I was having a wonderful, wonderful dream.

It involved Donna (as if any of us doubted otherwise) but she was only speaking to me in Italian. The extent of my Italian vocabulary mainly comes from frozen pizza commercials. However, I could understand every word she was saying to me.

There was tomato sauce and, well. . . . .Donna.

And let’s just say there was a repetition of the word, “si” on her part.

I am so the man.

Well, at least in my dreams I am.

It all really doesn’t matter right now. I was broken away from my dream by my cell phone. Someone has interrupted my little fantasy of Donnatella Primavera.

This better be good.

“Hello,” I finally spit out, after retrieving my phone from the clip on my waist.

“Josh?”

Oh, well, this should be lots of fun.

“No, Sam, I’m actually the guy who stole Josh’s cell phone and decided to randomly answer it. It’s a really nice phone. Although, I was looking through all the stored numbers in the memory and there’s one that says, ‘sit room.’ You think I should give that one a try?”

“Well, we’re in a chipper mood this morning. Where are you?”

That’s an excellent question. I look down and realize there’s a blanket over me with little Strawberry Shortcake characters on it. Or maybe they’re Care Bears. Or those dolls they had in the 80s. You know, those things that came from lettuce. Or maybe cabbages. Some leafy vegetable.

The question of where I am is quickly answered. “Well, Sam, it would appear I’m in Donna’s apartment.”

“Excellent. . . . You are the man.”

Somehow I doubt he’d call me the man if he saw this blanket on me. Smurfs. . . . .maybe they’re Smurfs.

“Sam, I’m not in any way putting down my ability to be the man. However, I’m actually on Donna’s couch.”

“You’re on her couch? One night together and she already kicked you out to the couch? This doesn’t bode well for the future, my friend.”

“I don’t think I ever got to the point where she could kick me out to the couch.”

“Oh. . . .OH! You mean, you couldn’t get it. . . . “

Leave it to Sam to think of it that way. “No, I mean. . . . .”

I wish I knew what I meant. I’m afraid, though, that I remember very little of it all.

“Sam, I’m pretty sure I passed out drunk on Donna’s couch.”

There’s mostly silence for the next couple minutes. Although, I do hear an occasional chuckle, and a snort or two.

“Sam, you still breathing?”

“I think.”

“I’m glad I could have brought you so much enjoyment this early on a Sunday morning.”

“Do you remember anything that happened?”

“Well, I remember dinner. There was food and liquor.” So much liquor. “I had wine and possibly a tequila shot. And there was this really perverted waiter named Mario. He was totally hitting on Donna. Watch out for Italian men, Sam.”

“What, when they hit on me?”

“No. . . . .You know, just in general.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m in Milan, or hanging out at the Armani store.”

“Good. . . . .now, I remember the main course. Penne pomodoro, by the way. I highly recommend it.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“After the penne, it all starts to get a little fuzzy. I think I remember trying to order dessert. . . .”

Oh my god, dessert.

“Josh?”

“Yep?”

“Dessert?”

“Ummm. . . . .”

“Josh, did you get sick in the middle of the restaurant?”

“No, even worse. I think I told Donna I wanted her to be dessert.”

He’s laughing again. Although, this time I think he at least had the courtesy to cover the phone.

This is. . . . . .this is. . . . .okay, my vocabulary skills are seriously lacking at this moment.

This is just bad.

I’m a complete. . . . .complete. . . . .

I need Sam and his dictionary.

“Sam, what’s a good synonym for ‘idiot?’”

“Uh, let’s see. . . . . imbecile?”

“No, something stronger than that.”

“Jackass?”

“That’s too common a put down.”

“Nincompoop?”

“Did you just say ‘nincompoop?’”

“Yes, I did. Nincompoop. Its origin is unknown but I tend to think it sounds rather Germanic. Spelling is N-I-N-C-“

“Sam, if you spell Nincompoop for me, I going to hang up on you, and you won’t hear another thing about what happened last night.”

“There’s no need to threaten. I will stop, though, but only because I really want to know what a nincompoop you were. Now, what else happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t remember anything else?”

“Not really.”

“You are so screwed.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.”

“Not a problem.”

“Sam, what am I going to do?”

“I’ve only got one solution for you.”

I knew there was a reason I was friends with this man. “Okay, talk to me.”

“It’s what I would do.”

See, he’s putting himself into my shoes. He’s going beyond the call of duty to help a friend in need. “I’m ready. . . . .”

“You gotta get the hell out of there before she wakes up.”

“This is your plan?”

“I think it’s a good one.”

“They really let you write speeches for the leader of the free world?”

“Hey, the leader of the free world didn’t tell his date. . . . . .excuse me. . . . .didn’t tell his dinner companion that he wanted to eat her for dessert.”

He wanted to eat her for dessert?

I cannot believe I said that. What a way to charm a woman, Lyman. You told her you wanted to eat her for dessert. You came home with her, god knows what happened to you, and now you’re lying on a couch with a children’s cartoon blanky on you.

“Hello.”

I know I’m hung over. Okay, perhaps I’m still drunk. However, unless Sam has learned to throw his voice though the phone, there’s someone else here. And unless Donna has a major throat problem that causes her to talk like a man first thing in morning, it’s not her either.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?” “You didn’t just say something, did you?”

“No,”

All suspicions of my previous idea have just been confirmed by what just walked past me into the kitchen.

“Sam, I gotta go.”

“Is Donna there?”

“Uh. . . . . no.”

“Well, then wait. . . . I want to help you remember everything else that happened.”

“Nope, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Why?”

“Well, there’s a man in his boxer shorts currently entering Donna’s kitchen. I’m thinking it may be in my best interest to figure out who he is.”

“A man in boxer shorts? Okay, you’re totally on your own now, buddy. I don’t think I want anymore details of happened to you last –“

Ooops. . . . . .hung up on him.

Now to the more important issue at hand.

“Uh. . . . . .hello?”

He reappears from the kitchen with a carton of orange juice. “What’s up, man?”

Man? He’s talking to me as if he knows me. He’s almost naked and he’s referring to me as if we’re buddies.

What kind of buddies? I’m also sitting here with a girly blanket on me and this scantly clad man appears to know me. How exactly do I know him?

I’ve got to stop drinking.

“Ummmm. . . .” How does one phrase this? “Do I know you?”

He squints his eyes at me from across the room. “I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t think I know him. This is wonderful. I’m so happy, I think I could kiss him right now.

Okay, you know, that’s not at all what I meant there. I do not want to kiss him. I’m just very relieved right now.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just not my choice of lifestyle. Especially when I have absolutely no knowledge of doing it.

However, we still have to take in account that he’s almost naked and he’s in Donna’s apartment. Donna has an almost naked man in his apartment.

And it’s not me.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Eddie.”

Of course, he’s Eddie. How completely silly of me.

“Who are you?” He takes a swig from the container of orange juice. He’s sharing orange juice containers with Donna. Just thought I’d point that out.

“I’m Josh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m not too sure. I just kind of woke up here.”

“Yeah, that happens to me all the time.”

It does? “Do you wake up here often?”

“No, just the last couple of days.”

Well, that’s a relief. . . .I think.

Suddenly, for one of the first times in my life, I’m at a loss for words. I mean, really. . . what does one say to an almost naked man who just admitted he often wakes up in strange places, and is also drinking orange juice out of the same container Donna drinks out of?

“Dude,” he extends the container in my direction, “you want some juice?”

He’s giving me juice? Is this some sort of peace offering? ‘Hi, sorry I’m almost naked and in Donna’s apartment. Have some juice and we’ll be friends.’

“No, I think I’m good.”

“Whatever. . . . . .dude, are those the Gummi Bears?”

“The Gummi who?”

“The Gummi Bears.” He nods his head like I should have any idea what he’s talking about.

“You mean, like, the candy?”

“No, the cartoon. On your blanket. . . .those are the Gummi Bears. Didn’t you watch cartoons in the 80s?”

“No, actually, I was too busy attending Harvard and Yale.”

“You went to both? Why, did they kick you out of one?”

I swear to god, I’ve got to be on Candid Camera. “No, I got my undergrad degree from Harvard and I went to Yale for law school.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those smart guys?”

“Apparently not.”

“Whatever. . . .So, Josh, you must be Donna’s non-date from last night.”

Donna’s non-date? This is what she’s now referring to me as to her naked little boy toy, Eddie. “Ummm. . . . I guess you could say that. How did you know about our. . . non-date?”

“She was telling me about yesterday morning before she left for work.”

“You were with Donna yesterday in the morning?”

“Yeah, I even helped her pick out the outfit she wore. The fuzzy sweater was totally my idea.” He’s nodding his head and smiling, as if he just found a new source of plutonium.

“So. . . . .you helped her pick out her clothes?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to. but she just kinda looked helpless standing there in her underwear.”

“In her. . . . .in her. . . .” God, I can’t even get the word out. The thought of Donna in her underwear is enough to render me completely speechless. And the thought of this. . . . this. . . . .nincompoop seeing Donna in her underwear is enough to leave me completely baffled.

“Dude. . . dude. . . uh. . . .Josh?”

“Um . . . . yeah?”

“You just turned green. You okay?”

“Maybe. . . .”

“Kay,” He walks across the living room and sits next to me on the couch. Eddie, the almost naked man who has managed to crush my ego to the size of a pea is now sitting within inches of me. “Dude, you mind if I turn the TV on.”

Crush the ego, ruin my life, hell, take my job if you want it. “Yeah. . . .sure,” I mumble.

“Excellent,” he reaches for the remote and flicks on the TV, “maybe the Gummi Bears are on the Cartoon network.”

* * * * *

There is something rather bothersome about waking up to male voices coming from different parts of your apartment. You know, when you’re not generally use to it. Once in a while, when Colleen drags some guy home, I’ll hear voices coming from her room. But those are usually odd grunts and screams of pain. I swear, one night I also heard the rattling of chains. I have no idea what the girl does and I have no intention on finding out.

This morning, though, I awoke to the sound of two male voices coming from the living room. A few moments after I woke up, I remembered Josh and his little drunken escapade in my living room last night. I was sure after all he had to drink, I’d have to get out a megaphone to wake him up.

I’m currently on my way out to the living room in my pajamas and a bathrobe. I swear. . . if he brought Sam over in an attempt to save him from monumental embarrassment, I’m going to kill both of them.

“Okay, no . . . .the one on the left is George Will.”

“Then who is that other dude?”

“That’s Sam Donaldson.”

“And the chick in the Donna Karan suit?”

“Cokie Roberts.”

“What kind of name is Cokie?”

“I’m not sure. I tried to ask her once and I had to duck to avoid her fist.”

Forget Felix and Oscar. I’ve just found the ultimate example of the odd couple. Josh and Eddie (still half naked, by the way) are sitting on my couch watching This Week. Eddie in his boxers and Josh still in his dress shirt with my Gummi Bears blanket over him. Perhaps I should have found a manlier blanket to throw over him tonight. No, this sight is much, much more amusing.

“Hey guys,”

Josh and Eddie break away from Sam and Cokie, who seem to be leading a heavy debate on school vouchers.

“Hey Donna,” Eddie greats with a smile.

Josh just gives me a slight glare and a nod.

“What are you guys going?”

“Well, I was trying to find a good cartoon to watch but I passed by these suits and Josh made me stop.”

Eddie is referring to Josh by his first name. This means they’ve made enough small talk to know each other’s names. This also means they’ve been conversing. That makes me very scared for both of them.

“Josh, how ya doing?”

“Good,”

“You’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah,”

“You need anything?”

“Nope,” he turns back to Cokie and Sam.

“You think you’re going to answer me with anything more than one word responses today?”

“Maybe.”

Well, that sounds promising.

“Eddie, what are you up to today?”

“Nothing much.”

I look at him and realize he’s pretty much in the same state as when I saw him yesterday. Same boxers, same disheveled hair, and the same basic look of confusion on his face. I’m thinking the look of confusion is a permanent fixture for Eddie.

“Eddie, when was the last time you were in your own apartment?”

“Uh. . . . .Friday morning.”

“It’s Sunday now.”

“Yep, yep it is.”

“You ever planning on leaving?”

“Maybe,”

Okay, sounds good. So, I’ve now got half naked Eddie and a rather pissed and hung over Josh. Something weird must have gone down here in my absence. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yep,” he says staring very intently at the TV. He’s probably got the hots for Cokie. Or he just really likes her suit.

“Eddie, why don’t you go into my room for a while? See if you can find something for me to wear today.”

“Where you going?”

“To work.”

“But it’s Sunday.”

“Some of us work on Sundays.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Eddie. . . .”

“But I’m really into this thing about free lunches at school.”

Josh and I give Eddie the same confused look. “Lunch?” we say in unison.

“Yeah, isn’t that what those coupons are for?”

“Vouchers, Eddie. They’re not for free lunch, though.”

“They’re not?” He asks, finally looking away from the TV.

“No, Eddie. Maybe Josh will explain the whole thing to you later.”

Eddie get up and walks pasts me, mumbling something about how, “You government folks are just plain weird.”

I walk over to the couch and take a seat next to Josh. He’s still staring at the TV and pretending to not even notice my presence.

“Josh?”

“Donna, I’m watching This Week.”

Well, at least that’s more than a one-word answer. I look at the TV to find there’s a commercial on. A smile stretches across my face and it’s takes all of my power not to laugh. “Josh, I think you’re watching an ad for Viagra.”

He just nods his head and keeps his eyes on the TV screen. These kinds of moments usually give Josh some sort of sarcastic, on the borderline of kinky, idea to reply back to me with.

“Josh, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,”

“Josh, tell me.”

“Donna, I’m learning about erectile dysfunction here. Why don’t you just go off and organize your wardrobe with Eddie.”

“Wait, you think. . . . .” he looks up at me and I’m once again fighting back laughter. He thinks Eddie is my. . . .

Well, I’m not too sure what he thinks he is. But this is just too good to be true. I look at him with a serious expression and lower my voice. “So, you know about Eddie and I?”

“Donna, it’s rather obvious. He’s almost naked in your apartment and he walks around like he owns the place. Then he starts telling me about how he was helping you get dressed yesterday –“

“Helping me get dressed?” I’ve got to be grinning by now.

“Well, you were in your underwear and he found that sweater for you.”

“The fuzzy one?”

“Yes,” he closes his eyes and bites his lip, “the fuzzy one.”

“He really loves that sweater.”

“He does?”

I nod. “Okay, well, I’m off to get dressed. Get ready and I’ll drive you back to the restaurant for your car.”

“My car?” Now he looks completely baffled. I’m not too sure if it’s from his selective memory about last night, or about my man, Eddie.

“Yes, your car. We had to leave it at the restaurant. I’ll drive you over and then I’ll meet you at work.”

“Okay. . . .”

“Josh, do you remember anything about from last night?”

He’s silent for a moment and looks like he’s really trying to remember anything that occurred. Finally, he shakes his head and very quietly whispers, “no.”

This is getting better by the minute. “Okay, well, I’ll be ready soon.”

“I’ll be right here,” he says, and gestures with his hands to the sofa and his legs that are wrapped in a Gummi Bear blanket cocoon.

I return to my bedroom to find Eddie standing in front of my closet, holding a purple turtleneck, and a pair of black pants. “I think this color would be great on you.”

“Eddie, you should be working the runways in Paris.”

“I don’t like working very much,” he tosses the pants and sweater and heads for the door, “I’m gonna go see if Colleen’s awake and if she knows wear the key is.”

Dare I ask? “The key?”

“Yeah, she has these handcuffs and I think she was a little out of it last night to remember where the key is. So she’s still kind of –“

“Okay, Eddie. . . . that’s more than I need to know.” See, I shouldn’t have dared. “But Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Wait in here while I get changed.”

“Excellent.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not a show, Eddie. Get in the closet until I’m done.”

“But. . . .”

I point towards the closet. “Go!”

He obeys and scurries over to the closet. I seriously have to reevaluate my life. I’ve got one hot guy hiding in my closet so he won’t see me changing, and I’ve got my. . . .whatever Josh is, in the living room hopefully thinking that Eddie is now watching me change.

Yeah, this is completely normal.

* * * * *

I’ve learned more about the ways of Eddie in the past couple hours than I ever needed to know. No man should be put through the torture I’ve been endured today.

Let’s see. . . . on the car ride back to the restaurant I learned about Eddie and his cute little habits. And how under that airhead image, he’s really quite intelligent. He’s sweet and caring. He has goals in life, Donna tells me. He may seem like a bum who just hangs around the house all day, but he has amazing goals in life.

Since we’ve arrived at work I’ve overheard her talking to someone on the phone about Eddie and how great his is. Sure, they just meet a couple days ago but she just knows that she’s found “the one.”

Oh, and how can I forget how Eddie is such a sensitive man? And when I say sensitive, I mean it in more ways that one. Let’s just say Eddie has no need to be watching Viagra ads.

Why doesn’t she just take me out behind the White House and kill me now? It would be a much quicker process than the slow death I’m currently experiencing.

I’m such a, for the lack of a better word, nincompoop.

I let her go. I followed the advice of my mother. The advice of Sam. The advice of Joey Lucus. Hell, I was waiting for an editorial in the New York Times entitled, “Hey, nincompoop. Go for it already!!”

And what did I do? I waited too long and I lost her.

I lost her to Beavis, Butt-head, Bill, Ted, and the Three Stooges, all rolled into one.

And to make it all worse, I had one chance. I had one night with her and I can’t remember a damn thing that happened. Well, except for that minor detail about wishing she was a cannoli.

All this has lead to my current state. I’m sitting in my office, with the lights off, and my head on my desk. I have such a headache and it’s not from the alcohol. Although, I’m sure the alcohol doesn’t exactly help. I came into work today to do something. I think it had to do with the possibility of droughts this summer throughout the US farmlands.

Whatever.

Who needs wheat and vegetables when you can’t have Donna?

“Josh?”

I look up to see Donna standing at the door. The office is almost completely dark and there’s little light coming from the bullpen. Just enough light that it shines over her face and hair. Oh, and her purple turtleneck. Eddie helped her pick it out. And did I mention he was in her bedroom when she was changing? Well, he was. I was out on a couch, hanging with the Gummi Bears, and almost naked Eddie was watching completely naked Donna.

NINCOMPOOP.

“What’s up, Donna?”

“I was just wondering if I could go? It’s almost five.”

“Yeah, I guess you can go.” I’m not even going to ask where she’s going. I’m sure I don’t want to know.

“Good, Eddie and I are going to Victoria’s Secret.”

See, told you I didn’t want to know. “Victoria’s Secret?” I somehow managed to spit that one out.

“Uh-huh,” she steps into the office and her face is no longer visible, “Eddie loves the lingerie. Plus they have those really big dressing rooms. I’m hoping we can –“

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Pulling my fingernails out, one by one, in attempt to numb the pain. “Oh, nothing much.”

“If you want, you can come over. Eddie and I are going to rent a movie after our little trip to Victoria’s Secret.”

“You know, I think I’m gonna skip that.” But thanks for ripping my heart out. “But thanks for the offer.”

“You sure,” she walks forward and stands at the other side of my desk, “I was thinking about getting Italian pastries. I know how much you love those.”

I can’t explain how happy I am right now that my office is unlit. I must be a shade of red that Crayola couldn’t even match. “Pastries?”

“Yeah, you know, cannolis, armarettis, cantuccis. Just your basic. . . . dessert.”

“You know,” I say, standing up from my seat way too fast. Not the best move for a person with headache like mine. “I’m thinking Eddie’s really big on dessert.”

“Oh, he is. We eat them in bed and he says really nice things to me in Italian.”

He does? Not that I want to know. You know, what the hell? This couldn’t possibly get any worse. “Like what?”

“Now, Josh, I can’t tell you everything. There are certain things we keep private. Although, he called me this really sweet thing last night.”

I turn around and face the wall. This cannot possibly be happening. “What did he say?”

“Well, he said all these really nice things about me. He went on about what I mean to him and how long he’s cared about me. Which is funny since I’ve only known him for, like, two days.” She’s now walked over to my side of the desk. “Then he just kept on calling me ‘Bella.’”

Bella? Bella? Oh sweet Jesus. You know that moment you have they day after you drink where you remember everything? Like you’ve been completely brainwashed for hours and then seeing one little thing or hearing one word that makes you remember everything?

I definitely just had that moment.

I’ve just been had.

“Bella?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Bella. . . . .like Bella Donnatella?”

“Yep, isn’t that sweet?”

“Well, actually, it’s a bit corny. I’d excuse such a comment if someone were, you know, really drunk. Maybe after a lot of wine and a shot of tequila.”

In the complete darkness of the room I can tell Donna is smiling.

“Donna, why are you grinning like that?”

“I dunno. . . . .I smile a lot these days.”

“Maybe it’s from Eddie and his sensitive body parts.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’d have to ask Colleen about that.”

“Colleen?”

She nods. “My roommate. Eddie’s. . . . . I dunno. . . . .Eddie’s master.”

“You roommate? You mean that one with all those piercings and that weird dog collar she always wears. Her and the Ken doll. . . .”

“He does not look like a Ken doll.”

“He has the brains of one.”

“Leave Eddie alone. He’s a nice guy with excellent clothes coordinating skills. So. . . .yes. . . .Eddie is Colleen’s little friend who I met the other morning. And you,” she pokes me in the arm, “are a complete jealous idiot.”

“I prefer the term nincompoop.”

“Nincompoop?”

“Yeah, you want Sam to spell it for you?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay. . .”

We sit in the darkness for a few moments and neither of us says anything. At this moment, she could be either making fun of my complete stupidity, or my ability to become insanely jealous of every Baywatch look-alike that comes into her life.

She finally breaks the silence. “You remember everything?”

“I think,”

“Then thanks.”

I look over at her. “For what?”

“Everything you said about me.”

“You’re not talking about the dessert part, are you?”

She laughs. “No, but we could possibly arrange that some time.”

“Really?” Okay, I might have just squeaked that.

“Yes. . . . .but only if you stay away from the alcohol.”

“Oh, I’m never touching alcohol again.”

“Everybody says that the day of a hangover.”

“Okay, maybe I won’t totally give it up. But definitely no more tequila.”

“What ever possessed you to do a tequila shot?”

“I dunno. Mario told me real men drink tequila. He was Italian, tall, and had a deep voice. I believed him.”

“So, some tall ambassador from Italy, named Mario, comes along and tells you that the best thing do regarding Italy is to lift all taxes on goods imported from the US. Do you do it?”

“Possibly, if he offered me free liquor.”

“You’re so incorrigible.”

“Part of the charm. . . .and Donna?”

“Yep?”

“Everything I said was the truth. And don’t ask me to repeat it because I don’t think I can do it again with the slurred words.”

“That’s okay. You sure you remember everything?”

“Oh yeah, liquor, embarrassing myself with comments regarding dessert, being carried up a flight of stairs –“

“Four flight.”

“Being carried up four flights of stairs, and being put to bed. Although, I did really enjoy the part where you kinda undressed me. Many thanks for that.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t remember falling asleep?”

“Well, I don’t usually remember falling asleep on normal days. Load me up with booze and I remember nothing.”

She stands up and turns to leave. “Okay then.”

“Donna?”

“Goodnight, Josh.” She starts to walk off.

“Donna,” I grab her by the wrist. Okay, so I kinda remember doing that last night, too.

She looks down to where her wrist and my hand are joined. “Yeah, Josh?”

“What happened?”

She smiles “I think it’s coming back to you now.”

“You’re going to have to refresh my memory.”

“I don’t know if you deserve that, tequila boy.”

“I slept on a couch with a little girl’s blanket on me, I have a headache the size of Texas, and I spent the day with you messing with my mind and making me thing you were shacking up with Pauly Shore’s long lost brother. And, by the way, the fake phone call?”

“Yeah?”

“Nice touch.”

“Thanks.”

“So, you totally fooled me. Josh Lyman is a complete idiot and got tricked by Donna Moss. Now I deserve something.”

She’s silent. She’s thinking about it. This has got to be a good sign. “Okay. . . . close your eyes.”

Close my eyes? “This isn’t something that really shouldn’t be preformed in the offices of the White House, is it?”

“Josh, if you don’t want me to do this I could ju –“

“No, I wasn’t saying not to do it. I was just inquiring as to –“

“Josh, close you eyes.”

They’re shut before she can finish the sentence. Something about a demanding Donna that I just really like. She does nothing for a few painful moments and I start to think this is my payback for last night. She’s gonna just be a tease and leave me here. However, I can feel her breath against the skin of my neck and I definitely know she’s still there. I can barely feel her lips brush against the left side of my neck. Truthfully, I think that’s it. But then I feel her lips press a bit harder against the right side of my neck. She sucks lightly against the skin and I’m pretty sure I could die now and go off to tequila heaven. She lifts her lips from my neck and I think I actually groan. I start to open my eyes.

“Close your eyes, Josh.”

I’m definitely into this taking orders thing. Especially if there’s more of what she just did involved. She gives me a kiss on the mouth. It’s light, simple, and there’s no major movement or tongue involved. However, it’s quite possible my legs may give out in a moment. I lean forward a bit to progress things and she pulls back.

“Uh-uh, Joshua,” she whispers.

”You’re a tease,” I whisper back with my eyes still closed.

“And you,” she says, tapping her hands against my chest, “are a lush.” I can feel her breath by the side of my face again as she whispers into my ear, “goodnight, Joshua.”

I open my eyes to see her already nearing the door. “Goodnight. . . .”

She stops, but doesn’t even bother to turn around. “You can say it, Josh.”

“Goodnight. . . . .”

“C’mon. . . .”

“Goodnight, Bella.”

She laughs and mumbles, “I love that,” and walks away.

Yeah, I think I might love that, too.