It's a frenzy. We're like Cirque du Soleil performers but naked, without music, and no discernible talent. We tumble around on the bed like acrobats, throwing off each other's clothes.

Finally, I'm wearing only my glasses, and Jarrod's wearing only a twenty-thousand dollar watch and a twenty-thousand watt smile. He's lying on the bed, diagonally, and I am straddling him, my legs around his hard belly and his erection teasing my backside.

My goal reached, a sudden ...