Sandwiches finished, Keith and Kisa took their sodas and started walking toward the IRT. They got to the nearby entrance and then stood to the side, letting the mad foot-traffic come and go past them while she continued filling him in on her ex-husband’s sexual problems.
“Turns out the damn fool meant he was sex addict,” she said. “Like that guy from X-Files, you know?” Hubby swore he would get help with his problem. She’d informed him that was all well and good, but he now had two problems: couldn’t keep his fly zipped and was about to lose his shirt in divorce court. That was how she bought her partnership in the recording studio. Continue Reading →