"Let's have a staring contest," said Jessica.
"What will we stare at?" asked Leonard, who was several ounces shy of a quart.
"Each other, Leonard, each other," she replied wearily. Jessica found that telling Leonard something twice was twice as effective as once.
"A contest?" What does the winner get?"
"Another day in paradise," she said, "a.k.a. not much."
He didn't understand, but he was used to that.
They began the staring contest, but soon Leonard forgot what they were doing and started staring at Jessica's breasts instead of her face. Since he wasn't laughing, or even blinking, he hadn't lost the contest, but this was clearly a violation of the rules, as any school child knows. But Leonard was no school child. Yet he was an adult only in years. He had the mind of a simpleton, but the penis of a Clydesdale, which was why Jessica had married him in the first place.
"You won the staring contest, Leonard," she said. He clapped his hands and squealed.
They retired to the bedroom for the third time that day. There were eight million stories in the naked city, and Jessica would tell Leonard one of the dirtier ones to get him aroused.