Monday was Tony, Tuesday was Mary, Wednesday was Michael, Thursday was Cathy, Friday was Larry, and Saturday was Beth. Oh – and Sunday was his left hand. So why wasn’t Aaron happy when he woke up in his bedroom suite at Aunt Wilhelmina’s on Monday morning?
After all, he thought, brushing his teeth and looking at his gnarly form in the mirror, he’d satisfied every carnal appetite known to man. He’d had a different partner every night for a week, and every one of them was coming back this week for seconds. He could remember Larry’s baritone moans, Beth’s soprano squeals of delight, and cries of ecstasy from the rest of them. So why did he dread the coming week?
He saw the dark circles under his eyes and let out a little cry. He had a headache, too, from all vodka martinis and double shooters. Come to think of it, he’d gotten about four hours of sleep every night since his aunt left. Not very good – he was getting on in years, after all, and needed his sleep. After all, he’d be thirty in just seven years.
He took his shower and dressed for Tibet. He’d go meditate with Richard Gere and the Dalai Lama.
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