Word Play

“Help yourself.” With a smile the woman pulled her long brown hair to the side and watched as he sat down. She reached her hand out. “I’m sorry, I’m Madison. Madison Hansen.”

“My name is Eugene, nice to meet you.” He shook her hand and couldn’t help but notice she had her top undone in the back to avoid tan lines and he was getting a nice view of her perky breasts below her lifted body as they shook hands.

In fact, she began to giggle as he shook her hand continuously. She also noticed him staring at her jiggling breasts. “Um, are you enjoying the view?”

Turning fifty shades of red, he knew he was caught. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but look. I apologize.”

The real waiter walked by and Eugene ordered Madison a margarita and got himself a tequila sunrise. When the drinks arrived he paid the guy, handed Madison her drink and noticed the cover of the book laying on the towel beside her.

It was one he had released last year. Velvet Vice was the title. It sold well, but not like his earlier novels. “So, you like reading that type of book?” he asked, trying to find out what a fan thought.

She shrugged, “I used to read any book Angela Jollie put out. Lately though, her books have been rather flat and lifeless. When the characters are having sex I want to feeeel it. I want to squirm in my seat. Need to feel like it’s me getting laid and the passion causing my heart to pound hard and fast as I orgasm.”

Eugene started to drool. “I see.”

“I know how hard it is to keep it up, but it’s almost like there’s no heart behind the new stories. Cut and paste the plots, change the names and setting. She needs to go back to where she started and write like that. She wrote some hot shit.”

His ego deflated again as did his swelling cock. Sometimes the truth hurt and people needed to be knocked off the little pedestals they made for themselves. Madison’s blunt honesty gave Eugene a perspective he needed to hear. Maybe she was right. He hadn’t felt the intensity of his earlier books since his fiancée left him. It was sad but his real life had crossed over into his written words.

They sat talking for a bit about different things. The typical topics like favorite vacation spots, the weather, and other burning questions.

“What happens if Batman gets bit by a vampire? Isn’t Disney World just a giant people trap run by a mouse? Is it true that cannibals don’t eat clowns because they taste funny? If four out of five people suffer from diarrhea does the fifth person enjoy it?” Eugene rambled off these as Madison stared at him confused and somewhat freaked out.

“Does your brain always work like that?”

He felt comfortable around Madison. At ease almost. Even though he didn’t say anyth

ing, hearing from a few different people were let down by the books he was writing hurt.

“You know it can be really stressful being a writer. It’s hard to keep the intensity that high book after book. The powers that be have a formula they like and it makes it tough for a writer to follow the same plan every time. Everyone has to live happily ever after.”

Eugene paused, he was actually describing the issues that were causing his writers block. “I just can’t keep writing the same thing over and over. I need to get back to the earlier times when everything was fresh and new.”

Madison looked at Eugene. “What are you talking about? You must be on some weird drugs or something, because you’re rambling.”

“Madison, I’m Angela Jollie.”

Scooting a little away from Eugene, she looked at him and raised her eyebrow, “Okay and I’m SpongeBob Squarepants.”

“I’m serious. I’m writer Angela Jollie. I use a pen name because I’m a man writing romance and erotica. It’s a long story. I can prove it.” He reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch with business cards in it. They had a publishing company logo on it with his name and below it read “Writing as Angela Jollie”.

“Eugene S. Finkter? That’s your real name? God, your parents were cruel” She grinned and handed the card back.

“No, keep it.” He slumped back into the chair and sighed.

“You know,” she paused, “I think it’s kind of sexy that you write erotica. I mean it’s not often you meet someone who writes and thinks about sex all the time. Well, you’re a guy and everything but I mean doing it for a living. It must be a blast to do research.”

Eugene turned and smiled at Madison as she lay back down on her towel in the sun. “It’s not what people think. I don’t actually do all the things I write about. It’s all just fantasies. Things I’d like to do, the people I think about as an image to use for a character. Lately, I don’t know, it’s just not there. I just can’t do it. Writer’s block or whatever, something is missing. I don’t know, I’ll get my groove back again.”

“You know something? I do some painting as a hobby. I suck at it but I still do it. I find that the best things I paint are spontaneous and free. I just let go and paint. Some are of a person sitting on a bench in a park, kids playing, whatever. It isn’t something I plan; my mood tells me what to paint. Maybe you need something less confined and more spontaneous to write about.”

He sat for a moment thinking about what Madison was telling him.

“You want to do me?”

Eugene coughed into his drink, “Excuse me?”

“Do me. You know, use me to write about. I’d love to be in a story.”