Let me brag on myself. Eight smokin' HOT pages. No big deal to most of you but considering my typical glacial pace...zippity-doo-dah!
Consider also that these same eight pages comprise a love scene that's been mostly in my head, perhaps a page of which has been on paper, for five freakin' weeks.
"You want to get into her pants, Cole?"
"Your noncommittal grunts don't really translate well in this format."
Turns out Cole did have a few things to say about the percolating, but going- nowhere-fast, sex scene.
"You're putting me in a spa robe? That'll be the day, sister."
"And what? That's the best you can do?"
"Come on, Cole. I gave you Timberlands before."
"The next time I slide that glass door open and step onto that deck, I'm barefoot, baby."
"Right. Barefoot. Spa robe. See how that works?"
"See how that DOESN'T work?"
"Robe drops. And?"
"What do you suggest?"
He whistles a little David Rose ditty made famous in a long ago Noxzema shaving cream commercial.
"That is so not you, Cole."
"Sure about that?"
"What if I'm after something?"
"You mean besides sex?"
"Hmm. Okay. Jeans, flannel shirt. Got it."
"And lose the champagne bucket. That's so not me, either."
Yay! Onto the next scene.