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diminishing sex drives. If it weren’t for Viagra, the guys wouldn’t have a chance of keeping up. It’s the drug of choice for swingers.” 
    I cut my eyes to his wife. She was nodding in agreement. “You don’t look like you need Viagra,” she said. “So do you want to play with us?” 
    She must have seen the confusion on my face. Before I could ask what she meant by the word “play”, she said, “I can tell you’ve never done this before. It’s okay, everybody has a first time. We want to know if you want to have sex with us.” 
    I have to admit I was stunned. I couldn’t imagine a man’s wife asking me if I wanted to have sex in front of her husband. It was inconceivable to me. I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there like a deer in head lights. Fortunately, Eric appeared and rescued me. 
    He touched me on the shoulder and asked, “Do you have a minute, Grant?” 
    The relief on my face must have been plainly visible, because Mrs. Nipples gave me a small smile and said, “It’s okay honey. You don’t have to be afraid of us.” 
    I gave her a grateful smile in return and followed Eric to a small home office off the living room. Finally, we could talk about the bizarre events of my day.
    While he has corporate offices nearby, Eric prefers to work remotely. He also likes to brag about running his company from anywhere in the world with a laptop and a cell phone.  The truth is, while Eric works hard, Kinsey is the brains behind their success. 
    Following her modeling stint in New York, Kinsey returned to school. She attended the local community college for two years before enrolling at the University of Louisville. After graduating with honors from a tough business program, she set out to build a first rate business. 
    At that time, Eric was working as a bouncer in a biker bar. Kinsey wanted more for them and it was her idea to start a security company.  Thanks to her marketing skills, the business grew rapidly. It is wildly successful and continues to earn them a good living. 
    Eric closed the office door behind us, and grabbed a robe from a closet. I was about to settle into a comfortable oversized chair, when he pointed at the stain on my trousers and said, “You smell bad, Grant. I’m pretty sure that suit is ruined. Can I get you a change of clothes?” 
    I shook my head. “Ruined, pretty much defines my life right now,” I said. 
    “Ruined…did you lose your big trial?” asked Eric. 
    “Pathogen won…but apparently I lost,” I answered. “I was played and then fired by my boss, who I think may have also been played. It gets worse, dude. I found him dead in his office.” 
    “That doesn’t make any sense, Grant. What the hell is going on?” 
    The day had gotten away from me and I rushed to Eric’s house from the office seeking the counsel of a friend, but now that I was here and had the opportunity to talk to him, I was unable to open-up and speak candidly. He was right. I was speaking in riddles and couldn’t help myself from saying, “It’s complicated, but I no longer believe I was on the right side. Nor do I believe in Pathogen’s right to protect its patents.” 
    Eric looked tired. There was something more on his mind and he didn’t seem to register my vague responses. I watched quietly as he ran his fingers through his blond hair. He didn’t say anything for several minutes and then finally opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short. His hands were trembling. 
    “Ch’ing is missing,” said Eric. 
    Ch’ing has been our martial arts teacher and mentor since we were both eight years old. Calling him our teacher doesn’t begin to describe the depth and reach of our relationship. He teaches us in the old way. Most dojo’s today are businesses, but our relationship with Ch’ing is not a financial transaction. We are tied together by bonds far greater than a tuition payment. It is a family bond that is stronger than any family I’ve ever been