"Let's go outside," he said.
"He wants to see the River. I'll be right back. Don't worry, I won't leave," she told Liz.
"Have you ever been seduced by a sailor?" he smiled as they kissed.
"No!" she suddenly realized.
"You know what they say. One in every port?" he said slyly.
One in every port? He had joined the Navy at twenty, and had no intention of leaving it, she could tell.
"I joined it because I don't like to work," he said.
Don't like to work?
"Oh. Work is so hard. It's brutal," she said sadly, looking up at him.
He had left Boston for Virginia Beach where he would be stationed tomorrow. She thought of her job as a secretary in New York City; where he had never been.
"I love your perfume," he said.
"It's Coco Chanel. I can't believe my boss got it for me!" she cried. On every occasion, her demanding staff showered her with flowers, small presents, luncheons, and now, Secretaries' Week.
"Now I know what's waiting for me in New York," he said, as he nuzzled her with his kisses on her neck, her earlobe, her cheek, her hips. He kissed a little too hard and aggressively, but she loved his hands on her waist, her hips, her chest.
"We better stop," she said, his hands on her waist, beneath his black leather jacket he had given her to wear.
"I'm a nineties chick. There are things about me that you don't understand," she said as they walked across the parking lot to the lights of the bar. He had no idea what she meant.
She stood in the entry, flustered. She could not face the bouncer, whom they had convinced to let them back in the bar.
"We're getting her coat," he had told the blond bouncer. She returned, wearing his leather jacket.
A slow song started to play. She recognized the familiar strains of "You Look Wonderful Tonight." She held onto his neck, then his collar as they danced. She leaned her head on his chest.
"I'll treasure this forever," he said, as she jotted her office and home numbers on a Chevy's matchbook.
"Even if I never see you again, I just want you to know I had a really good time," she said. He held her hand, looking sad.
0980D
Monday, October 18, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Waiting for Love: WONDERFUL Part III
You can wait another day or two, can't you?...WONDERFUL TONIGHT, Part III...Coming to Fool's Gold on Monday, October 19! if they don't draw too much blood at the Lab! (Keep reading for the exciting conclusion!) -- What's that song going 'round in my head these days? The theme song to "Charlie's Angels?" No -- I think it's the theme song to "Movie of the Week!"!!!... * * * :) -- NOT lol!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Next Up: WONDERFUL TONIGHT, Part II
Uh oohhhhh...you're gonna get an earful! But, as always, in good taste -- I hope!
YOU LOOK WONDERFUL TONIGHT
At long last, a love scene! She felt like her mother must have felt when she met her father. Towering over her in a black leather jacket, he asked her to dance. She smiled up at him on the red and white checkered dance floor in the fifties rock and roll bar. He smiled down on her as he casually danced the Twist. People her parents' age jitter-bugged around them.
"That's the jitterbug!" she cried out to her longtime friend Liz. She enjoyed this new setting.
"I'm going to have a cigarette," he said.
She felt his leather jacket against her shoulder. He came back with two cold glasses of beer.
"Let's go look at the chopper over there," he motioned. They stood on the stairs looking at the motorcycle on its small platform for a while. A blond-haired bouncer told them politely to keep off the stairs. He walked over to the glass windows and placed her on the red stool beside him. They looked down at the dark river.
"Let's pretend we're riding a motorcyle," he said. He grabbed her waist.
"I have to go find Liz," she said. "I'll come back."
"Hope you do. I like you," he said.
He had dark brown hair, straight, with a round face and squinting blue eyes. He reminded her of her younger sister's first boyfriend.
Is this how her mother felt when she met her father? Her father, with his James Dean hair, and his passion for motorcycles.
"Oh, father, you never wanted to hurt me," she sang in her mind, laden with meaning. In an interview, Madonna had explained that the song is about how you marry your father.
"When's your birthday?" she asked.
"August third!"
"Right before my father's!"
And then, "How old are you?"
"Thirty."
"Thirty! You look so young. I thought you were twenty four or twenty five."
She would have sworn he were only twenty four.
"Well, I'm twenty eight. Same," she said.
"Thirty one," he admitted.
"I like to dress up," she said.
And then, "You look great!" he burst out. He looked at her sleek black dress, black stockings, high black heels.
That made him a Leo. The Leo qualities encapsulated her father. Aquarius Moon, she thought of herself. That makes us opposites. Opposites attract.
She reveled in her Aquarian inner qualities, her eccentricity, her rebellious attitude, her own curious intellect, her outright craziness and individuality....GUESS YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO WAIT FOR LOVE -- again! See ya here Tuesday.
"That's the jitterbug!" she cried out to her longtime friend Liz. She enjoyed this new setting.
"I'm going to have a cigarette," he said.
She felt his leather jacket against her shoulder. He came back with two cold glasses of beer.
"Let's go look at the chopper over there," he motioned. They stood on the stairs looking at the motorcycle on its small platform for a while. A blond-haired bouncer told them politely to keep off the stairs. He walked over to the glass windows and placed her on the red stool beside him. They looked down at the dark river.
"Let's pretend we're riding a motorcyle," he said. He grabbed her waist.
"I have to go find Liz," she said. "I'll come back."
"Hope you do. I like you," he said.
He had dark brown hair, straight, with a round face and squinting blue eyes. He reminded her of her younger sister's first boyfriend.
Is this how her mother felt when she met her father? Her father, with his James Dean hair, and his passion for motorcycles.
"Oh, father, you never wanted to hurt me," she sang in her mind, laden with meaning. In an interview, Madonna had explained that the song is about how you marry your father.
"When's your birthday?" she asked.
"August third!"
"Right before my father's!"
And then, "How old are you?"
"Thirty."
"Thirty! You look so young. I thought you were twenty four or twenty five."
She would have sworn he were only twenty four.
"Well, I'm twenty eight. Same," she said.
"Thirty one," he admitted.
"I like to dress up," she said.
And then, "You look great!" he burst out. He looked at her sleek black dress, black stockings, high black heels.
That made him a Leo. The Leo qualities encapsulated her father. Aquarius Moon, she thought of herself. That makes us opposites. Opposites attract.
She reveled in her Aquarian inner qualities, her eccentricity, her rebellious attitude, her own curious intellect, her outright craziness and individuality....GUESS YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO WAIT FOR LOVE -- again! See ya here Tuesday.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
P.S.
I don't know if you're familiar with the song, "You Look Wonderful Tonight." It's a wonderful song by Eric Clapton. I don't know if you know the back story behind the song, but if you do...this is a FORESHADOWING of things to come...!
Next Up: YOU LOOK WONDERFUL TONIGHT
Look, you're all just going to have to wait yet another day for love...Good God! Another day???!!!...* * * :) NOT lol!
THE HOTTEST: Part III
She held her breath, anxious about making the next train to South Station, this bright sunny April morning. She wore a sweater over a turtleneck and was already beginning to sweat. Carrying her heavy suitcase inone hand and clutching her sunglasses and purse in her other, she tried to hail a cab. She crossed Third Avenue by Bloomingdale's.
Finally, she was on Fifth Avenue, and Central Park South. She eyed the cabs lined up along The Plaza Hotel, among horsedrawn carriages. "No, off duty," the cab drivers standing on the sidewalk echoed one another.
"Aren't there any cabs on duty? How do I find which cab is on duty?" she started to shout, on this bright morning in front of the well-dressed tourists outside the Plaza Hotel. And right away, a man rose and opened the door of his yellow car.
"Think I'll make it?" she said.
She curled up on the seat of the long, spacious, luxurious Amtrak train, empty of the rush hour crowd this Friday morning. She curled up on the seat with Esquire Magazine. "Is it time to get out?" she read tearfully. Is it time to quit your job as hub of the office, where you've been for three years, where everyone is crazy about you, where your boss is doing everything to drive you crazy and to keep you from being promoted? She took the quiz. She placed check marks where they applied: I know my boss's job better than she does. I'm with the company for the long haul. I want to make a lasting mark on my field. {sic}
"Sure, things may not be perfect at your job, but think about what you can do to improve your situation," read the answer to her score.
A quietness came over her. She remembered a boy from college as she relaxed on the sun-filled train to Boston. She had not felt this mellow, had time to let her thoughts wander lazily, in a long time. But now, she focused tearfully on the magazine article. When the train finally pulled into South Station, she was almost in tears. She put on her sunglasses to face Liz. She walked down the hot platform in the sunny haze. After months of endless cold...Liz greeted her at the end of the platform, smiling, in a tee shirt and shorts, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. Liz drove along the breezy highway as they chatted about work in their respective cities.
"Oh! I forgot my make-up. Can we stop somewhere? I left it at Nicole's and my apartment." Debbie suddenly realized. She picked out a bright ruby lipstick and lavender eyeshadow.
Finally, she was on Fifth Avenue, and Central Park South. She eyed the cabs lined up along The Plaza Hotel, among horsedrawn carriages. "No, off duty," the cab drivers standing on the sidewalk echoed one another.
"Aren't there any cabs on duty? How do I find which cab is on duty?" she started to shout, on this bright morning in front of the well-dressed tourists outside the Plaza Hotel. And right away, a man rose and opened the door of his yellow car.
"Think I'll make it?" she said.
She curled up on the seat of the long, spacious, luxurious Amtrak train, empty of the rush hour crowd this Friday morning. She curled up on the seat with Esquire Magazine. "Is it time to get out?" she read tearfully. Is it time to quit your job as hub of the office, where you've been for three years, where everyone is crazy about you, where your boss is doing everything to drive you crazy and to keep you from being promoted? She took the quiz. She placed check marks where they applied: I know my boss's job better than she does. I'm with the company for the long haul. I want to make a lasting mark on my field. {sic}
"Sure, things may not be perfect at your job, but think about what you can do to improve your situation," read the answer to her score.
A quietness came over her. She remembered a boy from college as she relaxed on the sun-filled train to Boston. She had not felt this mellow, had time to let her thoughts wander lazily, in a long time. But now, she focused tearfully on the magazine article. When the train finally pulled into South Station, she was almost in tears. She put on her sunglasses to face Liz. She walked down the hot platform in the sunny haze. After months of endless cold...Liz greeted her at the end of the platform, smiling, in a tee shirt and shorts, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. Liz drove along the breezy highway as they chatted about work in their respective cities.
"Oh! I forgot my make-up. Can we stop somewhere? I left it at Nicole's and my apartment." Debbie suddenly realized. She picked out a bright ruby lipstick and lavender eyeshadow.
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