But that’s not what I care about. What am I, for that matter? I’m 47 and married, I have a bit of a belly from too many late night dinners and not...enough exercise, my dick is six inches long and not some ten-inch monster, and I don’t really have anything to offer you except maybe some friendship. My life isn’t perfect at home, but I’m not the kind of guy who will give up on it, just because it isn’t perfect. Maybe I don’t have the balls to change, but it’s also about thinking about other people. "I don't think this is going to end well, Ben," she told me before she hung up.I sent Mark and Lucy out to Paradise Court and I told Jenny and Michelle it was OK to head home early. Once they left the office, I returned to my desk and dialed my wife's extension. It went straight to voicemail so I exited out the system and punched the zero button. That directed the call to the gargoyle's desk. She answered promptly, perhaps seeing the extension I was using started with "8" and thinking it was a. More

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