Quitcher Belly Achin'

Enough with all of this melodrama, let's get on with this show. Here's a bit of what I wrote at 3:00 a.m. the other night. Remember, I don't edit, I just type and stop when I'm done. I might go back and add a scene or a line, but no correcting until the thing is finished. So please ignore any grammar mistakes, repetitive words, etc. Hopefully, just have a laugh. This is Skye and her cousin Jude at lunch. Remember, Jude is referred to as the Pink Lady, she's romance writer Angelique Fuqua. Anyway, here's what I do when I'm up in the wee hours.


Jude looked up from her napkin, which now resembled a piece of origami, if the artist were on drugs. “I have a confession to make” she whispered, scanning the crowd to see who was close by. “I’m a big liar. A fake.”
Leaning forward, Skye looked into the other woman’s eyes. “You’re really cousin Larry in drag?”
That finally brought a smile to her cousin’s face. “No, I’ve seen him in drag, he’s prettier.” Leaning closer still, Jude almost climbed on top of the table. “I’m not that experienced.”
“In what?” Skye felt ridiculous whispering as if they were trading state secrets.
“You know. Experienced.” Jude waggled her perfectly plucked brows.
Skye sat back. “Huh? Wait a minute, I was there, well not actually there, but it was in college. You lost it to Robert Lewiston, second semester.”
“Yeah.”
“And you dated him for quite a while.”
“Uh huh.”
“What do you mean, uh huh?”
Once again Jude looked around. “Three times.”
“You dated him more than three times. It was almost two semesters.”
Grabbing her cousin’s shirt front, Jude hauled Skye up against the table. “We had sex three times.”
TMI alert. “Yuck Jude, like I wanted to know that?” Ugly image stuck in my head thankyouverymuch.
“And then how long was it before I went out with someone else?”
“You were always going out.”
“I was always going out in groups. I’m talking about dates.”
Skye stopped to think. “I just assumed you were getting over Robert. Wait, there was Sam whatshisname.”
“Once.”
“Let me get this straight. Every time I toss out a name, you’re going to tell me how many times you did the horizontal?”
Jude sighed. “And only the horizontal. No other positions whatsoever.”
“This is way more information than I want to know Judith. And definitely not the conversation to have at a busy downtown Dallas plaza at lunch time.”
Bristling at the mention of her proper name, Jude tossed her salon streaked hair and glared again at Skye. “I’m trying to share my troubles with you Skye Wisteria. You think I’m perfect, that I’m the golden girl, just like everyone else. But I’m not. I’m wrapped up in this whole romance thing and I’m a fraud. And now my editor has called me on it.”
“She knows how many times you’ve had sex?”
“No! But my sales are down. The readers want more than storm tossed seas and crackling fires. They want sex. The fantasy, the romance, the feelings.” Jude released Skye and sat back in her seat. “Ten times, maybe eleven.”
“In all?” Skye felt just a little glow of pride. I’ve had sex more than the Pink Lady.
“They say I’m frigid. Frigid.” Jude’s voice rose. “Me, the Queen of Romance.” Standing up, she gestured towards Skye. “How can I give my readers an orgasm if I’ve never had one.”
Two old ladies at the next table dropped their spoons and stared at Jude.
“You might want to sit down now while I crawl under the table.” Skye eyed her cousin like one eyed a raving lunatic. At any moment now Rod Serling is going to step out and tell us not to adjust our sets, we’ve entered The Twilight Zone.
Jude sat down, nearly in tears. “What have I done?”
“Embarrassed yourself, not to mention poor innocent me, in front of a majority of the working class of a major U.S. city. Other than that, nothing big.”
“I’ve just got to have an orgasm.”
“Now?” Skye looked around anxiously, not sure that, in her present state, her cousin wouldn’t attempt it.
Drying her eyes with a napkin, Jude smiled. “No, not now. I don’t have BOB with me anyway.”
“I so want to end this conversation.”