“I’ve got plenty of prime years left,” he scoffs, lifting me onto his lap so I can feel his growing erection, “and when the grey comes in, I’m going to let myself go. Eat fried chicken and drink whole milk.” “Ah, well, I have no say in this? I’ll be stuck with a chunky chicken-fried Frenchman?” “You will love me anyway,” he says in his thick brogue, again nestling into my neck. “Even if I’m fat and grey.”
