guy get the technique down so good that no woman can please him."

"What's master-bait-shun?" Jorund asked.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Steve put his face in both hands and groaned. "Please, God, cut out my tongue if I ever decide to say anything to this motley crew again."

"My brother bought an electronic device on the Internet that you attach to your willy." Not-a-lie had stopped humming long enough to offer that sage advice. "It could tell a guy exactly how long his erection lasted, and how hard it was. Honest. Unless he got a shock, of course."

"I wish I were dead," Steve said. Then: "You people really are nuts if you think I'm gonna risk lightning boltin' my dingo."

"I think we've heard enough on this subject for today," Mag-he announced in a decisive voice, her face blushing profusely. From the blush on her face, he figured a dingo must be something sexual... and interesting.

"Fred, what are those lovely plates you're carrying today?" Mag-he asked.