"Imagination?"
"Yeah, and I said OK, even though I don't think imagination is my strong suit"
"Got you."
"Not my strong suit at all."
"Agreed."
"Wish it were but..."
"By the way, what do you believe is your strong suit, Roger?"
His eyebrows go up and he regards me skeptically. He pauses just a second more and says, "Oh, probably being a good husband who listens to his wife."
"Oooh. Got me with that one."
"That, and maybe explaining stuff like this to a doofus like you."
Being called a doofus by a world-class doofus like Roger was a new low for me. But I knew his insane stories were chipping away at a piece of my brain. And not just that, they were turning that piece of brain on, giving me a boner just imagining Anna and me or is it I in this situation.
"Oooh. Got me there too."
"Burn!"
"Well done, but go on. What's this imagination BS?"
"Thank you Bill and it's not BS. Claire had me doing these imagination exercises for about two weeks. What we did was I would be playing 2nd base for the Blue Jays and we're in the World Series against the Dodgers and no one thinks we stand a chance against..."
"OK, skip that part."
"You don't want to hear about game 7?"
"Later, get to the part about you and Claire."
"Gotcha. So Claire says to me one night, 'Let's try a new one.' And I say OK, cause I love her like crazy and we had been kissing. And she says, 'This time we'll imagine something about me.' And I'm like OK. 'Imagine I'm an elite athlete, like top 10 in the world in tennis or something.' So I told her OK to that, even though she's not really that great in tennis, which is why I needed to use imagination. 'And imagine you play tennis too, but you're just average, like some weekend-player who knows the game and enjoys it but isn't really all that great.' Well, that part was easier cause it's pretty much the way it actually is. 'And now imagine you get this bug up your behind like why is she out there playing tennis with all these people when she could play me, when it could be just the two of us, enjoying it together.' OK, I told her. Can do. I could see what she meant. Imagination."
"Imagination."
"Yes, and she says, 'And imagine you come to me and say that I can only play tennis with you.' Got it, I kind of liked the sound of it, very manly of me, so I imagined that. 'Now imagine I agree to that because I'm your wife and I love you.' Check, nice of her too, Claire is pretty thoughtful that way, about me being head of the family and such, because of how she was raised. 'Imagine that we do that for a while, but it makes us both kind of unhappy.' This one was harder, like why would tennis make us unhappy? Is there an injury or something? But she helped explain it. 'See we play and there's not much in it for me cause you can't keep up with me.' Well, that would make sense. 'And there's not much in it for you because you know I'm not taking it seriously.' That one was complicated but after a second or two I was able to imagine it. 'I'm resentful because my skills are deteriorating.' Check. 'You're resentful because you know I'm not into it.' It was a workout but I did it. I had everything in my imagination. Felt good about that, cause it was a number of things to keep in my head at once. Anyway, that's what she said."
"Jesus, where did this conversation take place."
"Oh, we were in bed, didn't I say that? No? Weird of me! Yes, in our bed at home just a few nights after game 7. Want to hear that part now?"
"No."
"Hmmm, your loss. Anyway, I had just finished going down on her, rang the bell too, thank you very much, good night ladies and gentlemen, drive safely and please recollection to tell your friends. We're here all week. Ka-ching! Ka-ching! Ka-ching!"
"Stop it. For God's sake!"
"Ummm, but I hadn't performed intercourse on her yet. What she did was wrap her hand around me, or actually, what I mean is around my penis. Her hand wouldn't fit around all of me, like my waist, not that I'm fat, probably could lose five pounds but you wouldn't say fat. It's just her hands are... Anyway, I was already really hard, and she said all this very softly, in a whisper, while I was getting more and more excited."
"She must have said more than that, a guy like you..."
"Exactement! That's what she said too, a guy like me..."
"Go on."
"So she's kissing my chest and my nipples, which, it's OK to admit that guys can like that as much as girls do, and I was into it even while I was keeping all the imaginings in my head, cause I didn't want her to have to go over it all again. And then she says, 'Honey, don't you think it might be better if I could play tennis at my own level?' Makes sense I told her. 'With you there for me? You'd have to be there. I could never do it alone.' That sounds nice. 'You'd be like my manager, my coach, my cheerleader, my...' And I told her yes of course, that I'd be her driver, her equipment guy, her ballboy, everything. By then she was kissing down my belly and I was thinking My God! She's going to do it. And she said, 'You wouldn't resent it, would you?' I told her no that would be crazy, and she was kissing lower, still had my penis in her hand. She raised her head and said, 'And you wouldn't resent the people I play with?' No, I couldn't see why I would. 'You don't feel bad because you can't play like Tim Duncan? Right?'"
"Tim Duncan?"
"Yeah, I was pretty surprised myself that she would bring up his name right then. And I'll tell you why, there were two reasons. First, that part must have come from Julian because I was pretty sure she didn't really know who Tim Duncan was. And second because it seemed like we were headed towards a blowjob. But I took her point and grunted in the refirmative and she was sliding down the bed a little more, kissing my body on the way. She says, 'You don't feel bad watching him pitch a baseball, do you?' See? A baseball! Can you believe it? That's women for you!"
"They are complicated Rog."
