Romancing The Bone

Sex sells and won as today's post. Married people generally don't have enough sex. There have been plenty of studies conducted to back that statement. We tend to get busy in other ways, like taking care of children, working and paying bills. Many women lose their sex drive after giving birth. There are lots of reasons married people aren't getting it on but I'll spare you.

Mr. Lane and I married after living in sin for a few years. For our next big trick, we conceived our son, intentionally, in my mother's converted garage. Can you feel the love? Then we had that child out of wedlock. This is what happens when Catholic girls go wild. Fox will probably being making a TV show about that soon.

I decided all of those years ago, I would take a car for a test drive before signing off on a five year loan. I might as well test drive a man before a lifelong commitment as well.

I always wanted children but never thought I would find a person who I liked enough to want to be with and have sex with for eternity. The jury is still out on the last part. (Shit. Did I type that out loud?)

When Lane 1 was about 6-months-old, I caved to the pressures of marriage. In January, we will celebrate seventeen years together and thirteen years of marriage. In that time there have been on again off again times of passion. Overall, I'd say we have a pretty healthy sex life. Compared to married friends of ours, we rule as horndogs.

Now that you know a little history, Mr. Lane and I did not plan our last getaway as an opportunity for shared passion. After all, my mom and our children were going to be with us. Sex might have been the last thing from our minds.

After checking out the bedrooms in our villa, Mr. Lane and I, in unison, told my mom that she would be in the master bedroom. There was a fireplace, a whirlpool tub, a king-size bed, a couch, TV, DVD player, dressing area, a full bathroom, a balcony overlooking a nice wooded area, and a couple of dressers and tables. She was after all, our guest. We wanted her to be as comfy as possible.

She protested with all of her might saying we should have the big room and enjoy its ambience. The only part of the room that truly interested me was the whirlpool tub. Having a bum back, there is nothing like those jets pounding away the pain.

You have to be really careful making a statement like that around my husband. Before I could explain that my back was giving me fits again, he said, "Oh yeah baby!" Then he sang, "L-L-L-Lois and the jets."

I gave him an elbow nudge. "Try to remember that's my mom standing there. And for the record, I did not want to play water sports, I simply hoped to pound the kink out of my back."

I think I heard my mother singing, "M-M-M-Mommy and the jets" but I can't be sure.

Mr. Lane assured my mother that we would be "romancing the bone" no matter where we slept. Can you imagine telling your mother in-law that you plan to get it on, with her daughter, while she is there, no matter where or what? She thankfully takes everything in stride.

We'd barely been in the villa for 20 minutes and Mr. Lane was "ready for bed."

The rest of that first day wasn't much different. At the water park, he kept "accidentally" copping a feel. At one point it was so bad he refused to go on the big water slide with me because, "Houston, we have a problem," he said, while peering toward his lower half.

I had no choice but to put that man in his place. While still in the lazy river part of the pool, I reached the band of his trunks with my toes, and pulled those suckers down. He was rightfully mortified and soon ready for that water slide.

The sexual innuendo carried on through dinner. First let me say, I know I've hyped this Grand Bear Lodge up quite a bit. It really is a great place. But if you ever go, don't eat their food. Learn from our mistake. The restaurant looks like a great place but their food leaves a lot to be desired.

Anyhow, after waiting much too long for our food to arrive, Mr. Lane was handed a plate of ribs. The kids teased him about how he intended to pay for them. (Please see Highway Lady, if that made no sense.)

He was complaining quietly to my mother and I about how crappy the ribs were. At the same time, he was going to town on them. Romancing the bone, if you will.

I leaned in, whispering in his ear and asked him if later he would treat me like a half slab. The poor guy started to choke. After turning all shades of red and purple, he smiled and raised his eyebrows at me.

Back in the villa, my mom refused to take her place in the master bedroom. "I thought we already worked this out Mother."

"Really, I don't need that big room and huge bed. You two go on."

Lane 1 said, "Yeah guys. Go on. All this mushy crap is going to make me puke."

The kid proceeded up the steps with a package of tealight candles. He lined the edge of the bathtub and began filling it up. Something about my son setting the romantic stage for me and his old man creeped me out. However, it didn't stop me from romancing the bone.

Stay tuned, tomorrow Bobby Boucher will make an appearance. And somehow, I'll work in the candle wax story too.