My beloved Christian and I were taking a walk around our gated community.
At OUR age, it's a good idea to exercise. Used to be, the only walking we did was behind the coffins of old friends who DIDN'T exercise.
"Use it before you lose it, Ana," Christian is fond of telling me, and, trust me, even at HIS age he hasn't lost it at all. He can still swing a paddle with the best of them.
Ping-pong, I mean.
If you thought otherwise, you have a dirty mind.
Speaking of dirty minds—and pardon me for rambling—but that reminds me of a period in our marriage when our sex life needed some... um... re-energizing. My solution was to buy Christian Viagra.
Christian's was to buy me a treadmill.
But I digress...
On our walk, we couldn't help but notice one mansion in particular with an abundance of trees, really magnificent specimens. However, as we got closer, we saw that there was a man and woman under one of them, doing, well, what men and women do in the privacy of their own recording studio.
We walked a bit further and saw TWO MORE people engaged in sex under another tree. When, under still ANOTHER tree, we saw a THIRD couple making the Beast With Two Backs, we decided to go up to the door, ring the doorbell, and find out what in the holy crap was going on.
A mature, but still very attractive, woman answered the door. She was wearing a nightie. One with fur lining the bottom. Apparently, to keep her neck warm, if you know what I mean.
You don't?
Hmm... maybe YOU should go on a few walks.
"What's going on?" Christian asked. "Why are there people having sex under those beautiful trees in your yard?"
The woman laughed.
"My dear Mr. Grey," she told my husband. "This is a brothel for the rich, and we're having a yard sale."