Chapter 7

“Fuck!” He gives his forehead a light smack. “I’ve been jacking off on your sofa for almost two hours. Time flies when I’m having fun. I’m surprised I haven’t shot my load yet.”

I’m flabbergasted, shake my head. “Get dressed and get out of here. Go home and have Lou play with your knob. Isn’t that why he’s your boyfriend?”

“Lou sucks at playing with my knob. It’s why I play with myself.”

“Then find someone else to play with your knob, but just don’t do it here.”

It’s horrible advice since I like Lou. He’s a nice man and a great boyfriend. Shame on me. But I want Ira out of my apartment. I want to eat leftover fried chicken, read a paperback mystery by Robert Riley,and drink a cup of coffee with Italian sweet cream.

Arched boner visible in the cotton, he rises from the sofa, leaving the blanket behind. He climbs into his jeans and T-shirt. As he puts on his socks and Nike shoes, he sighs and tells me, “I want to be honest with you.”

“Honesty is good. Tell me.”