sex and sexibility

Coffee with my brother Raymond in the Costa Cafe at the White Water Centre.
"I've bad news for you about the au pair," quoth he.
"Really?" sez me.
"Yes, you're now third in the queue," quoth he.
"Whaaaat?"
"Well, she's got the boyfriend in Spain, and she's going out with an Irish guy too."
"Are you sure? I thought she was getting fonder of me."
"She's had this guy up the Wicklow mountains."
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"
"Oh yeah. They spent the weekend walking around Wicklow."
"Ah for crying out loud. She brings all the children of the revolution up the Wicklow Mountains."
"I think they climbed Lugnaquilla."
"F--king Lugnaquilla."
"All the way to the top."
The cafe had grown quiet.
"I hope the bitch worked him as hard as she worked me for as little reward," I pronounced eventually with just the faintest trace of bitterness.
It was a pithy enough summation of the situation.
But then I really was pithed off.
"So Heelers old pal., you're third in the queue," grinned Raymond with damnable heartiness.
Ireland's greatest living poet looked at his brother and shook his head.
"I'm not third," quoth me.
"What do you mean?" sez he.
"I'm fourth," quoth me.
"Fourth?"
"Yeah. She's after you as well. She wants your house."
"Ah Heelers you nut job."
I smiled but not as au pairs smile.
"Watch your back Jack," was my parting remark.