Pillow Talk (Champagne Challenge #135) -- PG-13
Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2012 11:00 pm
I seem to be writing more of these than I'd planned...but hey, they're really FUN. So, meanwhile, back in 1952...
Oh, and, yeah, the usual disclaimer. I don't own the playground, I just dig in the sandbox from time to time.
Pillow Talk
“Mick?”
“Ummm?”
“Pass that cigarette over, would you?”
“Sure, baby.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Now?”
“I’ve put it off too long, already.”
“This time next week, we’ll be married. Can’t it wait until then?”
“I don’t think so, Mick. It’s—important.”
“Look, baby, whatever it is, we’ll work it out. I never asked you for true confessions. And if you’re worried about the past, well, I haven’t exactly been a monk, you know. And, I guess what I’m saying it, sauce for the goose, and all that.”
“That’s very broad-minded of you, Mick, but—Mick, come on, stop that. I’m trying to talk to you.”
“Why don’t you put that cigarette in the ashtray and come here, baby? We can always talk later.”
“Mick—“
“You drive me wild. You know that, don’t you?”
“That tickles.”
“Good. Ever since the first night I saw you, I wanted to—”
“Oh. Oh, Mick.”
“You sashaying around in that tight red dress. With that sparkler over your shoulder. It was a good thing I had a guitar to hide behind.”
“You really think that guitar hid anything from me? I could see it all in your eyes.”
“I never thought you’d pick me, Coraline. You could’ve had any man there. They all wanted you.”
“But it was you, Mick. Always you. And that’s why I need to tell you—”
“Coraline?”
“What?”
“Do you love me?”
“What?”
“Do you love me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I really need to know.”
Oh, and, yeah, the usual disclaimer. I don't own the playground, I just dig in the sandbox from time to time.
Pillow Talk
“Mick?”
“Ummm?”
“Pass that cigarette over, would you?”
“Sure, baby.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Now?”
“I’ve put it off too long, already.”
“This time next week, we’ll be married. Can’t it wait until then?”
“I don’t think so, Mick. It’s—important.”
“Look, baby, whatever it is, we’ll work it out. I never asked you for true confessions. And if you’re worried about the past, well, I haven’t exactly been a monk, you know. And, I guess what I’m saying it, sauce for the goose, and all that.”
“That’s very broad-minded of you, Mick, but—Mick, come on, stop that. I’m trying to talk to you.”
“Why don’t you put that cigarette in the ashtray and come here, baby? We can always talk later.”
“Mick—“
“You drive me wild. You know that, don’t you?”
“That tickles.”
“Good. Ever since the first night I saw you, I wanted to—”
“Oh. Oh, Mick.”
“You sashaying around in that tight red dress. With that sparkler over your shoulder. It was a good thing I had a guitar to hide behind.”
“You really think that guitar hid anything from me? I could see it all in your eyes.”
“I never thought you’d pick me, Coraline. You could’ve had any man there. They all wanted you.”
“But it was you, Mick. Always you. And that’s why I need to tell you—”
“Coraline?”
“What?”
“Do you love me?”
“What?”
“Do you love me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I really need to know.”
If you'd only let her tell you!!! 
OMG I can't even say the word, innocence and all that
Let the woman talk. Of course in typical man fashion after next week it will be "You never tried hard enough to tell me the truth." 
Sigh......
Sometimes you have to let the lady talk. 