Richard, who is my all-around good guy and occasional editor, keeps talking smack about writing a romance. He's all, well, if I were writing this, I'd say... Or, my personal favorite, he'll start his version of my stories with, Sven came in flush from his tennis lesson.

Tonight, after hearing for the umpteenth time how he would write things, I threw down the gauntlet and challenged him to actually write a romance. What follows after the asterisks is what Richard calls a man's version of a love scene.

If you're wondering, Richard does write, just not romances. Maybe that's a good thing... 🙂

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"REAL-LIFE ROMANTIC INTERLUDE" BY A MAN

Chuck walked into the den and plopped into the recliner, six-pack of PBR in hand.

Jeter’s last home game… True, this last season was mostly a farewell tour, and his batting average was horrendous, but he was Derek Jeter. The best player of his generation, a class act, the last Yankee to wear a single-digit number on his uniform. It would’ve been great to be at the stadium, or to at least have the guys over to watch on his new flatscreen. Too bad the ol’ lady had laid down the law. She said his buddies were loud slobs. At least she would leave him in peace in the man cave that only existed in his mind.

The game was uneventful, but hell, at least the Yankees were winning. Bottom of the eighth and Jeter was on deck with only one out, likely getting ready for the last home at bat of his career. Flash bulbs were exploding around the stadium.

Just as Jeter approached the batter’s box, Heidi walked into man land, wearing, well, wearing nothing other than a gleam in her eye he hadn’t seen in years. She took the PBR tallboy from his hand, sat it on the table and straddled him in the recliner. She kissed him eagerly, pulled his shorts down, and went to town. She screwed him until his eyes crossed, his toes curled, and he was babbling incoherently.

Just as he finished, Heidi whispered into his ear… “Now mow the damn grass and take out the trash.”

Chuck looked at the flatscreen just as the network went to a commercial. He had missed Jeter’s final at bat…