He began at the far end of the line; each slow deliberate ‘swish’ of his cane bringing an agonized groan from the boy on the receiving end. It see...ed to take a lifetime as he calculatingly lined the rod up against each teenage backside so as not to hit the same spot twice. I was sweating with anticipation and my stomach was turning somersaults as each boy received six painful strokes of the rod before being sent out of the room until I was left alone still bending at a 90 degree angle. As. Let me back up a bit.I met my wife almost fifteen years ago and we hit it off immediately. In every possible way that really mattered, she was the perfect woman for me. Smart, cute, ambitious, driven, and unlike every other girl I had dated previously, was of the same mind I was when it came to the question of having children - no. With all of these factors in place, I was able to overlook one glaring issue we had always had. We never had a very good sex life.Whether it was me, her, or just. “Oh, that’s gross, Gil!” Jo stepped around the edge of the doorway. “I drink from that bottle, too!” She gingerly sat down on the nearest barstool.“Sorry. If you’re sore, I have some Tylenol.”“If someone had told me I could overdo sex, I would have laughed at them,” Jo grumbled. “I think my legs will never work again, and I’m still getting sore afterwards.”“I can kiss it and make it all better,” I said with a fake leer.“Which brings me back to drinking from the bottle,” Jo glared at me. “I know. "After the conference was over, Alex was rather taken aback when Ian Anderson, the London Senior Editor, took him to one side. "Look lively, son," said his boss who was as much Alex's senior in years as he was in status. "Mr St. John-Easton wants to talk to you. God knows what interests he has in online media, but make sure you check back with me with whatever he has to say." Of course, Ian," said Alex, who couldn't help wondering whether this meeting had anything to do with his occasional.
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