Yet here I stood, still retaining all my faculties. It was a beautiful, clear evening with a tiny, warm breeze. At this time of the day, this close to summer, the sun was still high enough in the sky that I was able to catch sight of the Gulfstream long before its wheels touched the runway. It seemed almost impossible that inside that cabin was my beautiful wife, who I’d put through seven years of drug-addicted hell. I wondered what she was wearing and what she was thinking. Was she as nervous as I was? Was she really as beautiful as I remembered? Would she still smell as glorious? Did she still really love me? Could things ever be the same?

I found out the moment the cabin door opened and the luscious Duchess emerged with her fabulous mane of shimmering blond hair. She looked gorgeous. She took a single step forward, and then, in typical Duchess fashion, she struck a pose, with her head cocked to one side and her arms folded beneath her breasts and one long bare leg slewed out to the side, in a statement of defiance. Then she just stared at me. She had on a tiny pink sundress. It was sleeveless and a good six inches above her knee. Still holding her pose, she compressed those luscious lips of hers and started shaking her little blond head back and forth, as if to say, “I can’t believe this is the man I love!” I took a step forward and threw my palms up in the air and shrugged.

And we just stood there, staring at each other for a good ten seconds, until all at once she gave up her pose and blew me a world-class double kiss. Then she spread her arms out, did a little pirouette to announce her arrival to the city of Atlanta, and came running down the stairs with a great smile on her face. I started running toward her, and we met in the middle of the asphalt tarmac. She threw her arms around my neck and took a tiny jump and wrapped her legs around my waist. Then she kissed me.

And we held that kiss for what seemed like an eternity as we breathed in each other’s scent. I spun around in a 360, still kissing her, until we both started giggling. I pulled my lips away and buried my nose into her cleavage and sniffed at her, like a puppy dog. She giggled uncontrollably. She smelled so good it seemed almost impossible.

I pulled my head back a few inches and stared into those vivid blue eyes of hers. I said, in a dead-serious tone: “If I don’t make love to you right this second, I’m gonna come right here on the tarmac.”

The Duchess’s response was to revert to her baby voice: “Aw, my poor little boy!” Little? Unbelievable!“You’re so horny you’re about to burst, aren’t you?”

I nodded eagerly.

The Duchess went on: “And look how young and handsome you look now that you’ve gained a few pounds and your skin’s not green anymore. Too bad I have to teach you a lesson this weekend.” She shrugged. “There’ll be no lovemaking until July Fourth.”

Huh? “What are you talking about?”

In a very knowing tone: “You heard me, love-bug. You’ve been a very bad boy, so now you’re gonna have to pay the price. First you have to prove yourself to me before I let you stick it in again. For now you only get to kiss me.”

I giggled. “Get out of here, you nut!” I grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the limousine. “I can’t wait until July Fourth! I need you now—right this second! I wanna make love in the back of the limousine.”

“Nope, nope, nope,” she said, shaking her head back and forth in an exaggerated way. “It’s only kisses this weekend. Let’s see how you behave over the next two days, and then maybe on Sunday I’ll think about going further.”

The limo driver was a short, sixtyish, white cracker named Bob. He wore a formal driver’s cap, and he was standing by the rear door, waiting for us. I said, “This is my wife, Bob. She’s a duchess, so treat her accordingly. I bet you don’t get that much royalty down here, now, do you?”

“Oh, no,” said a very serious Bob. “Not much of it at all.”

I compressed my lips and nodded gravely. “I thought as much. Anyway, don’t be intimidated by her. She’s actually very down to earth, right, honey?”

“Yeah, very down to earth. Now shut the fuck up and get in the goddamn limo,” spat the Duchess.

Bob froze in horror, obviously taken aback at how someone with as royal a bloodline as the Duchess of Bay Ridge could use such language.

I said to Bob, “Don’t mind her; she just doesn’t want to seem too uppity. She’s saves her stuffy side for when she’s back in England, with the other royals.” I winked. “Anyway, all kidding aside, Bob, being married to her makes me a duke, so what I’m thinking is that since you’re gonna be our driver for the whole weekend, you might as well just address us as the Duke and the Duchess—just to clear up any confusion.”

Bob bowed formally. “Of course, Duke.”

“Very well,” I replied, pushing the Duchess into the backseat by her fabulous royal bottom. I climbed in behind her. Bob slammed the door and then headed to the plane to collect the Duchess’s royal baggage.

I immediately yanked up her dress and saw that she wasn’t wearing any panties. I pounced. “I love you so much, Nae. So, so much!” I pushed her down on the rear seat, lengthwise, and pressed my erection against her. She moaned deliciously, wriggling her pelvis against mine, giving me the benefit of a little friction. I kissed her and kissed her until after a few minutes she extended her arms and pushed me off.

Through giggles: “Stop, you silly boy! Bob’s coming back. You’ll have to wait until we get back to the hotel.” She looked down and saw my erection through my jeans. “Aw, my poor little baby”— little? Why always little?—“is ready to burst!” She pursed her lips. “Here, let me rub it for you.” She reached down with the palm of her hand and started rubbing the outline of my erection.

I responded by hitting the divider button on the overhead console. As the partition slid shut, I muttered, “I can’t wait for the hotel! I’m making love to you right here, Bob or no Bob!”

“Fine!” said a frisky Duchess. “But it’s only a sympathy fuck, so it doesn’t count. I’m still not making love to you until you prove to me that you’ve become a good boy. Understood?”

I nodded, giving her puppy-dog eyes, and we started ripping off each other’s clothes. By the time Bob made it back to the limo, I was already deep inside the Duchess, and the two of us were moaning wildly. I put a forefinger to my lips and said, “Shhhhhh!”

She nodded, and I reached up and pressed the intercom button. “Bob, my good man, are you there?”

“Yes, Duke.”

“Splendid. The Duchess and I have some very urgent business to discuss, so please don’t disturb us until we get to the Hyatt.”

I winked at the Duchess and motioned to the intercom button with my eyebrows. “Off or on?” I whispered.

The Duchess looked up, and started chewing on the inside of her mouth. Then she shrugged. “You might as well leave it on.”

That’s my girl!I raised my voice and said, “Enjoy the royal show, Bob!” And with that, the sober Duke of Bayside, Queens, began making love to his wife, the luscious Duchess of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, as if there were no tomorrow.

CHAPTER 39

SIX WAYS TO KILL AN INTERVENTIONIST

My dog needs an operation…my car broke down…my boss is an asshole…my wife’s a bigger asshole…traffic jams drive me crazy…life’s not fair…and so forth and so on…

Yes, indeed, it was drizzling something awful in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous in Southampton, Long Island. I’d been home for a week now, and as part of my recovery I’d committed to doing a Ninety-in-Ninety, which is to say: I had set a goal to attend ninety AA meetings in ninety days. And with a very nervous Duchess watching me like a hawk, I had no choice but to do it.

I quickly realized it was going to be a very long ninety days.