That night we were roaming around in the city. We already had some beer and vodka, and we both were feeling a bit dizzy.It was cold. I was telling her...about one of my funny incidents, and she had a laugh attack. Her arm was interlocked around mine as we walked down the street. The street was empty, lightened by the yellow street lights. I stared at her gleaming face as she was laughing.And I couldn’t hold myself. I took the glove off and gently placed my palm on her cheek, caressing it with my. You." I kiss the whip which left burning marks on my flesh. It is routine with me. "Well, take the whip and beat the girl."I have never beaten anybody. Beating me is all right. But me beating others? Out of question. I feel a sheer horror, a forceful prompting to escape. I want to say: "Never. Rather beat me to death."At the same moment i notice something. A faint smile on Barebo's lips.What! Is it possible...I can't ask her. But, in spite of everything...I don't hesitate any more. I wink.And,. " Not next to nothing," she corrected. "I do cover my top, don't I? It's just these poor legs of mine that need some air-conditioning from time to time." Poor?" You know what I mean..." Right." Realizing that this might lead to an awkward turn in the conversation, I changed the subject. "So what you are saying is that we don't have to look for a replacement for Machamma?" Yes. We've got me instead." My little housewife," I quipped.She nodded her head. "Your little housewife." It struck me that. Well, fast forward two years, and the success of the movie led todiscussions of a TV show to act as a sequel to the movie, and I havemanaged to get my hands on the plot for the first proposed season.The season would open with the two men struggling with the fallout of theevents of the movie, and as the season would progress, the audience wouldsee Joe fighting an inexplicable depression that even his new bridecouldn't seem to make any better.Meanwhile, Jack Lemmon's character "Jerry" was even.
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