“You are trying to kill me,” I say as it becomes easier to breathe. “Death by orgasms?” I laugh. “It would be one of those uncomfortable conversations. I’ve never had to give a notification like, ‘Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry to inform you that your brother died while having an orgasm.’” Phoebe laughs softly. “Can you imagine the eulogy? Dear friends, Asher was a good man, loving father, brother, and friend. He served his town with respect and dignity. He was a freak in the bed, and his heart just couldn’t take it when he was banging the nanny.”
