Play Nice

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[This is where the summary would go if I'd bothered to write one.]

« March 04Info (3.25.04) »

What to make of waking up at 3 am and having the following lines running through your head:

  1. Daddy, what about the cookies?
  2. You’ll never be Jello!
  3. Make love to me, she says.

I don’t really know. The first two are movie lines. So I guess that’s explainable. I watch way too much TV and have a strange propensity for remembering useless movie quotes. The last I don’t have a clue about but the only way to get things like that out of my head is to let the words come out to play. Sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes, well, it’s a not so good thing. Such is life.


The woman sits, dejected, on a rumpled bed. She takes a deep breath and says softly to the man standing in front of the full length mirror, “Make love to me.”

“What?” he answers, as he meticulously knots his blue silk tie.

Standing up from the bed, her body heavy with embarrassment, she crosses the room to stand behind him. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, she asks again, “Make love to me.”

“What are you talking about?” he brusquely replies, inspecting himself in the mirror. His eyes travel every inch of his body, searching for imperfections. Finding none he turns around and looks at the naked woman in front of him.  “I just made love to you.”

She stares at him in wonder. “No. You just fucked me,” she explains.

“You’re crazy.”

“Can you not even tell the difference?” she asks as he pushes past her to pick up his jacket off the bench at the foot of the bed.

“I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work.”

“You’ve shown more care getting dressed than you did my naked body,” she softly says. Her body is flushed and were he to actually take the time to look at her, really look at her, he would see that it wasn’t from the time they just spent in bed.

She gets back into bed, crosses her legs and pulls the covers over the lower half of her body. Suddenly she feels too naked in front of this man who knows every inch of her body, sometimes better than she knows it herself she thinks.

He slides on the jacket, turning back to the mirror to once again inspect his frame. Angry as she is she can’t help but admire him. No other man looks as good in a suit, she’s always thought. Turning, he looks at her on the bed, her slight arms crossed over her breasts.

Walking to the bed he sits down next to her, reaches a hand out and pushes the hair out of her face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But I really don’t understand what the problem is. Can we just talk about this later? I’ve got a two o’clock that I can’t be late for.”

“Fine,” she says, not looking at him.

“Good,” he says, standing up. He takes a quick look at his watch and grabs his keys from the nightstand. “I’ll call you later.”

She knows he won’t, but suddenly she’s too tired to care. Closing her eyes she lets her body drop. As he leaves the bedroom her hands start to slowly roam her body. It’s time, she decides, to get to know it better than he did.

Published 03/24/04 in Writing • | Views: 2234 times | Print

4 Comments & Trackbacks

if you put these together in book form, maybe you could get fabio to pose for the cover. smile

Posted by matt  on  03/24  at  09:30 AM

What Annie said.

Posted by Jules  on  03/24  at  10:57 AM

unflinchingly told.  so true in so many ways.  never trust a man in a suit.  or out of one.

Posted by dan  on  03/24  at  03:05 PM

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