sunlight. St. Bart’s or maybe Southampton. The smell of salt and cocoa butter, the gritty feeling of a sandy towel. A really great method actress, I suppose, could get a tan this way, projecting herself into a memory of a beach. Then you’d know you were pretty good, I guess. But I can’t even work up a sweat right now, at this particular moment. It’s a Friday afternoon and I’m in class, trying to do sense-memory. My concentration’s shot. I’m thinking about Dean. I’m heavy in lust.
Last night we finally got to do it. We went to a movie, then dinner. Couldn’t keep my hands off him.
For some reason I was afraid it wouldn’t be very good. I mean, I hate these big dramatic buildups, they usually let you down. Patience has never been my middle name, I mean I got my first credit card when I was about twelve, and if I can’t have something right away I generally forget about it. But this, I don’t know . . .
I wanted to crawl inside of him and stay there. I wanted to disappear down his throat. I wanted to take all of him all the way up inside me.
Trouble is, this isn’t doing my acting any good. My instrument is all out of tune here. I keep thinking about Dean running his tongue up and down me, vibrations going right off the Richter scale, instead of about the hot sun on this stupid imaginary beach. If only the assignment called for a sense-memory of outrageously good all-night sex I’d be made in the shade.
I’m not sure why it was so good—we didn’t do anything really special. No video cameras, costumes, equipment or special effects. Just good old-fashioned sex, like the kind Mom used to make.
Rob walks by my chair and says, you’re not giving me anything, Alison. He gave me this assignment because last time I flipped out before I could get into it.
How about if I do something with sex? I say.
He lets out this big sigh and goes, you’re going to make a great porn star someday.
What do you mean, someday? I say.
Alex and I used to make videos of ourselves. It was pretty outrageous, but definitely a turn-on. I don’t know, I suppose some people would think that’s weird. I guess it is. With my luck the tapes will turn up just when I’m about to win the Academy Award or something.
The teacher goes, get back to the beach, Alison. See if you can keep your mind out of the bedroom for just a few hours.
So I make like Annette Funicello. I start with the memory of the smell of Bain de Soleil Number 4, remember the feel of the hot sun, skin getting really hot, hands rubbing Bain de Soleil all over my body. . . .
After class I call Dean.
Hey, big boy, I say.
Hello, beautiful, he goes. I made a terrific trade today.
It must be all that good loving, I say.
I guess you inspired me, he goes. I made two hundred thousand before lunch.
I’m like, do I get half?
Actually I made it for a client, he says.
I go, tell him I deserve a commission at least.
I’ll give you a big commission, he goes.
I’m like, how big?
We’re both driveling idiots. We sort of drool and baby talk for a while, then I tell him I’m going to tan, then shower and dress and he says he’ll pick me up around nine.
When I get home Jeannie says, Alison, I’ve got to tell you something.
I’m like, if it’s bad news I don’t want to hear it. I’m too happy.
You want a line? she says. She’s definitely wired.
No thanks, I say.
Poor Jeannie, she’s really wiped out over this Frank thing. He’s tried to call but she won’t pick up the phone and she won’t let me tell him when she’s here.
So what’s up? I go.
We got an eviction notice, she goes.
I’m like, I thought you said you’d cover me this month.
Yeah, she goes, but we owe three months.
Are you crazy? I go. I gave you my half for the other months.
What are we going to do? Jeannie says.
What do you mean, what are we going to do? What happened to the money?
Jeannie starts to sob. Oh, Alison, she goes. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.
Get this, it
Last night we finally got to do it. We went to a movie, then dinner. Couldn’t keep my hands off him.
For some reason I was afraid it wouldn’t be very good. I mean, I hate these big dramatic buildups, they usually let you down. Patience has never been my middle name, I mean I got my first credit card when I was about twelve, and if I can’t have something right away I generally forget about it. But this, I don’t know . . .
I wanted to crawl inside of him and stay there. I wanted to disappear down his throat. I wanted to take all of him all the way up inside me.
Trouble is, this isn’t doing my acting any good. My instrument is all out of tune here. I keep thinking about Dean running his tongue up and down me, vibrations going right off the Richter scale, instead of about the hot sun on this stupid imaginary beach. If only the assignment called for a sense-memory of outrageously good all-night sex I’d be made in the shade.
I’m not sure why it was so good—we didn’t do anything really special. No video cameras, costumes, equipment or special effects. Just good old-fashioned sex, like the kind Mom used to make.
Rob walks by my chair and says, you’re not giving me anything, Alison. He gave me this assignment because last time I flipped out before I could get into it.
How about if I do something with sex? I say.
He lets out this big sigh and goes, you’re going to make a great porn star someday.
What do you mean, someday? I say.
Alex and I used to make videos of ourselves. It was pretty outrageous, but definitely a turn-on. I don’t know, I suppose some people would think that’s weird. I guess it is. With my luck the tapes will turn up just when I’m about to win the Academy Award or something.
The teacher goes, get back to the beach, Alison. See if you can keep your mind out of the bedroom for just a few hours.
So I make like Annette Funicello. I start with the memory of the smell of Bain de Soleil Number 4, remember the feel of the hot sun, skin getting really hot, hands rubbing Bain de Soleil all over my body. . . .
After class I call Dean.
Hey, big boy, I say.
Hello, beautiful, he goes. I made a terrific trade today.
It must be all that good loving, I say.
I guess you inspired me, he goes. I made two hundred thousand before lunch.
I’m like, do I get half?
Actually I made it for a client, he says.
I go, tell him I deserve a commission at least.
I’ll give you a big commission, he goes.
I’m like, how big?
We’re both driveling idiots. We sort of drool and baby talk for a while, then I tell him I’m going to tan, then shower and dress and he says he’ll pick me up around nine.
When I get home Jeannie says, Alison, I’ve got to tell you something.
I’m like, if it’s bad news I don’t want to hear it. I’m too happy.
You want a line? she says. She’s definitely wired.
No thanks, I say.
Poor Jeannie, she’s really wiped out over this Frank thing. He’s tried to call but she won’t pick up the phone and she won’t let me tell him when she’s here.
So what’s up? I go.
We got an eviction notice, she goes.
I’m like, I thought you said you’d cover me this month.
Yeah, she goes, but we owe three months.
Are you crazy? I go. I gave you my half for the other months.
What are we going to do? Jeannie says.
What do you mean, what are we going to do? What happened to the money?
Jeannie starts to sob. Oh, Alison, she goes. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.
Get this, it
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