Jennie
The report I turn in goes over very well. Apparently, the author was pleased with what she saw and called to thank us, which in turn earned me some praise from the editor and a chance to write again. I'll be a full-time copy editor and part-time journalist, and while it's a small step, the news is thrilling.
"That's so fucking awesome, baby," Lisa tells me later that night. She's sitting across from me at the kitchen table at my place; we're eating a grand, complicated dinner I decided to cook in celebration, and I didn't have to ask Lisa twice before she agreed to come over. The best part is having her here.
"Thank you." I'm smiling, and my face is flushed from the excitement, but I don't care. "I was thinking of you when I did it. All of it."
Lisa looks at me. "Oh?"
I nod. "You said if I wanted to be a writer then I needed to take that step somehow...even if it was small. I almost didn't volunteer, because it was kind of nerve-wracking, you know? But I did it and now it's opening up doors for me."
I smile, and Lisa's returning grin is breath-taking. "I knew you could do it, Jennie. You just have to have confidence in yourself."
"I do." At least I do now. "Thank you, Lisa."
"You didn't have to cook, you know," he says. "We could have gone out to celebrate."
"I wanted to cook. I like staying in sometimes."
"What did you want to do after dinner?"
"We could watch a movie. I rented another funny one - The Hangover."
But we don't even make it to the couch, and the movie certainly never sees my DVD player. Instead, she holds my hips while I ride her, my cries muffled against her lips as she flips me over and pushes into me with long, steady strokes.
This is where I want to be.
