No infringement intended by this “DVD commentary”. “The West Wing” and its characters are owned by Aaron Sorkin, NBC, et al. No offence is intended by some of the comments within. Honest. Sorry about the spacing, too. No clue what went on there. This is for Brendan, because he's our hero!!!
****
Cath, do you even know about the West Wing characters, or is your only way in through my fics? Because that would be very damaging, I would think.
Welp, I watched most of the first and second season, but I’m woefully ig’nint, I’m afraid. Most of what I’ve read has been through you, Vickster. I didn’t realize the White House staff was so dirty.
Thanks. ::rolls her eyes:: I should probably admit at the very beginning of this that the entire plot for this came to me in a dream. No kidding. Start to finish, including CJ and the green lingerie. And then I went and wrote most of the thing while I was high on percaset.
You’re always high on something.
But more on that later…
-yeah, small group, nobody friggin special,
—but somehow, between the dress fittings, the press coverage of the ruby engagement ring, and the segments on E!, Crossfire, Larry King and Entertainment Tonight, it had turned into a bit of a thing.
Four friends pounded
– and already “Vicky” here is turning pornographic-
the pavement along Fifth Avenue, trying to find things for the ladies to wear to the wedding: two of them were extremely excited
HA!
about the little venture; the other two—the boys—were rather less-than eager.
“Exactly how did Charlie and I become necessary for this little escapade?” Josh whined.
“Because, Fly Boy, you lost a heavy hand of poker night before last and, since you were a scoundrel and came to the table without enough money to cover your ass, Donna and I had to think of a fit way to punish you. This was the best we could come up with on short notice.” CJ turned and gave Josh a steely glare. “Stand up straight and take it like a man.”
“But it’s dress shopping!”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said slowly, “I think it’s kinda cool. Just pretend you’re Armani surrounded by beautiful models every time we enter a store.”
The two men gave each other cheeky smiles before Donna stepped in and smacked Josh upside the head. “Behave yourself!” she snapped in a low whisper. “We were just in Chanel!”
Josh rubbed his head, scowling. “Why am I always the one who gets hit? Charlie was the one talking about the sexy models.”
“You’re easier to abuse,” she said, smiling wickedly.
I often write Donna to agree on the abuse of Josh. I love being a writer! It’s the closest I’ll ever come to playing God. ;)
“Now come and help us find something to wear to this wedding!”
Suddenly CJ grabbed Donna’s arm and stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. “Stop everything! We have arrived! Donna, look! Just look—we have reached the Promised Land.” Everyone looked through the windows of the store next to them; Donna began to squeak wildly.
“Oh my god!” she yelped. “It’s Vera Wang!”
“Wang.” HAH!
“Come on, boys,” CJ cried happily, “I think we don’t need to go any farther.”
“Oh, thank god,” Josh muttered, before being yanked through the main doors of the store.
A sales assistant immediately came up to them. “Can I help you find anything?” she asked sweetly.
CJ smiled back and took charge. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s necessary. We brought our good luck charms with us,” she said, grabbing Charlie by the arm and pulling him next to her, “so I think we shouldn’t have any trouble finding something.”
“All right, then,” said the assistant. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”
HAH!
store only a few blocks from where I used to live during my undergrad years. Any and every time any of us went to the Duke of York for a drink, we girls would end up gazing at the dresses until the guys started yelling about it being freezing cold in January. They just didn’t understand! ::sigh:: Cathy, you must remember this, right?
For a few minutes, all four milled about the store slowly, looking at different dress styles and colours.
Charlie moved up to a rack of black cocktail dresses. “Does anyone know why Jordan and Leo decided to get married in New York? Why not back home? Or Boston? Leo’s from Boston—it makes more sense.”
Is Leo from Boston? Or Chicago? I always get confused. I see him as more of a Boston type of character. Except for that pesky New York accent that slips in every once in a while…
Good point. Here’s another question – Where’s the SEX!!!!
Pastel? Shouln’t CJ be wearing a leather pantsuit or something? Do they make those?...
“Yeah,” Josh snarked, “less marble.”
Donna shook her head. “You’re a dork.”
“Maybe—but I’m right.”
“I like it,” Donna said softly. “I think it’s a really great idea—combining the wedding and our New Year celebrations. It means I only have to buy one fabulous dress instead of two. My credit card will be very happy.”
“Sure,” CJ nodded, “except you have to make sure that your one dress is the most amazing thing ever created. This wedding is being covered by every media outlet—because the President is going to be there—and every fashion review—because it’s an haute couture event on New Year’s Eve—and every entertainment magazine because, you know, I’m going to be there.”
Josh looked over from where he’d been playing with a mannequin’s outstretched hand. “Hey, you’re not the one with a fan club like mine.”
“And that’s something I regret everyday of my life,” she deadpanned. “Joshua Lyman, stop playing with the fake women and come and help us real ones find nice dresses—you know, something that will make the male demographic at this wedding sit up and take notice.”
“You know what would really get our attention? If you didn’t wear anything. Nudity is always the best policy.”
“Wait, Donna,” said Charlie, getting between her and the back of Josh’s head, “let me hold him down for you this time.”
“Hey! Stop picking on me!”
CJ laughed. “And that’s exactly the kind of thing to say when you want to get us to leave you alone. Geez, you need help.”
I love writing CJ. I don’t do it often, but it’s always fun when she appears for a fic. Plus, she’s tall, which is always great.
I don’t remember CJ ever laughing in the show. She was always kind of…dour.
Grabbing his arm, she hauled him off to look at dresses a few yards away. Looking back, she caught Donna’s eye. “Don’t forget, Donna, we’ll also need shoes.”
“Right. Shoes.”
Donna began to drift away from the other three—dress shopping for her was always like finding a parking spot: you had to hope you had karma on the given day and then everything would just fall into place. Taking a quick look to make sure the other three were occupied—CJ was trying to teach Josh about what colours made her look good and Charlie was chatting up one of the attractive store attendants—Donna made a bee-line for the wedding dress section of the store. It was a dirty habit, but one that she could not help but indulging—especially in Vera Wang.
Hee hee
Really, who was kidding who here?
I have no idea what V. is talking about here. Hmmm.
That’s because you’ve never really watched the show. You really should borrow the Third Season DVDs from me. It’s got everything: fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, true love, miracles…
After several minutes, she thought she might have snow-blindness. Backing away slowly from the yards and yards of billowing lace, shimmering satin and veils flecked with bits of mother-of-pearl, she tried in vain to find something among the racks of dresses that would make ‘the male demographic’ sit up and take notice of her at Leo’s wedding.
But it had to be something perfect—that way, she just might be able to turn the head of a certain Deputy Chief of Staff for whom she’d been holding a torch for a few years…like maybe six or so.
It’s like Dawson’s Creek, but for government officials! Oh god, I’m among the most powerful, intelligent, and respected people in the country, but does Dr. Whatsis LIKE me in my new stockings?
So far, nothing had caught her eye. Black was so overdone, and pale pinks just weren’t sexy enough—and if anyone thought she was a bridesmaid at this wedding because of what she had chosen to wear, it was game over. She had worn fuchsia before, and Josh hadn’t really noticed a thing—then again, he’d been dating Amy then, but if a plunging neckline couldn’t grab his attention, then nothing would, except maybe a bill three votes down on the Hill.
Jackie Onassis did good work in pastel pinks, but it’s a hard colour, I’ll admit.
Blue was a no…she didn’t feel like wearing blue this time. Sage green made her feel washed out, and she wasn’t quite sure what emerald green might do to her looks. It was a no-win situation.
And this one was tooo HOT! And this one was toooooooooo cold! And this one made her ass look fat.
“Not that any kind of a dress would help me anyways,” she grumbled. “I’m too scared, and then he’s too scared, and then we’re both acting like lunatics…” Her hands flipped through the racks so quickly, there was no way she could be looking at a single gown.
Been there, done that. Shopping while frustrated is an agonising experience.
So is hearing about shopping… ^_^
WHERE”S THE SEX??
“Can I help you, Miss?”
Donna’s head snapped up; a young assistant stood next to her, trying not to smile. She got ready to tell the girl to go away, and then thought better of it. Shrugging her shoulders, she held up her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “I was going to say no, but maybe I do need some help.”
“Special occasion?”
“Definitely,” Donna nodded. “My boss—who’s also a dear friend—is getting married Friday night. And I have absolutely nothing in my closet that will do for a New York wedding.”
The girl broke into a sassy grin and took Donna by the arm. “Well, extravagance is my second favourite word, after ‘sale’ of course! My name is Diane.”
“I’m Donna.”
“Well, come on then, Donna—I know we’ve got something here that will make it a night to remember.”
“And probably make my credit card even more memorable!”
“Well,” Diane said coyly, “what’s the price for a night of pleasure?”
Donna paused and then began to giggle. “Good point.”
****
Josh looked about the store and tried not to sulk. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being with the ladies and Charlie—he loved it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being in New York City—it wasn’t DC, but it certainly had its perks, like staying in a suite at the Waldorf Astoria. Hell, that place even had its own embossed shoe horns! And he had no problem whatsoever getting excited for Leo and Jordan—those two had been through a lot the past three years and it was great they had found each other.
But dress shopping?
This is Josh living out the other side of me and my shopping experiences. If it’s not going well, I want to get out of there as soon as possible because I’m utterly clueless when it comes to a lot of fashion things. I know my Vera Wang
(HA! That never gets old…)
and wedding stuff from helping out a lot of friends who’ve been engaged, but please don’t think I know about the Paris runway or Fashion Week in New York. They’re far beyond me. So, when I got a lot of feedback for this fic about the fashion, I felt torn: do I admit that I know nothing, or play with the few names that I *do* recognise? Hmmm…
Dude, so wait, Leo and Jordan are both men, right? That’s pretty cool; this is a liberal Whitehouse, after all…It looks like Canada is about to turn into the third country with legalized same sex marriage, which I think is rockin. Hm. Or maybe Jordan is a girl. I had a friend called Jordie once. She actually was kind of a bitch. Anyway back to the story!!
Jordan is a girl, but I don’t think you’re going to figure that out for a while. And yes, we are now officially the third country to legalise same-sex marriage. I’ve never known anyone called Jordan. But I know a guy called Leslie, so there you go.
Oh right, punishment. Kind of forget that there for a second.
His approach to the glamorous in life was simple: open the closet door, find the monkey suit hanging somewhere in the back, get Donna to send it to the cleaner’s, get her to give him that stylish Tony Bennett look with the loosened bow-tie and then get the damned tuxedo off as soon as he could. Statesmen might find a white-tie dinner at the White House to be the epitome of sophistication, but he would much rather face a legion of angry Republicans
(Fuckin’ republicans)
at unending congressional meetings—at least in that scenario he knew that he had the upper-hand. He never knew what to make of himself in a tuxedo whenever he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
And now dress shopping? He winced, ran a hand over his tired face, and sighed—it was going to be a very long day.
For you and me both, buddy. Friggin women and their shopping, goddammit.
Shut up.
It was perfect.
“CJ!” he bellowed, running over to her. “CJ! The search is over!” Dragging her away from a rack of red satin sleeveless gowns, he made a bee-line for the back of the store, pointing and waving while he went. “Go put that on!” he crowed, sensing that victory was near.
CJ looked up at the headless mannequin, sizing up the dress before her. “You think?”
“Trust me, I’m a guy—I know.”
“I’m to trust you while shopping? Can I quote you on that?”
Sputtering, he gestured towards the change-room: “Just…just go and…you know, put it on, or zip it up, or whatever you do. Go do it.”
And Flustered!Josh makes his first of many appearances in this story!
CJ smiled, winked at the exuberant Josh before her, and then got one of the assistants to bring her the dress in a size appropriate for a woman who was 6’2” in heels.
CJ’s a saucy wench in this story.
Donna looked at what Diane was holding up before her and shook her head. “Nope. No black.”
“Are you sure? It’s always chic—especially for New Year’s Eve.”
“I promised myself I would wear colour to this wedding…I just didn’t know at the time that it would be such a problem!”
Diane smiled, dismissing Donna’s pessimism with a shake of her head. “No, trust me. I have this weird feeling that your dress is here in the store. I’m good like that—if special people come into the store I can usually suss out what they need in under ten minutes.”
She better. The Wang joke is all that’s holding me steady up in here.
“You get that too? I hate strep.”
“So do I.”
So do I! I get it every year like clockwork. If not more than once! Sooooo aggravating! Are they gonna kiss or something? I don’t get strep throat, and I’m offended by those who do.
Diane began to flip through more of the racks. “A Sister in Strep. Oh, we are going to find such a dress for you!”
Jesus Christ.
Leave me alone.
Giggling, Donna peered at the rows of sleek satin gowns and silently crossed her fingers behind her back for luck before reaching for frock beside her.
What is a frock exactly? Are there special measurements? Just asking.
Donna dropped the yellow chiffon dress she’d been looking at and immediately flushed a humiliated shade of pink. “What?”
Bending to help her, Diane tried to catch her eye. “You mentioned a Josh before. I just wondered if he was someone special.”
“Of course he is.”
“So he’s your date for this wedding? Fantastic.”
“Oh no,” Donna countered, “he’s not my date. How funny, thinking he would be my date! He would not be my date. Why would that ever be? Oh no, no, no. Josh isn’t my date. Because, really, why would he ever want to take me to a wedding? Donna and Wedding? Those two words just don’t go together in his mind. Never, never, never. So no, he’s not my date. Would never be my date. Even if I maybe kinda sorta wanted him for a date, I still wouldn’t bet the farm on it, because, really when does that ever turn out for the best? Ever? No, didn’t think so.”
On the scale of a Sorkin-Ramble, I give it about a 3.5/10. I should have thrown in some hand gestures.
Yeah, I remember this about Donna. She was always blathering about something. Hah!
Diane grabbed her shoulders and began to shake her. “Donna! Snap out of it!” Stepping back, she tried to apologise. “I’m so sorry…I’ve never shaken a customer like that before. But—you were really, well, losing it.”
She should be shot for roughing up a member of the inner White House.
“That’s promising.”
“He’s also my boss.”
“That sucks.”
Six years of shipperdom summed up in four lines. Cut to the chase, people! That’s the key!
Looking out towards the rest of the store, Donna tried to spot him. “That’s him,” she pointed, “over there with my friend CJ. She’s the tall one.”
Diane moved around to get a better look. “He’s the one with the crazy hair?”
Donna laughed. “It only gets wild when he’s agitated—which is most of the time.”
“So…I have to ask…are you wanting more from this guy than the boss-friend thing? I mean, he’s pretty cute.” Diane hesitated for only the briefest of minutes before answering herself. “Wait, I don’t want you to lose it again. I’ll just assume yes. Am I right?”
Donna nodded. Her eyes were bright, which said more about her feelings than a thousand words ever could.
A sly look came into Diane’s face that matched Donna’s lustre. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“I shouldn’t do this…we were saving this dress for a Hollywood premiere, but really—you need this dress. This is the dress that is going to get you that man.”
For some unknown reason, whenever I read that line I start hearing “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair” in my head. Don’t ask. ;)
This is shaping up like Cinderella! I wonder who the dress was for…Hope not Jennifer Lopez, she’s a right bitch.
Yeah, I’m not a fan either. ::trying to think of a good actress:: Um…Anna Paquin is cool.
“Please, honey. This is New York. Go big or go home.”
“Go Big or Go Home” was the catchphrase of my favourite Canadian athlete, the late Victor Davis. I now have it written across the flag on my wall.
Grabbing Donna’s hand, the sales assistant brought her through to the back of the store, into one of the private fitting rooms.
As she looked in the mirror, Donna could hardly believe her eyes. The fabric was so rich and velvety it clung to her body like a glove. In the light of the dressing room, it shimmered mutely, drawing in your eye and making you want to reach out and touch it. When she smoothed her hand down her hip, the material tickled her palm; when she swept back up towards her breasts, she thought she had never before felt anything so soft or inviting.
Right, so I don’t know *that* much about high-fashion, but I do know how it feels when something is just right for you. I have a formal dress that feels like that. It’s amazing. In fact, I have a few formal dresses that make me feel that way.
And the colour…it was so unlike what she usually wore, and yet it brought out the blond in her hair and made her alabaster skin shine like marble. Her blue eyes looked velvet. The cut of the dress fell away from her hips after sculpting her breasts and tapering down to her waist. When she stood on tiptoe, the effect was even more dramatic.
She had never worn anything like this. She felt like a queen, like a goddess; she had never felt more human or sexy or like a woman of grace and stature and style.
That’s a paraphrase shamelessly stolen from the end of “The Philadelphia Story” when Katharine Hepburn is about to marry Cary Grant for the second time. Whenever one of my friends looks perfect in her wedding dress, formal dress, etc., I quote that line to them and then make them cry. Yes, I admit it, I’m the friend who makes you cry, but only for very good reasons, I promise!
Donna needs to be more self-confident! Self confidence is the only dress a woman needs. Seriously, she needs to get naked. Now. And do it with Josh. And then the sales lady.
It was positively amazing what a few little scraps of cloth could do to one’s self-esteem.
Yeah Yeah.
“Diane?” she called out. “Job well done! I’ll take it.”
****
“You really think so, Josh?”
“Sure. Trust me.”
CJ twirled about in front of the mirror again, letting the midnight blue gown swoosh around her legs. Striking a pose, she pursed her lips and tried to look smoky and alluring.
Slutty Ho.
“No, Josh. You’re just not enough. Get me Charlie.”
Shaking his head, Josh blindly turned around. “Charlie! Her Majesty needs you in here now!”
“Josh, chill. I’m right next to you.”
“Ooops, sorry man.”
Charlie strolled into the fitting room and let out a low whistle. “Damn, chiniqua! You look hot!”
“Now you see, Josh? That’s the way to talk to a woman in an expensive dress.”
He shrugged. “Meh. Live and learn.” Looking at CJ again, Josh couldn’t help smiling. “Really, Claudia Jean. You are beautiful. So beautiful, that you simply have to go to Leo’s wedding as my date.”
::slaps forehead:: Josh! What are you doing??
And THAT’S how you know he’s not gonna get laid for a good long time.
Nice.
CJ looked over at him, startled. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. You look wonderful and I’m going to be your escort.”
Thinking for a moment, she gave in with a shrug of her shoulders. “You’re on. But don’t forget, Josh—I’m determined to dance at this wedding. That means you can’t slink off to the bar and lose yourself in your requisite two beers for the entire evening.”
“Point taken. Now can we get out of here? There’s no point looking at any other dresses—that’s the one.”
She broke out into a smile, at last. “Great!”
****
“Donna? You look—wow. I don’t even have the words.”
“Thanks,” she muttered. Her eyes seemed haunted.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Donna…”
“Really, Charlie, it’s nothing to worry about.”
“You are going to take that dress, right? It’s…yeah, you’ve gotta buy that dress.”
She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “It’s all right. But there’s no point anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I…I was coming to show you guys and…and then he asked her…and I…well, I have the crappiest timing in the world, that’s all.”
For a moment Charlie looked confused, and then the light bulb went off over his head. “Oh, damn. You came in right then?”
Wow, I was desperately grasping for a plotline here, wasn’t I?
This works well, I think. Obviously Donna and CJ are going to have a raging catfight in about three shakes. About time!!
Biting her lip, she did her best not to unspool; instead, she sniffed deeply and smiled through watery eyes while nodding.
“Donna, trust me. He sees you in that, everything changes. Come on.” He took her by the arm intent on dragging her back into the fitting room area.
“No!”
“What?”
“No way. No, Charlie. Not a chance in the world.”
“Why ever not? You’re being silly.”
She dug in her heels and refused to budge an inch, crossing her arms below her breasts. “I’m not going to go in there and have him sputter like an idiot and then try to trip all over himself because he’s already taking CJ to the wedding. It’s his loss.”
“But you’re still going to buy the dress?”
“Of course I’m going to buy the dress,” she said, rolling her eyes and completely refuting what she had said only moments before. “But now—I’m going to wear it for me, not for him.”
Good for her, but I still wanna see somebody get LAID!! Or bitch-slapped.
“You two seriously need to get together and talk one of these days. You know that, right?”
I’ve been dying for *someone* on the show to say that for years. And then what I got was CJ’s thing in “No Exit”…not satisfying.
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“I didn’t think you would,” he sighed. “Look, Donna. You look too fabulous to walk into that wedding reception without an equally fabulous man beside you. Can I take you?”
Smacking Charlie on the arm, Donna had to bite her lip again to stop from crying. “Thanks, Charlie. That’d be great.”
“My pleasure. Seriously.”
“You’re sweet. I’ll just go take this off. No point in having anyone else see it before the big day!” With that, Donna hurried away before either Josh or CJ came back into the room.
Man, oh man, Josh, Charlie thought. You have no idea what you’re missing. But maybe on Friday you will…
****
Has she never been to New York before? Sweet little thing…
“Hello?”
“Donna? Donna, this is Diane from Vera Wang.”
(Tee Hee!)
You’re getting worse than the ‘how about them apples’…
She blinked, slightly startled at the voice being any other than Josh’s. “Right! Hi, how are you?”
“Completely freaking out. You didn’t happen to leave the dress anywhere special in the back of the store, did you?”
I keep wanting to bring Diane back in a future fic, but I haven’t been able to fit her into anything yet. She’s one of the rare instances were I’ve added a “Vicky Original” character. Maybe someday…
A tiny crinkle appeared in the middle of Donna’s forehead. “No,” she said slowly. “I put it right back in that dressing room where I first put it on. Why?”
“Shit. That really is bad.”
“Diane…what are you telling me?”
“The dress is gone.”
Donna felt as though there was nothing supporting her legs anymore. “What? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I went to take it to the seamstress—remember how you wanted the hemline slightly raised so it wouldn’t get wet from all the slush on the streets? Well, when I went to grab it from the back, it was gone. We have no record of anyone taking it from the store, so I thought maybe you hid it somewhere so it wouldn’t get flown out to LA by mistake.”
“Diane, what are you saying?”
Three guesses, Donna
There was a lengthy pause. “The dress is gone, Donna. I’m sorry.” Diane might have kept talking, but Donna wasn’t listening anymore. Any plans she might have made for Friday night melted away a forgotten dream.
Dude, this is fucked up. Diane should be fired so fast! Can you imagine if she pulled that shit on someone important?? Stupid ho. Donna should kick her ass. Then they should probably make out a little.
You’re incorrigible.
****
Diane looked at the yellow chiffon dress Donna kept coming back to and shook her head again. “No way. Not with your colouring. It would wash you out in a second. And do you really want to wear yellow to a winter wedding?”
I never understand how *anyone* can wear yellow for any occasion. Or orange.
Donna pouted and put the dress back with a small yet perfectly audible huff. “Diane, this isn’t working. There’s nothing here.”
“Donna, I like you, but this is Vera Wang.
^_^
There is always something here.”
“Well not for me! Not today!” she wailed, moving away from the racks. Grabbing a seat on a pink settee, Donna put her head in her hands and sighed. She and Diane had been going through every possible dress in the entire store, but nothing compared to the lost burgundy dress. Really, it hadn’t even been burgundy…it just had been this fantastic dark colour that looked reddish-blue in some lights, russet in others, and perfect no matter where she had stood. And now it was gone.
You know, the only time I think I’ve ever worn burgundy was for one of my basketball uniforms when I was about 8 or 9 years old. It’s been a while…
I drank burgundy once. I woke up in my college chapel. I…think I had a conversation with God, but I forget what he said.
That’s because you went to Trin. Ooooo!
“I’m just not going to go to the wedding.”
Oh, suck it up, princess.
Diane looked over at her as if Donna had grown another head. “Will you listen to yourself? There is no way you’re skipping out on this wedding. Don’t your boss’s feelings mean anything to you?”
She gulped in answer, thinking of Josh. “Oh, you mean Leo, right?”
“I mean whoever the guy is who’s getting hitched.”
“Leo. Definitely Leo.”
Diane came and sat down beside her. “Isn’t Leo worth trying to find something nice?”
Donna squirmed under the other woman’s stare, feeling absurdly embarrassed. “Of course he is. Leo is a wonderful man. He wouldn’t care if I came to the wedding in a sackcloth with ashes on my head, so long as I danced with him at least once at the reception.”
“Well, I might not be able to find that other gown, but you’re sure as hell not going in a sackcloth! Not if I can help it!”
Donna put her hand on her arm. “Thanks, Diane. I’m sure we’ll find something that will do. I just…”
She’s being too nice to Diane. Diane is a ho, said it once, said it like three times.
“Yeah. I totally get it. When I was in my senior year, some jerk spilled a bottle of red wine all over my blue Cinderella dress. I went to my prom looking like either a murder victim, a haemorrhaging patient from the hospital, or a drunk. In any light, it was bad. And who knows, we might find your dress. Maybe. Hopefully.” She grew silent, watching Donna’s ashen face. “Okay, so maybe it was sent out to California to some overly-thin screen goddess. But screw ‘em: this is New York, honey. We’ll find something even better.”
A lot of people loved the “This is New York, honey” line. I “borrowed” it from the title of one of Michelle Landsberg’s memoirs. But I only steal lines when they’re fantastic. This one definitely qualified.
And New York does rock ass, so the line is factually correct, as well!
The day of the wedding dawned bright and cold. A new layer of snow had turned New York into a winter playground.
Just like to shout out right now that none of you Americans know *anything* about snow (unless, maybe, you live in Alaska). It stops being a winter playground outside as soon as you’re old enough to be handed a shovel, pointed towards the driveway, and faced with a bank that’s at least twelve feet high.
Friggin’ pansies. Try coming to TORONTO one time, you bastards!
Don’t go to Toronto. They call in the army for snow removal duty at the drop of a hat. Weaklings.
Donna awoke in her large suite, alone, and stared up at the ceiling. It had been a restless night. She felt wired, full of pent-up twisting energy. Curling her toes beneath the smooth sheets of the queen-size bed, she stretched her limbs and tried to get ready for the day.
It was hard to remember quite what had been in her dreams. Something about Josh and a changing room and silky, velvety material brushing across her breasts and along the tender skin of her inner thighs. Looking over at the clock on the bedside table, she noticed it was not quite 7AM.
She bit her lip, smiling to herself. She still had a few minutes to herself before she needed to get out of bed. Why not relax and finish the dream properly?
And here comes the requisite Vicky sex-scene that I try to cram into nearly every single one of my fics. I’m very proud of the declaration on my website that practically everything I’ve written verges on “Mature” or what we used to call NC-17! J
WHA HOOOOOOOOO! BOUT FRIGGIN TIME! YYYYAAAAAAAAAY! Okay people, here’s where it gets good.
If she felt this restless so early in the day, she really should do something to make herself feel more like herself. Lifting her oversized t-shirt over her head, she nestled down among the down-filled pillows and let her hand snake down across her bare belly until her fingertips grazed the wiry thatch at the top of her sex.
Lying back, she thought of Josh.
Big surprise!
Whenever she thought about him in the early morning or late at night, she wanted to touch herself.
“When I think ABOUT you I touch my-self!”
You were singing just then, right? Ah, The Divinyls!
During what she referred to as ‘The Amy Period’ she had stopped thinking about him this way; it was too hard to imagine him loving her when she was alone, and then having to listen to his voice when he called from Amy’s bed on good mornings. The decision had been made when she had helped to decorate his apartment way back when the Amy-thing was only just beginning. After putting up way too many fake tiki torches, she had sadly come to the conclusion that fantasising about Josh was no longer an option.
Watching “The Two Bartlets” was such a painful experience for me as a shipper. My roommate in third year can testify to that. She had to put up with me sulking around the apartment for a good half hour after it ended. Plus, “Red Red Wine” was my theme song in high school – as in the guys in OAC (Grade 13 in Ontario) fixed it so that it was played whenever I entered the room for a dance or party – and Aaron Sorkin went and tarnished it! ::sad sigh::
That Amy girl was also a bitch. She annoyed me to no end. ....My theme song was that Ren and Stimpy tune. That was a rockin show, but nobody ever played it at parties, cuz they were lame.
But that phase had long since passed. Ever since that awkward time when she was dating Jack Reese and Josh kept trying to sabotage her dates—because she knew quite well that that was exactly what he had been doing—she had occasionally succumbed to lusting after Josh Lyman’s fine physique. Sure, there had been a few questionable hair cuts in there, but when it came to daydreaming there were other, far more interesting bits to focus on, like his eyes, his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and the best ass in D.C.
My mother – a *huge* WW fan in her own right, who has no idea that I write fanfic – always goes on about Martin Sheen’s butt. Obviously, I prefer Josh’s.
It really was a shame about that dress—Josh would have been all over her if he had seen her in that thing. She thought about how his hands would have felt up from the curve of her waist all the way to the beginning swell of her breasts; that was the great thing about a ‘feel me up’ dress, it always focused a guy’s attention on her breasts. She knew she didn’t have an overabundance of cleavage, but there had been enough compliments from gomers past and present to make her feel good about her body.
Too much time thinking about gomers…much better to think about Josh: the Ultimate Gomer.
He so is, too!
Nobody tell Vicky that I don’t know what a Gomer is. Shhh!
She thought about how it would look to gaze down the length of her body and see Josh’s head smiling back at her from the joining of her thighs. Then he would lean in and lose himself in the taste of her up to his dimples. Imagining the feel of his tongue lightly tracing the contours of her folds made Donna lightly trace them with the tip of one finger. She pictured him lapping at her gently, making her wet, and then quickly losing all control once he had discovered just how sensitive her clit was. Somehow she didn’t think Josh would be concerned with technique when he was hell-bent on chasing her orgasm, so she let her fingers circle and flick randomly at the nub of her pleasure.
Maybe he would have started first on her breasts, leaving their crowns damp from his mouth. Licking one thumb she quickly wet her nipples, pretending it was the leavings of his wicked kiss. Her legs would be swung up over his shoulders, letting the smoothness of her calves slide across his expansive back.
He always struck me as a small dude on TV…I always like the guy with the beard. That shit is distinguished.
Oh. My. God. You like TOBY??? Have I taught you nothing through all our years of friendship? Guess not. Though I did turn you around on Viggo Mortensen, which makes me proud. “A Walk on the Moon” – damn fine film.
Just as she was getting close, she thought about Josh’s cock—it never failed to get her off in the most pleasurable of ways.
That’s what it’s for, honey!
He would be large, but not overly massive; thick and heavy and magnificently hot to the touch. First he would check that she was ready with a tender finger tracing the insides of her walls and then he would slowly press into her, filling her with every inch of his rigid shaft.
But what always made her lose it was the thought that, the whole time, he would look deeply into her eyes and smile that one smile that had always been meant just for her when they were alone.
He prolly practised it in the mirror, like Zoolander and Blue Steel.
By now her hips were rocking faster and faster against her hand. Flinging back the covers, Donna let her naked body arch backward as the tension filling her finally came to climax; she shuddered deliciously as she slowly sank down from her fantasy. For several minutes afterward she simply lay in bed, not quite smiling, but certainly not frowning either, as the aftershocks from her release occasionally twinged and pulsed through her sex.
Good for her! You burn a lot of calories that way.
Okay, it’s really weird to try and comment on a sex scene that I’ve written. Honestly, I don’t know what to say. Was it good for you? ;)
Baby, shit like this makes all the dress stuff worthwhile!
But by the time her feet hit the carpeted floor, she realised that her chance to be with the real Josh tonight, rather than the one in her fantasies, had vanished along with that burgundy dress.
****
(…!)
by ten o’clock in the morning to pick up their dresses for the wedding.
“What did you end up deciding on?” CJ asked, watching Donna carefully for any freaky response. Charlie had filled CJ in on the dress fiasco and the White House press secretary had now taken it upon herself to make Donna’s day as bright as possible. Plus, it was New Year’s Eve in New York City, which had to spell fun one way or the other.
Someday, I would *love* to spend NYE in NYC. But not until I’m rich enough to do it right!
“A little black number. Short, spaghetti straps, no decoration. Nothing too out of the ordinary.” Donna’s voice was fairly flat as she talked about her attire for the ceremony that night.
“It sounds lovely.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t see the other one.”
“Hey, at least you didn’t have Josh pick out your dress. I’m still half afraid that a camera is about to appear out of nowhere saying that I just made Entertainment Tonight’s Worst-Dressed List.”
Donna shook her head. “Don’t worry, that would never happen to you. You’re a fashion goddess.”
“Aw, shucks.”
TAKE THE COMPLIMENT, HO!!!
Walking up to the main counter, Donna smiled at the sales assistant. “Hi, Diane! We’re here to pick up our dresses.”
“Hiya, Donna. So that’s your black cocktail and Ms Cregg’s midnight blue gown? They should be ready in the back.”
Provided I didn’t lose THEM, too.
Donna playfully rolled her eyes and put a hand up against her brow. “Oh, no. Not ‘the back’. Isn’t that where the wheels fell off for me the first time we came in here?”
“Touché. Don’t worry—I put them out before opening this morning myself. If anything has happened to those dresses, I’ll lock down the store until we find the thief.”
“Sounds good to me!”
Donna hadn’t noticed that CJ had wandered off. There was something about sexy bridal lingerie that always made CJ itch to be a bride—if only for the one day. Who was kidding who here?
Okay, so this next section was straight out of my dream. I dream like that sometimes – full plot lines, dialogue, settings. Then again, sometimes I dream in Gaelic, so I’m not suggesting that any of this is by any means normal.
One time I had a cold, and it sounded like Gaelic…
CJ looked at the various merry-widows and negligees, noting with some irony that there were none that would fit a woman over 5’8”. Typical. Out of the corner of one eye, a jaunty little emerald green number caught her attention. It was a pair of silky-satiny baby doll pyjamas, with the scantest bit of lace along the edge of the bodice. She picked it up, just to feel the material across the pads of her fingers, but it didn’t lift easily.
“What the hell?” she muttered, tugging a bit at the display table. A bit of material seemed to be caught by something underneath the pile of baby dolls. CJ reached beneath the sea of emerald green silk and came away with…burgundy velvet? That couldn’t be right.
“Hey, Donna! What do you think of this?” She held up the emerald teddy in one hand and the dress in the other. It took only a few seconds for Donna to look over and start to emit a screeching sound that could have given a fire alarm a run for its money.
“Ohmigod, CJ!! You found it!”
Plausibility? Is that you knocking at my door? Go away, I’m busy.
I’ll let this slide because I’m more interested in what happens OUT of the dress than in it.
Your subtlety astounds me.
Diane came running over from behind the counter and, with Donna hold half of the dress and grabbing the other from CJ’s hand, the two girls began to bounce up and down as if they had found the secret fountain of youth. Not that any of them needed it, CJ added on a hasty mental note.
Christmas is saved!! CHRISTMAS IS SAVED!! YAAAAAAAAY! Jesus, these women…
“This is it? This is the dress?”
“YES!” both Donna and Diane shrieked. They stopped jumping for a moment and CJ finally got a good look at the newly-found treasure.
“Wow, Donna. Go put that sucker on right now. I’ve got to see it on you!”
Literally skipping with delight, Donna made a bee-line for the change room, with Diane and CJ hot on her heels. She hadn’t felt this happy in ages—and man, was she ever going to make an entrance at Leo’s wedding that night!
Behind the change room door, she slipped into the dress and, before zipping it up in the back, closed her eyes and stopped for just a second, knowing that she felt on some new plateau, some different place where anything was possible.
“Are you ready?” she called out. “Because here I come!”
Wouldn’t it be funny if Josh hated the dress? I’d smack him.
Shocking factoid: I won an award for this next scene. Yeah, I don’t get it either, but I was very touched by the validation. I guess my Flustered!Josh impressed the people over at the GCCAs, but I honestly never thought he’d ever do so well. But I’m sincerely humbled by the acknowledgement.
****
He had needed to check with CJ about the staff’s gift to Leo and had found out from Charlie that the girls had headed over to Vera Wang
(…)
to pick up their frocks. Since he was wanting a breath of fresh air anyway—his dreams had been extremely pleasant, but more than a little disturbing since they featured Donna as his partner in sin—he figured the walk over to Fifth Avenue would do him good.
Now, watching Donna emerge from her chrysalis, he knew it was the best decision he had ever made.
She looked…unbelievably amazing. The dress fit her like a glove and fell all the way to the floor. It curved along the swell of her breasts and rode against the flat plane of her stomach as though it had been made for her and her alone. Her arms were bare and so was most of her back. She had such a great back—long, white, pristine, as if she had once been a muse during the Italian Renaissance.
He wanted to fall down on his knees and worship her beauty.
Instead, he just stood there with his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide and, most likely, bulging out of his head like some bad Bugs Bunny cartoon.
And, yes, I was picturing him with the tongue and the bulging eyes…the whole bit. Though, on the subject of cartoons, I always wanted Wile E. Coyote to eat both Bugs *and* the Road Runner. I cheer for the underdog…or undercoyote, as the case may be.
I think a nice back is highly underrated. I’m glad that was the focus here, and not her tits.
If he was still breathing, his lungs didn’t know it. Maybe his tongue was lolling out—who cared? He felt as though he had been hit over the head with something, and then realised it had been CJ smacking him upside the head.
Bitch.
“Donna?” he squeaked. Looking back, he thought it was a very macho, masculine sort of squeak.
She didn’t say anything at first.
Then she frowned.
That couldn’t be good.
“Josh,” she whispered coolly, “what are you doing here?”
“Um…well…yeah, I was…hmmm…” In the end he simply shrugged his shoulders and continued to stare at the vision before him. Because does stupidity matter that much when you’re seeing the most beautiful, sexy woman in your entire life?
Really, who was kidding who here?
A catchphrase anvil denoting the importance of the scene! Shocking!
“Josh, stop drooling,” CJ hissed.
“Wha?” He quickly passed a hand over his mouth to wipe up any saliva. “I—wow. That’s just a total…wow.”
Donna blushed slightly; unable to help herself, she twirled slightly in front of him. “You really like it?” She took a step closer, hoping that it would only increase his torture. After all, the guy had been a jerk for way too long not to have to suffer, even for just a few minutes.
Flustered!Josh *and* Abused!Josh all in one package! I am so cruel.
I don’t think he’s complaining ^_^.
When she had sashayed in front of the mirror, the skirt had ridden up just enough to let Josh see her tight, creamy white calves beneath the material. He stood there, gobsmacked once more. CJ tried to help by leaning over and shutting his mouth for him.
“Very smooth there, Casanova.”
“I just hope Charlie likes it,” Donna added.
“Charlie?”
CJ shook her head. “Josh, you’re squeaking again. Didn’t you know that Donna is going to the wedding with Charlie?”
“I had no idea,” he answered honestly.
“Well, I am,” Donna piped up. “He’s already seen me in this once, but I’ll look even better once I have my hair done.”
Suddenly Josh didn’t feel like he could be in the same room with Donna anymore without doing something stupid—like jumping her right now.
Waa-hooo!
“I, uh…” he began. “I’d better get going. I’ve got to…you know…check in on Leo or something.”
Donna, who had moved back in front of the mirror, looked briefly over her shoulder at him and then shrugged in a total non-chalant kind of way. “Go ahead. CJ, can you help me with this zipper? I can never reach it.”
Hint: follow the story of the zipper. It comes back a few more times.
Girls always do this shit. “I masturbated to you this morning, but I’m gonna pretend I don’t like you now.” We’re idiots that way ^_^
Josh’s eyes widened and he tried to catch a glimpse of Donna’s long, bare, alabaster back as he backed out of the fitting room area, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. Once he got outside onto Fifth Avenue, he shook his head as though to clear it.
Just what the hell had happened in there?
****
“So that was Josh.” It wasn’t a question.
Donna nodded: “Yup, that’s my boss.”
“Wow. Not pretty, or even classically rugged but still…he’s hot.”
In other words, BW is not a Hugh Jackman (::sigh::) or a Viggo Mortensen (::double sigh::), but he’s got something going on. Though what it is exactly, I couldn’t tell you.
Donna looked over at CJ and shrugged slightly to hide her embarrassment. “Diane and I talked about a lot of things when we were looking for a new dress,” she muttered.
CJ smiled, but remained silent.
Diane, oblivious to the Press Secretary’s quiet stance, kept right on going. “I think you should totally torture him with that dress tonight.”
“Didn’t I just do that?”
“Not enough, sweetie. Make him writhe. You have never looked better in your life. And it’s high time that this guy gets a clue.”
Donna smiled and then looked at herself in the mirror once more. Skimming her hands over the velvety material, she took on a new aura of confidence. “CJ? What do you think?”
CJ’s face was totally unreadable as she spoke: “I think tonight is going to be a very interesting evening.”
THAT’S the CJ I know.
****
Once he had left the girls at Vera Wang,
(I’m not saying anything…)
he hadn’t noticed exactly where he was going until his feet had stopped outside of the pink-marble building. Or, maybe, he had known all along in what direction he was headed.
My second time in NYC, I actually *did* have breakfast at Tiffany’s. Well, a croissant and coffee outside the building while gazing at the show windows. Except I was sixteen at the time and didn’t look nearly as fabulous as Audrey Hepburn.
When I was sixteen I had braces, glasses and acne. I will not speak of this again.
Either way, he had done what he needed to do, and now here he stood.
Taking a deep breath, he raised a hand to rap on the door and then hesitated. He spun away quickly and nearly walked off, but something made him turn back with just as much speed. Maybe he should just leave the bag on the door handle and she could find it there later as a surprise.
But what if someone stole it? True, they were in the Waldorf Astoria, but you never knew who you could trust these days.
New York is messed up that way.
If you’ve never stayed at the Waldorf, you should. Everyone should stay at least one night in the Waldorf. They have weekend deals. Who cares if your room is the size of a broom closet? It’s the *Waldorf Astoria*!!
Ho-hum. Do they served baked beans for breakfast? Now THAT’S classy!
Before he could lose his nerve yet again, he banged on the door. Maybe she wasn’t there after all, and he would win a small reprieve—and more time to think about how to execute this like a real smooth operator. No damn tiki torches this time, that was for sure.
Tiki torches?
Don’t ask.
The door swung open.
His breath caught in his throat within a moment of laying eyes upon her.
Donna’s hair was wet from a recent shower and brushed back off of her face. All she wore was a cream-coloured towel, knotted at the top of her breasts.
The hardest part of this scene was actually deciding what colour the towel should be. Lame, I know.
Cream works, but it shows more dirt than the darker colours. Just a heads up.
“Josh?”
“Uh…hi. How you doing?”
She answered with a slightly wary look in her eye. “I’m fine.”
There was a lengthy pause where neither of them moved. He couldn’t stop staring at her eyes. They seemed so…so…blue. That made him think of the bag he was carrying.
“Here,” he announced, thrusting it out towards her. “I got this for you.”
Donna’s mouth fell open; her knuckles gripped the edge of the door-frame. “Josh! That’s from Tiffany’s!”
“Really?” He gave her one of his patented goofy grins. “How about that! So, do you want it or should I take it back?”
The bag was snatched away from him before another word was spoken. Donna had a very determined look about her as she tossed the tissue paper onto the floor, almost tearing at the bag to see what might be at its bottom.
“You know, I always took you for a very neat sort of present-unwrapper person.”
“And now?”
“You’re scaring me.”
She stopped talking completely when her hand closed around the tiny box the colour of a robin’s egg, tied with a bright white ribbon. She paused, afraid to open it.
“Go on,” he urged; his voice was low and almost rough when he spoke.
I like that line. “low and almost rough”. That’s how a man ought to sound.
Amen!
“Josh.”
“Donna.”
This time when she smiled, it lit up her entire face. “Why did you do this?”
“Are you gonna open that or not?” He moved as though to take the box away from her and she slapped him away with a resounding smack. He didn’t notice the sting, mainly because her quick action had made the towel around her nakedness slip a good inch, exposing even more of her creamy white flesh than he had ever seen before.
It took a superhuman effort to drag his eyes away from her chest and back to her face.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid to the small box. Now it was her turn to gasp and not know what to say. The necklace dangled from her fingers as she raised it out of its resting place. It was a long drop pendant in platinum, with two rows of graduated diamonds dangling from the bottom. One row was slightly longer than the other, giving it a jazzy, ultimately stylish feel.
So I did my research on the Tiffany website for this. The necklace is called the Tiffany Jazz double drop pendant. It’s diamonds in a platinum setting and is $2,950US. Flustered!Josh probably made another appearance at the cash register, but I thought I’d give him a break and not show that.
Lots of jewelry exposition, but I’ll forgive you cuz Josh and Donna are so cuuute!
“Oh, Josh. What have you done?”
“I thought it would go well with your dress for tonight. See how there’s two little strands of diamonds at the bottom? It’s a very unique design—rather like you, I thought.”
“Rather like us,” she mused quietly.
He looked away sheepishly so she wouldn’t see the hope in his eyes. “I just…I just wanted you to have it.”
Her face swam with tears
(again…girl must be dehydrated by now)
and she bit her lip as she searched for a way to show her appreciation. Holding the necklace gently against her chest, she unconsciously hiked up her towel and then leaned in towards him. Josh lost himself briefly in the soft scent of her hair and the peachy smell of freshly-washed skin. Her lips brushed against his cheek—he half-hoped for a hug to go along with it, but considering that she was wearing nothing else except that towel, he knew it was a long shot.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered. “Really. It’s beautiful.”
“Well…um…” All he wanted to say was that she was just as beautiful too, if not more so, but he wasn’t sure it was right to say that just now. Plus, he didn’t think he could even get the words out because he felt so tongue-tied by her kiss. And, most of all, that was waaay too girly and mushy for any self-respecting macho, masculine man to say in front of a scarcely-clad female without backing it up with a helluva lot more intimate details.
I think from here on in he’s Flustered!Romantic!Josh…
He should jump her. That would prove he’s a macho man, all right.
Still, his chest felt almost painfully tight as he tried to say something coherent. “I…ah…I should get going.”
“Right. Of course.”
“I’ll see you at the thing tonight?”
“Of course,” she answered. “I wouldn’t miss this wedding for anything in the world.”
“Okay. See you then.”
He should have moved by now. Leaving was a simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, but his legs felt like two tonne weights as he stood before her.
Throwing all caution to the wind, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. He let his lips linger against her skin just a shade past what was normally considered ‘friendly’ and then paused again to sniff deeply along the crook of her neck. It was by far one of the most intimate things he had ever done and he knew he had to get out of there fast before he followed it up, because then they would never get to the ceremony.
By the time Donna was able to breathe again, Josh was already rounding the corner down the hall.
****
Vicky is a source of constant inspiration to me.
He had almost made it back to his room when she found him. He would have been scott-free—free to have a shower, close his eyes and relish the tingling scent of Donna’s fresh, soft skin while the water sluiced over him—but fate had cursed Josh Lyman yet again with a hotel door that refused to comply with the damn plastic key card he now held in his hand.
No matter how smoothly or slowly or quickly he shoved it in, the door refused to click open. He had just banged his head against the wood rather painfully in a vain attempt to barge into the suite when he was found out.
“Joshua ‘Josh’ Lyman. Just the man I was coming to see.”
Still keeping his body slumped against the door, he turned slightly. “Hiya, CJ. You wouldn’t happen to know how to open one of these, would you?”
“A door? Can I open a door?”
He held up the key card, thoroughly defeated. “I’ll do anything you ask—just get me back in my room, okay?”
“Anything? This is too good to be true.” Taking the card, she slid it into the slot and pressed down on the handle. Josh sighed in relief as the door swung open and his room slowly appeared before them.
“Thanks, CJ. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Later? Oh, no. We need to talk NOW.”
“Really?” His voice quavered—after all, his heart had been pretty much set on Donna Fantasy Mode for at least the next forty minutes.
“You promised me anything.”
“I did, didn’t I? I really should think things through more sometimes.”
“Spoken like a true prophet of old.”
“Excuse me?”
Totally high on percaset while writing all of this…just a reminder…in fact, I’m fairly certain that’s where the “prophet of old” came from. Apparently I made a lot of loopy analogies while higher than a kite. On the bright side, my family and friends found me very entertaining.
I’m pretty sure CJ’s gonna try to seduce Josh now. Dirty bitch.
CJ glared slightly. “We’re not doing this in the middle of a hotel hallway. Get in the room, pal o’-mine.”
Once inside, Josh tried to lighten the mood. Whatever CJ had to say—and it was probably something about not getting trashed tonight and humiliating her in front of the press covering Leo’s wedding—it could hardly dampen his mood after wowing Donna with his penchant for stellar romance.
“Now, CJ,” he began, his back still turned to her, “let me just start by saying—”
SMACK
“You’re an idiot.”
“What the hell was that for?” he yelped.
SMACK
Tol’ ya. She’s dirty.
“You’re a colossal idiot.” She raised her hand to slap the backside of his head again. “Wanna make me do it again?”
“No. No. Definitely not,” he muttered, rubbing his offended cranium.
“There are times when you seriously need help to get your head out of your ass.”
“I take it you’re saying that I screwed up somehow,” he guessed, still patting at the back of his head.
“Big time, Buster.”
Total shout-out to Disney’s “Robin Hood” when Sir Hiss gets called ‘Buster’ by Little John. Just keep repeating to yourself, “Vicky was stoned, Vicky was stoned…”
Being called ‘Buster’ always made Josh go on the defensive. “And just what have I done today? Because, I’m telling you, CJ, today was not one of my ‘deputy downer’ days. Today has been and still is a fine day, a phenomenal day. The sun is shining, the wedding’s going to go off perfectly, and I have just made myself SO da man.”
“Then why were you acting like such a chumpish troglodyte at the dress shop this morning? I’ve never seen a guy so bowled over by a woman before. Your eyes were seriously bugging out of your head when Donna appeared in that dress.”
He smiled at the tasty memory. “She looked amazing, didn’t she?”
CJ took advantage of his brief pause to lunge at him. “Then WHY,” she yelled, punctuating every other word with a blow to the mid-section, “DID YOU RUN OFF LIKE THAT? Of all the dumb-ass, stupid, idiotic things I have seen you do around women—and trust me, I have seen a lot—that was, without a doubt, the most asinine, insensitive, jerk-ridden piece of behaviour since Romeo fell off the vines while climbing up to Juliet’s balcony!”
For a second he just looked at her, as though he had been hit with something between the eyes.
“What?”
“Sorry. Stratford Festival, 1997. Don’t ask.”
“Ah-kay.”
Saw it happen. It was awful. Even worse was the old woman next to me who, when Juliet stabbed herself, shouted to the packed house, “That’ll be an awful mess to clean up!”
BWA – HA! I love Stratford, the party never ends. On another note, I don’t like all this beating up of guys. If CJ’s gonna come off all aggressive, Josh should be allowed one good punch. Give a little, get a little, you know?
You did NOT just say that! Right, I’m totally disavowing you from here on in.
Sighing, CJ sat on the edge of Josh’s bed. “You want to do something that will make me stop hitting you?”
“Yes, please.”
Her eyes locked with his, underlining just how serious her next statement was: “Take Donna to the wedding.”
Josh looked utterly flummoxed. “I can’t do that!” he sputtered. “I can’t do that, CJ! You don’t just go up to a girl three hours before the event and ask her to go with you.”
CJ rolled her eyes. “You do that to Donna all the time!”
“That’s different! This is…different.”
Raising an eyebrow deftly, CJ countered him. “Really?”
“She’s already going with Charlie!”
“Big deal. You’re already going with me and I’ll cut you loose in a second if it’s for a good cause.”
“Are you dumping me?” he asked, shocked. Absurd pride made him rear up at the mere suggestion that he could be dumped after being so smooth with Donna only half an hour before. Then again, being free to escort Donna to the wedding would make his whole I-must-seduce-you-tonight-plan much easier to accomplish.
Pussy(!) Josh has got to get his act together.
“Josh—get over yourself. I’m serious here. We’ve all been waiting, oh I don’t know, YEARS for you and Donna to finally figure things out between you. Don’t think I haven’t been tempted more than once to interfere just for the sake of my own sanity. After watching you with her this morning, I know you feel more for her than simple friendship.”
“It’s anything but simple,” he said.
“Then make a move already! But, I should tell you this too: you blow this—you hurt her in any way—I’m going to kick your ass from here to next Tuesday.”
“But—”
“No buts.” She held up a lone finger, effectively silencing him. “No buts. I mean it, Fly Boy. Get your head in the game, or you’re going to lose her.”
Fly boy reminds me of Top Gun.
Now he could smile.
“Trust me, Claudia Jean, that is the last thing that’s going to happen. I already went and got her a little present to go with that delectable dress. From Tiffany’s. How’s that for absolute romantic prowess?”
“It’s a start, mi amor. Now finish it.” Standing, she moved to the door. “I’m going to go talk to Charlie. We’re all behind you on this one, Josh. Don’t screw up.” The door closed behind her with a silent click.
Stripping off his slacks, Josh headed for the shower. He’d show them all—Donna wasn’t going to know what hit her when he was through romancing her tonight. All he had to do now was make sure he didn’t slip on the wet bathroom tiles and crack his head open—because that really would be a stupid thing to do.
Yeah, he’s totally reckless, all right. Take it to the Danger zone, Josh! The DANGER ZONE!!
Now you’ve got me thinking of the “Danger Room” in the X-Men cartoon. Thanks. Dork.
****
And I was still totally baked.
Stands to reason, dude.
Donna had always pictured her own ceremony taking place in a little church somewhere; then, after coming to work at the White House, the little church had transformed itself into the National Cathedral.
Really, who was kidding who here?
After all, she did have connections to the President, and if the Rose Garden wasn’t in bloom…
In any event, Donna had thought a great deal about her own wedding over the years, but if she ever had it in a hotel ballroom, she wanted it to be just like Leo and Jordan’s.
Pretty much from this point on until the end of the “Unzipped” sequel, I was writing the fic while also trying to finish my MA thesis. I’m totally into multi-tasking.
I think two men marrying is totally beautiful! It’s a humanitarian piece, Vicky! Kudos to you! Incidentally, anyone who does NOT want to read about a bunch of flowers skip the next paragraph. ^_^
She still hasn’t figured out it’s not a gay wedding. I’m thinking Ol’ Cathy’s going to be rather disappointed that I’m not as humanitarian as she thought! Bwahahaha. And shut up about the flowers! :-p
There was a white runner coming down the aisle and reaching all the way back to the double oak doors that were thrown open just before Jordan began her march to the altar. Leo waited for his bride under a bower of climbing rambler roses. Fairy lights lit the small set of stairs leading up to where he stood and were also along the walls of the room in crazy patterns, but other than that, there were no decorations. The scent of the roses filled the room like a heady aroma of rich French wine, making Donna want to tip her head back and breathe in with her eyes closed.
Mallory, thrilled to see her father happy again, had quickly agreed to stand up for Jordan—the President stood to Leo’s right. No one had ever thought the Chief of Staff would ask anyone else to be his best man. As Mallory and then Jordan walked along the white runner, the President clapped a hand over Leo’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear that made the groom smile and blink away a tear.
I just love the President and Leo’s relationship.
All these sensitive, affectionate pussy men…
There were about two hundred people filling the small ballroom at the Waldorf, watching the ceremony take place. CJ sat to Donna’s left on the groom’s side of the aisle and both women clutched at each other as Jordan walked by them in her pristine wedding gown.
Oh, she’s a chick. Oh well.
At last!
It was a deceptively simple dress: off white duchess satin in an A-line cut with spaghetti straps leading up from the V-neck bodice. A swathe of white lace encircled Jordan’s torso and a pale blue ribbon was tied about her waist. The material fell away from her hips and lengthened into a six foot train at the back.
Fashion information: this dress is from the Justina McCaffrey Transfigured Collection, called “Ceri” with a gold V-neck and a lace and ribbon-waist detail. I’ve tried to convince one of my friends to go to her boutique in Ottawa for her wedding dress, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.
But, most important of all, it had the swish.
“The swish!” Donna whispered excitedly.
“So totally the swish!” CJ agreed.
Ditz(!) CJ is funny.
Both women smiled fondly as Jordan walked past them and they listened eagerly to the soft rustle and whisper of her train as it moved up the aisle.
In her hands were half a dozen First Lady Roses—the white ones with the slightly pink tipped centre—that the bride handed off to Mallory once the vows began.
Without realising what she was doing, Donna sighed and began to finger the necklace Josh had given her while her other hand played with the lush fabric of her velvet dress. It was a perfect moment for Leo and Jordan that she only wished she could someday have too.
****
Why didn’t I bring back Sam for the wedding? Damn! I miss Sam.
Now, looking at her face as she watched the pair at the front of the room, Josh knew more than ever that he couldn’t screw this up.
But, hey, he hadn’t fallen in the shower, so things were off to a pretty good start.
****
I once met HSH Prince Albert of Monaco at a formal ball in Toronto. He smelled great. Best smelling man ever, actually. ::sigh::
And now here she was, blond, svelte, not exactly an Oscar-winning movie goddess, but something definitely close by West Wing standards—but with no prince.
Then again, Josh had done wondrous things today. Her fingers moved up again to touch the diamond necklace that hung from her neck and rested on the beginning swell of her cleavage. It was so beautiful; she still couldn’t believe he had bought it for her. And from Tiffany’s! Someone must have give that man a good talking to, because in all her years of working alongside him, Josh had never been so romantically perfect for such a long stretch before. It was really rather frightening, but in a good way.
She also couldn’t help thinking that midnight was less than an hour away—midnight on New Year’s Eve when someone would have to come by and kiss her during the singing of Auld Lang Syne. Her chest got tight just wondering what might happen then.
President Bartlet had given a very heartfelt and touching toast to the newly married couple soon after the night began.
This was very hard to write because I wanted it to sound “in character”.
“Leo McGarry has been that irksome angel on my shoulder for longer than I care to think about. And he also fills in for the devil on the other shoulder when Toby is out of town!”
Josh had burst out laughing at that point and Donna had a few seconds worrying she’d have to take him out of the ballroom before he hurt himself—or, more to the point, Toby hurt him. The President had winked at his Communications Director and continued on.
“Leo runs my White House and I run his love life. If I remember correctly, I was the one who pushed Leo to ask Jordan out for dinner in the first place. Yes, that’s right, Leo,” he chortled, “this is all because of me.” There were some more polite guffaws and then things had taken on a slightly more momentous tone. “No, seriously folks, what we all witnessed today was two people we all know and love finally getting their act together and indulging in a little romance. And about time too!”
Aww, good one.
Donna felt that President Bartlet was looking at her and her brilliant new necklace as he had said that. Just as quickly she had felt a burning heat rush through her body, as though she was being watched by more than just one person. She looked around surreptitiously only to find Josh staring at her. Intuitively she knew it was with the same look on his face now that she got whenever she saw rich, chocolate cake with hot chocolate sauce—or whenever she though about Josh without any of his clothes on.
Mmm…chocolate cake and naked Josh.
In fact, it was definitely the no-clothes-on look, because chocolate certainly never gave her a rush like the one she had felt just then.
Blushing furiously, she held his eyes for a second longer than she thought wise and then turned her attention back to the President. Little did she know that her fingers had clutched the entire time to the necklace at the base of her throat.
“I think,” Jed had continued, “that the Song of Solomon includes some of the most beautiful words ever written in the English language.
I think so too, which is why I’m quoting it!
First erotic poem ever written, baby! Yay!
Certainly, it has some appropriate phrases for a couple very much in love on a day like today. So, if you will permit me:
By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth:
I sought him, but I found him not.
I will rise now,
And go about the city in the streets,
And in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth:
I sought him, but I found him not.
The watchmen that go about the city found me:
To whom I said, “Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?”
It was but a little that I passed from them,
But I found him whom my soul loveth:
I held him, and would not let him go,
Until I had brought him into my mother’s house,
And into the chamber of her that conceived me.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
By the roes, and by the hinds of the field,
That ye stir not up, nor awake my love,
Till he please.
(Song of Solomon, Chapter 3)
(The Bible, obviously)
I am not about to try and outdo the observations of King Solomon and, besides, I don’t think I can say anything more fitting than that, to all of you.” Raising his glass, the President saluted his Chief of Staff and best friend, and then gallantly kissed Jordan’s hand. “Ladies and gentlemen! The Adorable Couple!”
Four weddings and a funeral, right?
Totally!
Awesome!
Now, it was several hours and even more glasses of champagne later. Music filled the room; Leo and Jordan looked absolutely inseparable, though the President had managed to steal the bride for a lone waltz.
Donna had danced with Charlie—as a consolation for breaking his well-intentioned date for the evening—but her eyes kept flittering over to where Josh stood near Toby against the wall. She knew he wasn’t one for dancing, but still, shouldn’t he have asked her to dance by now? Otherwise, why had he bought the necklace and said all those sweet things? Why had he reacted so intensely to her in the dress that morning if he hadn’t had any plans for at least dancing with her once tonight?
There was always a point during a formal evening when Donna felt sad. It happened every time: at her junior and senior prom, at the formals she had gone to during her limited university career, definitely at all of the White House white-tie events—excluding that one fantastic inaugural ball when she had arrived at the party fresh from a ride on Josh’s lap in the limo, but that had been a completely insane night. It was the exception that made the rule. Somehow, the act of putting on an expensive, beautiful gown always made her expectations soar, and then things would never be quite as good as she had hoped.
Hmm…has anyone else ever felt like this before??
Yeah, we talked about this! Still though, I think Donna’s being a bit whiny.
In another five minutes, she could add Leo’s wedding to the list of Cinderella evenings that just didn’t quite have that happy ending she curiously always expected.
“Donna!”
She looked over to see CJ shimmying towards her across the dance floor. “Why aren’t you dancing?”
Donna smiled. “I don’t know.”
“That’s a silly answer.”
“Definitely.”
“Come! Dance! Be merry! Show off that fantabulous dress so that everyone can see it!”
Smoothing a hand down the rich fabric, Donna felt her smile suffuse the rest of her face with brilliance. “It really does look nice, doesn’t it?”
“Nice? You must be out of your mind. You’re a complete knock-out! All anyone has to do is to watch a certain Deputy Chief of Staff to know how killer you look tonight. Plus, it’s nearly New Year’s—you have to get a dance in by midnight!”
“You certainly have been dancing up a storm with a certain British Lord tonight.”
“Isn’t he fabulous? I love John Marbury—he calls me principessa.”
I love how Lord John often pops up when you least expect it in my fics. “Cheese Love Songs: Storms Colliding” is a case in point.
“I know,” Donna said. “You’ve told me before.”
“Well, I love it.”
“As well you should. But—I’m confused. I thought you were coming tonight with Josh. I heard him ask you back in Vera Wang
…wee…
a few days ago.”
CJ shrugged mysteriously. “Things change.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come and dance, Donna! Pretty soon I’ll be doing ‘The Jackal’ and then I’m leaving as quickly as possibly before Toby begins to play an air-bass guitar.”
Hah! Toby’s hilarious.
“Well, maybe I’ll come out for a quick spin—”
Just then, she felt a hand against the small of her back. She turned around, never noticing CJ slipping away back onto the dance floor. At that moment, all she could see was Josh.
“Hello.”
He ran a hand along her arm, taking a step backwards to look at her from tip to toes. “You look amazing.”
“Is that what you were going to tell me this morning, but couldn’t?”
“Maybe.” His smile was rakishly unreadable. “What did you think of the President’s toast?”
“It was beautiful. Didn’t you think that?”
“Of course…I just…you know…I thought it could apply to more than just Leo and Jordan.”
It was getting hard for her to breathe. At some point, he would have to do something Joshishly stupid, right?
“Um, yes. Of course it could.” Before she could say anything else, she felt an overwhelming urge to finish off her champagne. Swallowing the last few dregs, she saw that Josh was doing the same thing.
“How many of those have you had tonight?” she asked, gesturing to his own now-empty champagne flute.
“A few,” he smiled.
“Oh dear.”
“Hey!”
“Sorry,” she said, sounding not in the least bit contrite. “I just keep having this image of you with some stripper’s panties slung around your neck, smelling like the ninth ring of Hell.”
“I’ll never live that down, will I?”
“Nope.”
Josh took their glasses and set them down on sidetable. “So, how are you doing?”
“All right.” Her voice was quietly soft as she answered. “You?”
“Well, I’ve kind of had this problem all night.”
She immediately became concerned and took a step closer to him as though she might suddenly reach out and feel his forehead to take his temperature. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling all right? Is your head hot?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Well, not ‘fine’ but—”
“But what?”
Looking her straight in the eye, he told her the truth. “Donna, I am never going to be ‘fine’ when you are standing there in front of me wearing that dress. Never.”
Goodbye, Flustered!Josh! You have been replaced. Hello, Sexy!Josh. Nice to see you again.
I love the dialogue between the two…really well done.
Thanks. I try.
For a brief second she didn’t move, but then a blush began to bloom across her breasts and touching the skin along her alabaster neck. “Is that so?”
“Didn’t you see me this morning when you first put it on?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “That was kind of hard to miss.”
He wanted to touch her. His fingers itched to touch her, but something stopped him. Whatever it was also stopped their conversation. An awkward silence settled over them.
“So.”
“So.”
“What happened to Charlie?” he asked. “I thought he was your date for tonight.”
“What happened to CJ?” she countered.
Josh shrugged. “I couldn’t compare with Lord John Marbury in a tuxedo. I always knew she’d ditch me for a bad man with a good accent. And you?”
Mmm…stuck on the bad-men-good-accent thing. I live in London now, and it’s sooooo true! Cathy, back me up on this.
‘S true. My cousin just visited Canada and got lucky with a whole MESS of girls. They love the accent. I hope he doesn’t kill me for telling people that.
“Charlie was sweet to ask me, but I think it was fairly close to being a pity thing.”
“Pity? He pitied you? You have got to be joking.”
Donna looked down at the floor and then at the couples dancing. “I had just found out that the man I like wasn’t going to be my date for tonight. I was in a bit of a funk.”
“Oh.” Josh immediately backed away from her. “I see.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t think you do.”
Josh began to say anything to keep himself from thinking about Donna liking some random stranger he had never heard of before. “Well, it was…uh…really nice of Charlie to want to be…you know…your ‘escort’ for tonight.”
“It was very nice, but I let him know earlier today that I really should be on my own.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You want to be alone? Really? Okay.”
A tiny crinkle appeared in the middle of her brow as she watched his reaction to her news. “Josh? You look kind of weird.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in anyone new these days.”
“Did I say that?”
“Didn’t you?”
Oh, brother! Even as the author, I was yelling at Josh to get a clue!
Friggin pansy ass mo’fo.
Then Donna spoke and disturbed his silent mental torture. “It’s not anyone new,” she confessed.
“So it’s someone old.”
“Well, I don’t know if he would ever think of himself as an older man, though he certainly has about a decade on me.”
Josh began to fidget. It was all getting to be a bit too much. “Right. Well. That’s…yeah. Okay, I’m going to go over there now.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Josh.”
“Donna.”
“Josh!” Donna smacked him on the arm—hard. “You’re an idiot!”
Amen, sister!
He should seriously start smacking back on these violent women. No wonder he’s such a pussy!
Cathy, stop. Stop right now, or you’ll cross from snarky into downright offensive, which isn’t allowed. So STOP!!!!!
“You know, that’s the second time today that a woman has hit me and then said that. I’m getting really tired of it. I am not an idiot. I happen to be a very smart man.” Good for you, buddy.
“Yes, you are. But you’re also an idiot. There are times when I just can’t believe you!” She now stood less than a foot away from him—he could have put his arm around her if she gave him the chance. Her tone was harsh, but her words seemed soft and heartfelt. “You walk into the dress shop this morning and make me feel like the sexiest woman alive just from the way you looked at me. Then, this afternoon, you give me this necklace and make me feel like a princess. You’re just so—and you make me feel so—good and beautiful and pretty and smart—and now you’re just going to walk away from me? Why? It’s you, Josh! It’s always been you!”
Dum dum-de DUM!!
Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. All the restraint that had been controlling him fell away. His hand traced the curve of her hip, touching that amazing dress. “Really?” he asked. It was all he could say just then.
Donna reached out and touched his face, closing the gap between them. “Who else?” she whispered. “Do you hear me in there? It has always been you.”
The dimples dug deep crevices into his face as he gave her the biggest smile of his life. He moved a hairsbreadth closer to her and then suddenly became serious. Taking her hand, he tried to lead her to the nearest exit.
“Okay, we need to leave now.”
I’m with Josh on this one. Subtlety is so overrated.
Damn women and their damn subtlety.
“What?” Donna asked.
“We. Need. To. Leave. Now.” Just in case she didn’t catch his drift, he wiggled his eyebrows at her in what he hoped was a really sexy, suave move.
Sex!
“Why do we need to leave right now?”
“Because,” he whispered urgently, “I need to touch you and I can’t do that here.”
“Yes, you can,” she whispered back.
The feel of her breath on his ear made his jaw tighten. “You’re not making sense.”
“Look. Feel this.” She took his hand and ran it up the velvet bodice of her burgundy dress, so that his hand moved with the fibres rather than against them.
The noise that came out of Josh’s mouth could only be characterised as a slightly dignified squeak. “Okay.” He looked around the ballroom and then headed back towards its centre. Crooking a finger, he beckoned Donna to follow. “Come here.”
“What are we doing now?”
“Dancing,” he answered one moment before their feet hit the marble floor.
“But, Josh!” Donna hissed. “You can’t dance!”
“Do you really care right now?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Good. Come here,” he growled and then took her in his arms.
One of my friends pointed out the other day that dancing is really just foreplay. Why can’t more men figure that out? Then again, we were watching “Dirty Dancing” at the time, which might have made us *slightly* biased.
Still though, if I were Donna I would have left by now.
Dirty Dancing is *hooooooooooot*”
Leaning down, he began to whisper in her ear. “Donna?”
“Mmm?”
“When I found out that Charlie was taking you to the wedding, I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.”
See? Now he’s traumatized by all the beatings he gets!
She laughed into his lapels. “Is that why you started to woo me this afternoon?”
“Wooing is important. I have this memory of someone repeatedly telling me that women like to be wooed while I tried to fire her.”
“What happened?”
“She was impervious.”
“Well, whoever she was, she was right. Women like to be wooed.”
“So I should keep it up?”
The mischievous gleam in her eyes as she looked up at him told him she had caught him in a risky double entendre. “Should I?” he urged.
“Why ever not?”
They lapsed into a delicious silence once more, holding each other, until Josh suddenly groaned and pulled away.
“I can’t get enough.”
“I just can’t get enough”
INXS – word! I can’t believe I just typed ‘word’. ::shakes head::
“Enough of what?” she asked, truly curious.
“This.” He bent down and breathed in the scent of where her neck met her shoulder, just as he had done after giving her the necklace. “This smell,” he continued, “just here. It drove me crazy this afternoon.”
“Hold on.” Leaning in, she smelled the skin near his shirt collar. “That’s nice.”
“You like my aftershave?”
“Not just that.” She leaned in again and sniffed deeply, then bent her head back and closed her eyes. “It’s the aftershave and also your soap and whatever they use to press your suit and, well, something that’s just—just you.”
I like man-smell. Just thought I’d throw that out there.
He pulled her closer than ever before, wrapping his arms around her. When she looked at him, he was wearing that cocky grin of his that never failed to make her weak in the knees.
“You know, that’s just a small little bit of me you smelled right there.”
“What are you saying Mr Lyman—that I should smell the rest of you?”
“Definitely.”
Her eyes never left his as he leaned in to kiss her. She could feel his breath on her lips and knew that her own were parting slightly to welcome him home.
They never got that far, as the President once again grabbed the microphone and began the countdown to midnight. Someone jostled Donna so that she fell against Josh’s chest. He missed her lips and ended up kissing her ear before slightly staggering from the odd angle. She righted herself immediately and began to brush down her dress, in case it had ridden up in the sudden crush of people.
They didn’t say anything as the last moments of the year slipped away. “10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
“Happy New Year, Josh.”
He smiled. “The first of many, Donna.”
Oh, this won a GCCA too. “Best Kiss”. Again, I’m proud but rather incredulous.
Sweeeeet
“What does that me—mmmmph.” His mouth closed over hers before she could even finish her thought.
His lips were warm and sweet, tasting of the champagne and something sugary, like cake icing. She liked it. A frisson of something electric raced down her spine until she thought every hair on her body must be standing on end. It was…unbelievable.
“Wow,” she breathed, when they parted.
“Yeah.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I kind of—” She began to tip her mouth up to his again.
“Yeah. Definitely.”
The second kiss was deeper. They moulded their bodies together so that there was no space in between them. The tip of his tongue tickled the outline of her mouth but never quite demanded entry. For an endless time they remained locked together, twisting their heads to gain a better angle. His hands framed her face as their lips meshed together again and again and again.
It was hard to breathe when they parted this time. Donna thought she might actually be panting. “That was…”
“Totally wicked.”
“God, yes.”
They looked at each other, eyes locked, mouths parted, not moving.
Then they fell into each other’s arms.
So really, it’s *three* kisses, rather than one.
MMmmmmmmm.
This time there was nothing restrained or polite about the kiss. It was rough, primal and totally hot. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting, tracing, and teasing every inch he could touch. Then she joined him in a playful joust, running her hands through his hair before winding her arms around his neck. His hands raced up and down her back, never feeling enough of that burgundy dress that drove him wild.
They broke apart only when it became absolutely necessary to breathe. Josh rested his forehead against hers.
“You…wanna…go for a walk?” he croaked.
“Not…really.”
“Oh.” His arms fell away from her body. Donna took a step backwards and then reached out for his hand, lacing their fingers together.
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to go upstairs?”
His head shot up, all smiles and grins and fabulous dimples. “Seriously?”
“Joshua, I am always serious when I’m in the middle of seducing a really hot man.”
“Oh, no. I am the one seducing you.”
You dirty DIRTY girl!!!
“I beg to differ.” Lightly holding his wrist, she let his fingers graze up the bodice of her dress once more, stopping just below the swells of her breasts. “THAT is the feeling of seduction.”
And *that* one action is why the dress had to be so incredible. It needed the ‘feel-me-up’ quality, among other things.
Josh got this look in his eye, like he was being challenged. But this time, it wasn’t some hard-nosed Republican, but a very beautiful and apparently willing Donna. It was a contest straight out of his fantasies.
“Donna, I won’t deny that you look and feel amazing, but trust me—I am about to knock your socks off.”
“I’m not wearing any socks.”
“Even better.”
Holding hands like the Campbell Soup Kids, they left the ballroom and began to run up the main staircase together. No doubt the rest of the staff had seen them leave together, but it wasn’t like it was a real surprise that they had finally figured things out.
Really, who was kidding who here?
So are you sick of the catchphrase yet? Now you know how I felt about Amy and those damn apples.
Campbell Soup kids?? Oh…GOD…mental image that I DID not need!!!!!
With one hand holding up the front of her gown so she could climb the stairs, Donna turned and looked at Josh. “You know,” she began, “I’ve had a fair bit of champagne tonight.”
“Are you telling me that you’re squiffy?”
“No, Josh, I’m not like you in that respect. But I might have a bit of a champagne headache by morning.”
“I might too.”
“That could be interesting.”
“Well,” he said in his most chivalrous tone of voice, “I’ll hold your head.”
“I’ll hold yours.”
See, for me, that’s *real* romance.
That and holding someone’s head while they’re ralphin’
“But we’ve a little while before we start worshipping the porcelain gods, right?”
She smiled. “Oh, most definitely.”
“Then there’s not any time to waste, is there?”
Swinging her up into his arms, he made a dash for the elevator. Donna screeched and then began to laugh. The day, and especially the night, had been a great success and now she was going to have her greatest triumph—as soon as she could get out of her dress!
But as the elevator doors closed and Josh pinned her against the wall, kissing her senseless, she thought she just might be able to find someone to help her with that tricky zipper in the back.
Ah, the zipper problem reappears!
Please insert Disc Two to continue the commentary…or just read the “Unzipped” sequel.