But good old tit-grabbing Cary Rossington took care of that, his mind whispered. So why are you thinking about Ginelli now? Mohonk – that's what you ought to be thinking of. And David Duganfield, who proves that nice guys don't always finish last. And taking off a few more pounds.
But as he turned into the driveway, what he found himself thinking about was something Ginelli had said: William, I hope you never have to find out.
Find out what? Billy wondered, and then Heidi was flying out the front door to kiss him, and Billy forgot everything for a while.
. there are a few
Chapter Three. Mohonk
It was their third night at Mohonk and they had just finished making love. it was the sixth time in three days, a giddy change from their usual sedate twice-a-week pace. Billy lay beside her, liking the feel of her heat, liking the smell of her perfume – Anais Anais – mixed with her clean sweat and the smell of their sex. For a moment the thought made a hideous cross-connection and he was seeing the Gypsy woman in the moment before the Olds struck her. For a moment he heard a bottle of Perrier shattering. Then the vision was gone.
He rolled toward his wife and hugged her tight.
She hugged him back one-armed and slipped her free hand up his thigh. 'You know,' she said, 'if I come my brains out one more time, I'm not going to have any brains left.'
'It's a myth,' Billy said, grinning.
'That you can come your brains out?'
'Nah. That's the truth. The myth is that you lose those brain cells forever. The ones you come out always grow back.'
'Yeah, you say, you say.'
She snuggled more comfortably against him. Her hand wandered up from his thigh, touched his penis lightly and lovingly, toyed with the thatch of his pubic hair (last year he'd been sadly astounded to see the first threads of gray down there in what his father had called Adam's thicket), and then slid up the foothill of his lower belly.