The Average American Marriage Read Online Free PDF Page B

task might seem to you, I’d view it as a valuable learning experience.”
    She keeps talking about some other shit, but all I can do is watch her lips move. They’re not plump, they’re not what I would consider traditionally good dick-sucking lips, but I can’t stop imagining them on my cock. I’m still staring at her lips when I notice they haven’t really moved for a few seconds at least and then she says, “So . . . yeah, that’s why I would really love to be an intern here.” I wonder if she realized I wasn’t listening to her at all. I don’t care. I say, “That’s great. Great answer.”
    We stare at each other for a few weird moments. I’m wondering if she likes to get fucked in the morning when she says, “So . . .”
    Wanting to give the illusion of legitimacy in this interview process, and also knowing that I’ll be able to let her sweat it out for a week and then have an excuse to call her, I say, “Well, thanks very much for your time. We still have some other candidates to interview, but you should be hearing back shortly.”
    She says, “Sounds good. Thank you so much for having me in and I hope to hear from you soon.”
    We stand up, shake hands, and I open the conference room door for her and show her back to the lobby. I watch her ass move under her skirt the whole time. I want to fuck her. She leaves and I go through the motions with the other douchebags who think they have a shot at the internship.
    After lunch I go to the third-floor bathroom and jerk off, thinking about Holly’s ass and lips while I watch some college-coed porn on my phone. I imagine blowing my load on her tits, which I assume are hard and perfectly shaped.

chapter six
    My Gay Buddy
    I don’t eat lunch with my gay friend Carlos as often as I used to before I got married and had kids, but we still get together from time to time. He sent me a very demanding e-mail this morning that said I had no choice but to have lunch with him today. He apparently has big news.
    I’m sitting outside the Cheesecake Factory in Woodland Hills. The place is always packed at lunch hour with other shitty people doing shitty jobs that no one gives a fuck about. I thought talking loudly into your cell phone to seem important ended in the nineties, but there’s a bald guy with a giant gut talking as loudly as possible into his Bluetooth earpiece about buying and selling something. I almost don’t believe it’s real until Carlos walks up and actually says to the guy, “Hey, nobody gives a fuck about what you’re buying and selling on your fake phone call.”
    The guy is surprised and embarrassed. He walks off without saying anything. Carlos gives me a hug and says, “Long time no see, pussylicker.”
    â€œYeah. The wife-and-kids thing. You know how it is . . . Oh wait, no you don’t, you’re a gay man.”
    â€œFuck you. Let’s eat.”
    We sit down outside, which I hate but Carlos insists on, and get some bread and water. I say, “So what’s the news?”
    He says, “Tedward and I are getting fucking married. Can you believe that shit?”
    I say, “Wow. No. Where?”
    â€œNot in California, obviously.”
    â€œNew York?”
    â€œUh . . . no. I’m not a faggot.”
    â€œUh . . . yes you are.”
    â€œNo I’m not. I’m gay. I’m not a fag. Every fag in this fucking country is getting married in New York now. It was a cliché before it was even legal. Tedward has an aunt in Boston who has this gorgeous house she’s going to let us use. It’s going to be insane. And you and your brood are invited.”
    â€œWe’ll be there. When is it?”
    â€œFour months from now. I’ll send you the date and everything, but about four months from now.”
    â€œShit, that’s quick.”
    â€œIt seems like it, but