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“Hey baby.” That’s him speaking.
“Humm.” That’s her trying to ignore him.
“Whatcha doin?”
Thinking it’s obvious. “Reading.”
“Whatcha reading?”
“Ah … a book.”
“Is it any good?”
“No, I’m reading it because I don’t like it.” Men, she thought.
Him, studying the cover. “You’re being facetious.”
She’s impressed he even knows the word let alone how to spell it. “Why would you think that?”
“I can see your … the front of the book.”
“So?”
“So that’s a book by your favorite author, Grace Thomas.”
Not having an answer, she doesn’t answer.
“That’s two ‘answers’ in the same sentence,” he points out.
“And that should be in italics instead of single quote marks.” She turned a page.
“Have you ever tried to type a blog? You have to stop and go back and tell it to italicize then it jumps to another part of the text. Besides, she’s typing this, not me.”
“She who? Wonder when spell check is going to recognize ‘blog’ is a word?”
Ignoring the first question, he asks, “Isn’t she the one who writes all those sexy books?”
“Grace Thomas writes mystery novels.”
“Mystery novels where there’s a sex scene in every chapter.”
She knows what repeated use of the word ‘sex’ means. “I’m sure there’s not … that type … of scene in every chapter.”
“Wait. That’s the first book in the series. You’ve already read that one.”
“What’s it to you what I read?”
“There’s no other reason to read a book you’ve already read except to get hot from the porn.”
She is getting hot but it’s not sexual. “She writes erotica not porn.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well, if you don’t know I’m not going to explain it. Go look it up on the Internet where what you look at is porn.”
Now he’s mad, too. “How do you know what I look at on my own laptop?” His lap top is fizzling.
“Oh, please. No one can look at that much sports. I’m rereading her books to study the plot … and because she hasn’t written the next one.”
“Sex is a sport,” he makes one more try. “You never complain when we watch porn together. We could go watch some now. Maybe she’s blocked.”
She slowly places her bookmark in between the pages and shuts the book knowing she’s not going to get any work done. “I guess you downloaded some new skin flick.”
“Yeah. Wanna come see?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
Him, in case you’re lost. “How do you know how much porn I watch? Have you been in the history on my computer?”
“Of course not. I don’t have to.” She’s wondering about their history and how much longer it would last. “You leave the sound up loud enough for me to hear the hokey music and moans and groans. Listening to someone else have sex is disgusting.”
“Well certainly no one has heard those noises coming from here lately.”
“That’s not true. We had sex just …” She couldn’t remember the last ‘just’.
“Right, can’t remember can you?”
“Stay out of my head.”
“No body is getting any head.”
“That’s ‘nobody’.”
“That’s what I said. No bodies touching or even sitting in the same room.”
“What do you mean she’s blocked?”
“What?” Now he’s the one lost.
“Back up there on the page, you said maybe she’s blocked. Do you mean she has writer’s block?”
“No. She’s writing this, isn’t she?”
“Who knows what the hell is going on.”
“I think she has a sex block.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean she broke it off with the latest and there’s no other on the horizon. She aint’ gettin’ any so neither are we.”
“You are mean.”
“What?”
“You said ‘I mean’.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Stop saying ‘mean’. That’s the dumbest, sexist, only-a-man-would-think-like-that thing you’ve ever said.” Her voice has risen up several octaves.
“Is not.” He’s wondering which statement she’s talking about.
“Is too and I can prove it.”
“So prove it.”
“If she doesn’t have a man in her life, she’d be horny and writing it out would ease the stress.”
He’s stressed by now and not the good kind. “That’s just stupid.”
“Did you just call me stupid?”
“No but if the g-string fits … you women think words can solve everything.”
“And you men think watching porn will relieve you of responsibility.”
“Stay off my computer. Certainly gives me relief which I ain’t gettin’ here.”
“Now you’re just repeating yourself. I get you’re point. You’re not getting any …” Her face takes on that blank getting a flash look.
“What?”
“I figured it out.”
“What?”
“Why she’s blocked?”
“Why?”
“If all we do is fight and we’re characters she’s writing and we’re not having sex then her characters aren’t having sex but fighting all the time then she can’t write sex … erotica.”
“That’s the dumbest … wait.”
“What now?”
“How ‘bout makeup sex.”
“That’s ‘make up’. ‘Makeup’ is what women put on their face.”
“Well, let’s face it. It’s all you women’s fault.”
“Oh I can’t wait to hear the explanation for that.”
“You all are the ones with the power, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe and just because you’re southern doesn’t mean you should say ‘you all’. What power?”
“The power to say yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes?”
“Well … maybe.”
