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Milkrun Page 18


  Weird. So what do you think?

  11:30 a.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: I’m here!

  Sorry I didn’t get back to you this weekend. My workload is out of control. I don’t have a second to eat, never mind talk on the phone. Judging from your thesis, you’re not quite as busy as I am at the office.

  I hate my life.

  What am I saying? I don’t have a life.

  He sounds like a sweetheart. Don’t screw it up.

  Wednesday

  10:30 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: List

  A. Good things about Tim:

  1. He’s sweet.

  2. He’s cute.

  3. He cares about his grandmother.

  4. He plans fun activities. (Maybe he’ll take me skiing, or even apple picking. Or karaoke. I’ve always wanted to try karaoke, but you always refused to come with me.)

  5. He’s sweet.

  6. He’s cute.

  7. He likes kids (not an immediate bonus, but definitely good in the long run).

  8. He’s cute.

  9. He thinks I’m cute.

  B. Bad things about Tim:

  1. He lives at home. (Will he be allowed to sleep over?)

  2. He goes to sleep really early. (What’s the point of having a boyfriend if Sam is the last person I usually speak to before I go to sleep?)

  C. Conclusion:

  Good presently outweighs bad. Yay!

  Week 3, Monday

  9:30 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Third date

  He brought chocolates. Wasn’t that sweet? And they’re the kind that are filled with pastel crème. Except he said, “Hope you like them, babe.” Now I have to make a revision to “Bad things about Tim.” New entry (B3): He called me “babe.”

  We went for Italian in the north end. We had to wait a half hour outside in the freezing cold for a table, but Tim swore they made the best Caesar salad in the city. He insisted on treating, even though I did the fake reach. The Caesar salad was pretty amazing, but I was so looking forward to dessert (if you get my drift), that I hardly tasted a thing.

  When he pulled up in front of my house I told him I had a great time. “Me, too,” he replied.

  It was so time for the kiss. I was freaking out at this point, wondering if I should just kiss him and get the ball rolling. Should I just grab him? But wouldn’t he do the grabbing if he were really interested? What would the Fashion Magazine Fun Fact be to speed up this painstakingly slow process? To draw attention to my lips? Oh, why didn’t I bring a lollipop?

  I started licking my lips.

  “Are your lips dry?” he asked. “I have some ChapStick, if you’d like.”

  “Uh…no thanks.” And then I decided that if he didn’t kiss me in the next twenty-five seconds, our relationship was over.

  He put his hand on my cheek and then—get this—asked, “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

  How sweet was that?

  And he did.

  5:00 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re: Third date

  So? I want kiss details!!!!!!!

  Tuesday

  9:15 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Re:Re: Third date

  It was pretty good. Except that he tasted like Caesar salad dressing.

  By the way, I called him last night to ask him if he wants to see a cheapie movie tonight.

  11:30 a.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re: Third date

  You called him? You’re joining the women’s movement after all!

  P.S.

  What happened to the once-a-week plan?

  11:35 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re: Third date

  I’ve evolved.

  2:37 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Third date

  So how long are you going to wait…?

  2:40 p.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Third date

  Not much longer!

  4:42 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Third date

  How long is not much longer?

  4:50 p.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Third date

  What time is it now? Ten to five? The movie will be over by twelve, right? In a little over seven hours the six-month dry spell will be over!

  4:59 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Third date

  SLUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:-)

  Wednesday

  9:30 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Fourth date

  Unfortunately I’m not a slut. But I am trying very hard. There wasn’t even any hand-brushing in the popcorn (but that’s because I had sours instead), or a secret shoulder squeeze in the dark.

  Even the movie was good.

  I invited him up later. I kissed him in the elevator. He kissed me back. He sat down next to me on the couch. I turned on Law and Order, which was just starting (the movie was shorter than anticipated).

  Technically, it was his turn to kiss me.

  But no.

  Ten minutes passed. He still hadn’t puckered up.

  Twenty more minutes passed. We were already at the Order part…

  I didn’t understand what he was waiting for, considering that he supposedly gets up early and it was already almost midnight. He was too fixated on the TV to notice my impatience—or my existence altogether. At the commercial, I attempted a snuggle.

  Finally, he remembered he wasn’t alone, and the kissing began. But ten minutes later, he yawned and asked me out for Saturday night (all in one breath). And then he left.

  Why would he have asked me out again if he doesn’t want to fool around? Do I have B.O.? Please tell me the truth.

  Did I tell you he volunteers for Just-a-Meal? In the winter he drives around Boston, handing out sandwiches to homeless people. And he organizes the Boston blood drive. He has lots of causes. I think he may be a saint. Do saints wait longer than normal people to have sex? Do saints even have sex?

  How can I make my practically regrown hymen one of his causes?

  Thursday

  3:00 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re: Fourth date

  You have to be dead before you can be canonized.

  You do not have B.O.

  Week 4, Monday

  9:30 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com
>
  Subject: Fifth date

  There was physical contact, sort of. His hand lightly grazed the outside of my shirt. The whole scene played itself out on the couch.

  I’m seeing him again tomorrow. I’m trying to convince Sam to sleep at Philip’s (the guy from the bookstore). I don’t want anything around to distract him.

  Why do you have to be dead before getting canonized? They do it to pets all the time. Kidding.

  3:00 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re: Fifth date

  Better keep Sam around. Sounds as if Tim can use all the help he can get! Also kidding.

  Wednesday

  11:26 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Sixth date

  I think I have a boyfriend. We escaped the couch last night and made it to my room. My bra finally came off. But that’s all that got off last night.

  This is all taking a lot longer than anticipated. Do you think my boyfriend is a sexual?

  3:00 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re: Sixth date

  Do I think he’s a sexual what? Or do you mean “asexual”? Don’t you get paid to proofread?

  Friday

  11:00 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: S.Emerson@speedymail.com

  Subject: Help!

  Have I ever given you permission to go to sleep before I come home? I needed to talk to you!! I saw Tim again last night and he still hasn’t made the big move. It’s been a month! Is there something wrong with him, or am I fat and ugly? Be honest.

  P.S.

  The kids at his school have gone farther than we have. What’s wrong with this picture?

  2:00 p.m.

  From: “Sam Emerson”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re: Help!

  I think he’s gay.

  2:06 p.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: S.Emerson@speedymail.com

  Subject: Re:Re: Help!

  Why would he keep asking me out if he doesn’t like women?

  2:10 p.m.

  From: “Sam Emerson”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re: Help!

  Gay.

  2:18 p.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: S.Emerson@speedymail.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re: Help!

  He doesn’t seem gay. It would be far too wasteful for womankind if he was gay. And he has all these causes. And he wears great clothes. Manlyclothes. Do you think he’s just taking his time? Maybe he doesn’t want to rush things.

  2:20 p.m.

  From: “Sam Emerson”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Help!

  Nope. Gay.

  Week 5, Wednesday

  1:30 p.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: I give up.

  It’s been five weeks and he still hasn’t tried to sleep with me. I’m starting to think he’s a virgin. A twenty-six-year-old male virgin. And here I thought he was a real hands-on kind of guy!

  I know some (a few) female virgins, but male virgins? Do you think he’s all moral and waiting for marriage, or just hasn’t found anyone to do it with? I’ve heard about this “abstinence” trend.

  A lot of the heroines in Cupid books are virgins. I don’t think any of the heroes are, though. Wouldn’t that be something a guy would mention? Virgin men should wear a painted sign around their necks. A big, scarlet V. It should be a law.

  Does this mean we’re never going to do it?

  Thursday

  11:10 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re: I give up

  Maybe abstinence will make him propose faster. Have you met his parents yet?

  Friday

  9:22 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Re:Re: I give up

  No, I keep telling him that it makes more sense for him to come to my place than for me to go to his. Besides, we’ve only been dating for five weeks! We’re not really at the meet-the-parents stage yet.

  11:03 p.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re: I give up

  Let me get this straight. You haven’t known him long enough to meet the people he lives with, yet you’ve known him long enough to share the most intimate experience two people can share—exchanging bodily fluids…and I don’t mean kissing.

  Week 6, Monday

  11:00 a.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re: I give up

  So what are you suggesting, that I shouldn’t have sex, or that I should meet his parents?

  Helen just plopped a huge manuscript on my desk. I don’t even know why she’s giving this to me. Shauna’s the one who usually circulates this stuff. This one doesn’t have any of the proper forms—getting sloppy, are we, Helen? I’m not even finished with The Virgin Sighed with Pleasure, but she wants me to get started on this right away. It’s called The Millionaire Takes a Bride. Now that’s original.

  Not that I’d mind meeting a millionaire. Or being a bride. But why aren’t these books ever about normal, everyday guys? Like social workers?

  11:10 a.m.

  From: “Wendy Berger”

 

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: I give up

  On second thought, forget the parents. Go for the gusto. Your challenge will be an inspiration to all womankind! Go forth and conquer!

  Friday

  1:05 p.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: S.Emerson@speedymail.com; WendyBerger@petersonmarcus.com; Nat.Moore@speedynet

  Subject: HELP!!!

  Calling all girls! It’s been six weeks! It’s going to be this weekend or never! Any suggestions?

  2:00 p.m.

  From: “Natalie Moore”

  To: JacquelynNorris@cupid.com

  Subject: Re: HELP!!!

  Six weeks! Six weeks and you haven’t slept with him? Why don’t you just make the first move already? Just tell him you want to have sex. Or say, “I want you.” Even better, tell him, “I want you inside me.” That one’s a killer. You always tell me never to underestimate the power of prepositions. So use one!

  Orgasm tonight?

  3:15 p.m.

  From: “Jacquelyn Norris”

  To: Nat.Moore@speedynet

  Subject: Re:Re: HELP!!!

  I doubt if I could say that without laughing. But you’ve given me an idea. First I’ll read him an excerpt from The Millionaire Takes a Bride, the book I’m editing. Here’s a good line: “His fingers slipped between her silky thighs to toy with the tiny pink plug that lay there waiting, the trigger to her passion, and a searing heat raced through her veins.” Then I’ll manage to allude to the sentence (indirectly) while we’re watching Law and Order. Logan will pull out his gun, and I’ll wink and say, “Do you think he’s toying with his gun?” Or maybe
, “Do you think there’ll be a bang?”

  I can’t come to Orgasm tonight. Tim and I have plans. Actually, I have plans for him. Tonight’s the night. It’s the weekend. It’s Friday. Sam’s staying at Philip’s. I’m going to straighten my hair. I’m even making dinner.

  Do you think macaroni and cheese is an aphrodisiac?

  13

  The Quasi Girlfriend Sighed

  MY NIGHT STARTS OFF JUST LIKE PAGE ninety-four of The Millionaire Takes a Bride. Except that the hero’s not a millionaire and I’m not his bride.

  After dinner they move into her bedroom. He devours her with kisses, his mouth pulled toward hers by an indefinable magnetic attraction. He unbuttons her pale azure blouse with agonizingly deliberate motions, never once abandoning her lips. Finally, he removes her blouse, exposing the creamy smoothness of her flesh (and her wonderful cleavage, thanks to Victoria’s Secret). His hands caress her soft shoulders, her upper arms, the curvaceous swell of her belly (my euphemism for she hasn’t been doing her morning sit-ups), and he dips beneath her bra. He unclasps it (it’s a front enclosure; she’s surprised he’s worked that out so quickly), and her pale breasts spill onto his eager hands. He caresses her right breast first, and then the left (our hero is very methodical), and then flicks his tongue across her silky, erect nipples (again, right first, left next). Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowers his hands down to the small of her back, and with an urgency he can’t deny, crushes her against his taut chest.

  She sinks into him, resting her luscious mouth against his earlobe. Her hips involuntarily writhe against him, as she hungrily pulls him on top of her. Intense heat burns through her thighs, threatening to consume her body and soul. Her fingers clench his hair, his back, his shoulders.

  With a groan (he’s a noise-maker! Yay!), he rips her skirt and panties away. (What girl actually uses the term “panties”? Oh, and his jeans have already been removed—did I forget to mention this?) She reciprocates by pushing off his boxers. (Boxers? What kind of a hero wears boxers?) The moment has arrived.