Page 117 of The Rules of Dating

That was it. The thought of Billie on her knees with my cock down her throat was too much to handle. We were going to have to take a quick intermission. I plucked the packet of papers and pen from Billie’s hands and tossed them over my shoulder before scooping her off the couch and into my arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I get the questions right. How am I supposed to answer your favorite position if you haven’t ridden me reverse cowgirl? You wouldn’t want me to risk failing this test, would you?”

Billie’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Definitely not.”

***

“Mr. and Mrs. Lennon?”

Two days later, a man with a handlebar mustache called our names. We’d been waiting for the better part of an hour in uncomfortable plastic seats. I stood and held my hand out for Maya to walk first, and we followed the guy down a dimly lit hall toward a conference room with no windows.

“I’m Officer Richard Weber.” He slid a business card across the table to us. “I’m the officer assigned to your immigration application. Can I have some picture ID from both of you, please?”

I dug into my wallet and pulled out my driver’s license, while Maya took out an expired passport from Ecuador. The officer examined them both carefully, looking between the photo IDs and our faces a few times before handing them back and taking his seat.

“You should have received some papers that contain a notice of your rights during this hearing,” he said. “Twice actually. Once in the mail with your appointment letter, and again today from the receptionist when you signed in. Have you received these notices?”

Maya and I looked at each other and nodded. “We have,” she said.

“Any questions about your rights?”

We both shook our heads.

“Good. Then let’s get started.” The officer picked up a pen and clicked the top, then looked directly at me. “Mr. Lennon, how do you normally greet your wife when you see her?”

My forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“It’s pretty straightforward. When you see your wife, perhaps when you get home from work or whatever, do you give her a hug, a kiss on the lips, kiss on the cheek, maybe? Shake her hand?” He shrugged. “Or perhaps no physical greeting is exchanged?”

Fuck. That definitely hadn’t been a question on the sheets Maya made me fill out. But I decided to stick to the method Billie and I had used to come up with thirty pages of answers and responded as if the question applied to my relationship with her. “I kiss her on the lips.”

He held my eyes. “Yet when you arrived today, you didn’t kiss your wife hello. Is that correct?”

My face must’ve asked the question I was thinking because the officer shrugged. “I happened to be coming in from my break when you walked up, and I saw you greet Mrs. Lennon.”

Maya jumped in. “We…had a bit of an argument last night.”

The officer kept his focus solely on me. “What was the fight about, Mr. Lennon?”

I was suddenly nervous as shit and drawing a complete blank. So I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Maya ran up the cell phone bill, and I was upset about it.”

“How much was the bill?”

“Uh, I think about three-hundred dollars.”

“And what is it normally?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a hundred.”

“Do you two have the same cell phone provider?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He jotted something down on his yellow notepad. “As a follow up, after this hearing, I’d like a copy of both of your cell phone bills for the last sixty days.”

Fuck.