Pistol wasn’t the only thing hard in my pants, though. So okay ... time for a little cuddling, then we both groaned our achy muscles out of the bed....I slid the pistol back under my shirt and we complained our way out into the parking lot for the short drive to the steakhouse.Was a good steak. Tender. Cooked just past the point where it still had reflexes. A proud Idaho potato that had fulfilled its brown-jacketed destiny. And a good hoppy beer.“If you’re having one, I’m having one,” Gee. We can spend the rest of it celebrating your birthday. We can make it special."Brenda shot back, "Yah! So how!? How can we make it special?" A light glimmered. "Brenda, why don't we spend the rest of the weekend doing whatever you want whenever you want." Maybe that would mollify her. I didn't like her unhappy with me and wanted out of the doghouse bad."What do you mean," she shot back "about 'whatever and whenever'?" I said, "just that. You decide what you want and we'll do it." She said, "Do. More

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