" Seriously?" I asked. "Your husband must make you pretty happy then, huh?" Allen?" she asked. "Please. When he remembers to make love, he doesn't las... any longer than he did when we were teenagers. No, it's me. It's like I can't... it's like I've lost the ability to climax. So I just kind of, um, stopped." Seriously?" I repeated. "Well, I know where I can get the dildo you need, and we need to go shopping anyway for the lingerie you've never owned. But climaxing... huh. Let me ask around." No. Gail's bachelorette party was going to be held at our house on Thanksgiving night. By now, Karen had Mom and Dad wrapped around her little finger, and had convinced them to extend their usual Thanksgiving holiday until Friday. Her plan was that Gail would come over for Thanksgiving dinner — Chris would be on his way back from Ohio with his parents — and then after dinner Julie, Andrea, and Sue would come over to our place for the party while I joined Gordon and Mr. Pinsky to watch the Eagles. More

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