The Man Whisperer Program: Break Your Husband in Thirty Days – ebook

Excerpt

Bailey tossed her kid-glove, leather bag onto the diner booth bench across from her sister and slid in after it; Lily had already ordered—and been served.

Bailey could have called it with her eyes closed: bacon cheeseburger platter, onion rings instead of fries, a cup of coffee in addition to a Coke, and a glass of water.

Too much fat; too much caffeine; not enough time to hassle over this—just a quick minute to marvel, yet again, over her younger sister’s, seemingly eternally, trim figure—a hundred and nineteen pounds, soaking wet, you were required to say.

Well—for the most part—this was just how she ate when she was out and around; home was a different, rather more disciplined, environment.

Four years younger than Bailey’s twenty-nine-going-on-forty, Lily looked about the same age: undergrad and two years for an MBA in Arizona had baked in a few lines and creases.

Well: Mom had warned her; we make our choices.

“Shoulda come with,” Lily said, around a mouth full of onion rings, “had a coupon. Get you all lasered up, ready for the beaches to open—what?—two, three weeks from now. Trim the shrubbery.”

Bailey took half an onion ring, nibbled at it.

“Done with that.”

Which made her sister stop chewing.

“Done with what-now? Basic . . . maintenance?”

Popping the rest of her onion-ring-fragment into her mouth, Bailey smiled broadly: “Yeah, Sis. Just gone Full-Thatch. Done. With. That.”

Lily blinked and made a face.

“Well first,” she said, “Eww! Second: what’s Bob think about this? And third: what are you going to wear to the beach, be something a little more civilized than a cavewoman?”

Bailey reached over, grabbed her sister’s coffee cup—which earned a squawk—sipped, put it back.

“Dunno,” she said, “thinking maybe spandex boy-shorts and a sports bra? Not worried.”

Lily seemed to consider that, grabbed another handful of onion rings, shrugged.

“What did you want to talk about?” Then—almost an afterthought, mouth full again “—and, wait, Bob. . ?”

Reaching over and fishing through her bag, Bailey pulled out the folder she wanted, slapped it onto the table and slid it over.

Lily’s chewing slowed as she read the cover.

“The Man Whisperer Institute?” she said, screwing up her face, “‘Hell is that?”

“You know that Medical Arts Building, down on Harlow Street?”

“One with that thousand-year-old podiatrist? Yeah.”

“They have an office on the basement level.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lily said, still chewing. “Doesn’t really tell me anything.”

“Okay,” Bailey said, nodding, “told you Bob has always been—”

“Bit of perv,” Lily interrupted, tucking into her bacon cheeseburger. “Got that memo!”

A waitress appeared tableside.

Before she could speak, Lily, mouth again full, waving for everyone else to be quiet, gave Bailey’s order: “Turkey Club on whole wheat; spinach instead of lettuce; no mayo; no fries; coleslaw’s okay; diet Sprite with no ice.”

The waitress looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment; Bailey closed her eyes and nodded; the waitress walked off.

Lily stopped chewing, went still, fixed her sister in a steady gaze.

“Spill, Bails,” she said. “What’s going on?”

Bailey blushed, nodded, cleared her throat.

“I’m granting Bob his . . . wishes—well, what he thinks his wishes are anyway.”

Lily just pursed her lips and waited.

Bailey looked away for a moment, then back at Lily, seeming calmer, and resolute. “I’m going to be his Strict Dommy Mommy—”

Lily actually pulled her head back in surprise.

“He’s going to be my Chaste Good Little Boy—”

Lily blinked and began to smile.

“And I’m going to—” Bailey stumbled there for just a moment, the words catching in her throat, “take lovers.”

Bailey nodded, blew out a breath of relief, reached over again for her sister’s coffee cup; as she lifted it to sip, Lily raised her water glass as well, gesturing a toast across the table, though she didn’t try to clink glass against ceramic.

“Way-to-Go Bails!” she said with enthusiasm and seeming approval.

Then, taking a brief sip of water, she said: “Take lovers? What are you, a character in a Jane Austen novel?”

Bailey shrugged, raised her eyebrows.

“Okay,” she said. “You want modern? I’m going to get fucked on a regular basis by whoever I want to. How’s—?”

The waitress smoothly landed a tray of food between them and began to unload it.

“Power to you, Sister,” she said with a quiet smile as she withdrew again.

Lily shook her head back and forth in wonder.

“So this,” she said, tapping a finger on The Man Whisperer Institute folder, “is where you’re getting . . ?”

Bailey gave a little hum of assent, as she removed the toothpicks from her club sandwich.

“Guidance and support. After lunch?” she said, “Take you to a meeting—if that might be of any . . . interest to you.”

Lily reached over and grabbed a quarter of her sister’s sandwich, took a big bite, with gusto, spoke through the food: “Oh-Hell-Yeah! I’m interested.”