lady? The show is about to begin.”
“It would be better if we physically went through the motions. Let’s use your table and chairs.” She went to his small kitchen set, her papers in her hand, the tail of her terry robe dragging on the floor.
“May I take you on a tour of the constellations?” Here your man would sweep his hand at the sky. “Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Perseus. In one version, Cassiopeia was a vain queen who bragged about her beauty and made the other goddesses quite angry. She was told the only way to save herself was to sacrifice her daughter Andromeda by chaining her to a rock and letting a sea monster kill her. But Perseus killed the monster in true hero style, rescued Andromeda and married her. As a punishment for her vanity, Cassiopeia spends half of her time in her chair upside down.”
Leslie grabbed Michael’s hand and tugged him toward the door.
“Where are we going?”
“Up on the roof. You wanted reality, let’s do it right.”
Leslie exploded out of the door onto the roof of the building and padded across the hard surface to stretch her arms around and laugh up at the sky. Michael couldn’t believe it. There was a table with chairs, just as he had imagined. There was even a couch, its beige faux leather mottled and cracked.
“Instead of sitting in the chair, let’s say he pushes her gently down on the top of the table,” Leslie said, grabbing Michael’s shirt and bringing him so close to her that he could smell her shampoo, a lavender scent. “Now point out the stars and while you’re talking, edge yourself up on the table so that you’re sitting next to me.”
Michael wanted to say, who is directing this scene, anyway, but he did what she told him to do.
She turned her beautiful face up to him. “Now what would a guy do?”
“Well, if he still has his wits about him, he would say, “I am glad you are not chained to a rock. I am not very good with sea monsters.”
“Oh, Michael. That’s just crazy enough that I like it. What would she say?”
“Well, that is your part.”
“Right, I forgot. I guess I’d be honest and say, “How are you with women?”
“I would be honest and say, “I am not very good with them, either.”
“Oh, that’s perfect. He’s pretending he’s as inept as she is.” Leslie grabbed up the pad she’d carried up with her and scribbled fiercely for a bit. “Wow, I guess it’s my turn. In true woman-like fashion, I wouldn’t want him to feel bad about himself. I’d say something like, “I bet that’s not true. I think you’re an interesting guy and I’m sure other women would, too.”
“I do not care about other women. I only care about you.”
Ping.
“That sounded very…sincere. I’m not sure my guy in this play would be that sincere.”
Michael thought quickly. “He would if he were trying to seduce her.”
“I guess you’re right about that. That line would be hard to resist. But she’d be skeptical. She’d give him a cliché line like, “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
“He would say, No, I have never said that to any woman before, and lean in and kiss her.”
Leslie looked so lovely in the moonlight, so vulnerable in her no nonsense pajamas and terry robe, that Michael captured her cheeks in his hands and leaned over to touch his lips to hers, just a feather light brush and then again, longer this time, sliding his tongue across her lips.
When he lifted his mouth and looked into her eyes, she gave him a dazed look, as if she couldn’t believe what had happened. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with twice the ardor. While he struggled to recover from the eroticism of her kiss, she pulled away from him and looked as if she didn’t understand anything about this. “We’re just acting out the script, right?”
He hesitated. “That was what you wanted, yes?”
Flustered, she said, “Yes, yes of
“It would be better if we physically went through the motions. Let’s use your table and chairs.” She went to his small kitchen set, her papers in her hand, the tail of her terry robe dragging on the floor.
“May I take you on a tour of the constellations?” Here your man would sweep his hand at the sky. “Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Perseus. In one version, Cassiopeia was a vain queen who bragged about her beauty and made the other goddesses quite angry. She was told the only way to save herself was to sacrifice her daughter Andromeda by chaining her to a rock and letting a sea monster kill her. But Perseus killed the monster in true hero style, rescued Andromeda and married her. As a punishment for her vanity, Cassiopeia spends half of her time in her chair upside down.”
Leslie grabbed Michael’s hand and tugged him toward the door.
“Where are we going?”
“Up on the roof. You wanted reality, let’s do it right.”
Leslie exploded out of the door onto the roof of the building and padded across the hard surface to stretch her arms around and laugh up at the sky. Michael couldn’t believe it. There was a table with chairs, just as he had imagined. There was even a couch, its beige faux leather mottled and cracked.
“Instead of sitting in the chair, let’s say he pushes her gently down on the top of the table,” Leslie said, grabbing Michael’s shirt and bringing him so close to her that he could smell her shampoo, a lavender scent. “Now point out the stars and while you’re talking, edge yourself up on the table so that you’re sitting next to me.”
Michael wanted to say, who is directing this scene, anyway, but he did what she told him to do.
She turned her beautiful face up to him. “Now what would a guy do?”
“Well, if he still has his wits about him, he would say, “I am glad you are not chained to a rock. I am not very good with sea monsters.”
“Oh, Michael. That’s just crazy enough that I like it. What would she say?”
“Well, that is your part.”
“Right, I forgot. I guess I’d be honest and say, “How are you with women?”
“I would be honest and say, “I am not very good with them, either.”
“Oh, that’s perfect. He’s pretending he’s as inept as she is.” Leslie grabbed up the pad she’d carried up with her and scribbled fiercely for a bit. “Wow, I guess it’s my turn. In true woman-like fashion, I wouldn’t want him to feel bad about himself. I’d say something like, “I bet that’s not true. I think you’re an interesting guy and I’m sure other women would, too.”
“I do not care about other women. I only care about you.”
Ping.
“That sounded very…sincere. I’m not sure my guy in this play would be that sincere.”
Michael thought quickly. “He would if he were trying to seduce her.”
“I guess you’re right about that. That line would be hard to resist. But she’d be skeptical. She’d give him a cliché line like, “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
“He would say, No, I have never said that to any woman before, and lean in and kiss her.”
Leslie looked so lovely in the moonlight, so vulnerable in her no nonsense pajamas and terry robe, that Michael captured her cheeks in his hands and leaned over to touch his lips to hers, just a feather light brush and then again, longer this time, sliding his tongue across her lips.
When he lifted his mouth and looked into her eyes, she gave him a dazed look, as if she couldn’t believe what had happened. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with twice the ardor. While he struggled to recover from the eroticism of her kiss, she pulled away from him and looked as if she didn’t understand anything about this. “We’re just acting out the script, right?”
He hesitated. “That was what you wanted, yes?”
Flustered, she said, “Yes, yes of
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