If I may ask a personal question...

Rating: PG


“So,” the interviewer, Kathy, said as she flipped over her piece of notebook paper, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Sting shifted in his seat and looked around. The others shrugged, and Sting told her it was alright.
“I heard from a source that you and your girlfriend are frequent practitioners of Tantric sex.” Sting looked at the reporter, mouth agape.
“Who told you that?!”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Sting looked as though he was going to strangle her for letting out something so private, until Stewart tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” he whispered to Sting, “do you know what this could do to your reputation?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m pissed.”
“No,” Stewart whispered, shaking his head, “I mean in a good way.” Sting looked at him like he just decided to start playing the Accordion.
“What?!”
“Run with this. It will drive all the women fans mad. They’ll think you’re some sort of sex god.”
“You mean I’m not to begin with?”
“Shut up and answer her question.” Sting turned back to Kathy.
“Yes, it’s true. We do.” The interviewer’s eyes lit up.
“Really?”
“Yes.” She scribbled down something on the paper.
“Care to elaborate?” Sting thought for a second.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, how different is it from regular sex?”
“Well….the positions.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. And…umm…” Sting thought for a minute.
“I thought we were going to talk about the new album,” Andy whispered to Stewart. He could only shrug. Sting’s eyebrows lowered on his forehead and a sly grin formed on his face.
“Let me answer your question with a question.”
“Ok.”
“Do you know how long I can have sex for?” Kathy looked a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
“Well, I don’t think – ”
“Do you?!”
“No…I don’t,” she replied.
“Hours!” the three of them looked at Sting in such surprise that any innocent passer-by would have thought their eyes were going to pop out of their heads.
“Excuse me?” Kathy asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.
“You heard me. I said that my girlfriend and I have sex for hours!” No one could believe what he was saying.
“You know,” Stewart said in a whisper to Sting, “when I told you to ‘run with it’, I didn’t mean this far.”
“Well,” Kathy said, “It’s been nice talking to you boys. Our time here is done. I think that I have enough for my article.” She stood up and shook all of their hands. After she left, Stewart and Andy turned to look at Sting.
“You realize what you just did, right?” Andy asked him.
“What? I just gained us a legion of female fans, just like Stewart said.”
“No no no no,” Stewart said, frantically shaking his head, “I said ‘run with it’, not ‘run with it until you reach a cliff and then jump head-first off it’.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s going to be plastered all over the papers!”
“No it’s not. They would never put somehitng like that in the newspaper.”
“Yes they will,” Andy said defiantly.
“No they won’t, you’ll see.”

The next morning, in their hotel room, Sting, Andy, and Stewart were sitting around the table eating breakfast. Stewart put down his spoon and picked up the newspaper sitting under the plate of scrambled eggs. His mouth dropped open when he read the headline:
“Police frontman: ‘I can have sex for hours!’”
“Uh…guys?” Stewart said, tapping Andy on the shoulder.
“What?”
“Lookit this.” He passed the newspaper down the line.
“Holy shit.” Andy said and put his hand to his mouth.
“What?” Sting exclaimed and tore the paper out of his hand.
“You could have asked…” Andy said sadly and took a bite of his grapefruit.
“Wha…What….I….oh my god,” Sting said staring at the headline.
“I told you that it would end up on the front page,” Stewart said.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Andy said.
“There’s one major problem,” Sting said, putting down the newspaper.
“What?”
“How the hell am I going to live up to this?”