Giddy and uncontrollable, she lifts her head with tears rolling down her face. “Oh, Brian!” she mimics. “I’m going . . . to . . . be . . . sss . . .” Once more she collapses onto the bed, snorting, improvising kissing then vomiting, pretending to wipe her mouth and come back for more, her tongue dancing around foolishly. “No, really, I’m okay,” she mimes. “Don’t stop now!” Her hips thrust back and forward. “What? Oh, yeah, I’d better brush my teeth!” She’s off again, into peals of uncontrollable laughter. How many times do we have to go through this tonight? I wish I’d never told her now, although I certainly wouldn’t be able to share this with anyone else, especially not Chantelle given how often I preach to her about not mixing business with pleasure. “It’s not funny, Kate.” I wince, holding my head in shame. “Right in the throes of passion. How the hell am I ever going to look him in the eye again?”
