CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE – DRUNKEN TRYSTS

"You really think this movie is that funny?" she whispered skeptically. "Oh man, it's the funniest thing I've seen in forever!" Vito assured her, taking another swig of beer. "These guys are comedy geniuses." Joan turned her attention to the screen, struggling to follow the absurdist plotline. She couldn't deny that certain scenes were clever and well-executed. But after about twenty minutes, she was struggling not to become impatient with the endless stream of crass jokes and gratuitous raunchiness. Unable to concentrate, she found herself admiring Vito's profile, punctuated by the strong jawline and slightly crooked nose that she loved. Mischievously, she began tracing patterns along the contours of his arm, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. She delighted in the way his breath began hitching ever so slightly at her persistent ministrations. Two hours and several drinks later, Joan was doubled over, tears of laughter streaming down her face as Vito regaled her with his