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Je veux être la fille avec la plupart de gâteau. Regardez-moi dans la glace.
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21 May 2006


You Meet The Nicest People In Your Dreams

Read Madeline in the Mirror at madelineinthemirror dot blogspot dot com.

For our second-ever online date, Jefferson and I chatted via Instant Messenger while listening to The Big Broadcast. He was in New York, I listened online from my home in the heartland. It was February 13, 2005.

The show's theme was Songs of Harold Arlen, whose birthday it would have been that week.

I was excited to learn that Harold Arlen and I share a birthday and thankful that the man was so prolific a lyricist. Jefferson and I spent three hours chatting, interspersing personal anecdotes with the seamless trading of Arlen lyrics.

It was another Sunday evening in February, a year later.

As my potatoes boiled on the stove, Jefferson and I simmered on the couch. I sat in his lap, straddling his legs and making out. The music was mellow, the company was sweet and fixing to make me fried chicken.

We kissed, smiled and kissed some more.

Eventually my top came off and I was in a black mesh bra and jeans.

"Very nice," he remarked.

"Thank you."

He pushed my breasts together and sucked my left nipple through the fabric. I imagined the texture of the mesh against his tongue and lips as they slid across it and closed around my nipple. I swallowed, watching the top of his head, petting his hair.

He sucked, rolled, licked and then bit down on my nipple, softly at first, then harder, all the while looking up at me. I closed my eyes and inhaled, ready for the flood.

It was building, spreading and burning all through my body. I whimpered, arching my back, wanting to press my cunt onto his thigh but resisting.

By the time he bit into my right nipple I was flying above pain. When he stopped I was totally ecstatic. We looked at each other and smiled. I laughed.

"Okay," he kissed me, "I have an idea."

He led me to the computer desk and sat on the footstool next to my pilates ball.

"Let's send Rich Conaty an email."

I grinned stupidly, "You want to make a request? Maybe "I've Got the World on a String?"

"I'm sittin' on a rainbow, got that string around my finger, what a world, what a life, I'm in love..."

"And you want me to type coherently after what you just did to me?"

"Yes, I'll dictate."

We began.

Dear Rich,
The Big Broadcast is a Sunday tradition for us. We often listen together, though we are far apart. Madeline listens online in the Midwest, and Jefferson listens to the radio in Manhattan.
Tonight we are listening together in Madeline's apartment, frying chicken and making love. Having you with us makes the evening complete.
Jefferson and Madeline

Half an hour later, while setting the table I heard a "Hah! Come here!"

I read the email from our host:

Madeline and Jefferson,
It's nice to know when people are listening; thanks for making me part of your evening.

I smiled. I mashed potatoes. We ate by candlelight.

It was damn good fried chicken.

He brought the duvet to the futon and I lay beside him while he read. As he stroked and petted my head, I fell asleep. Later he turned out the lights and kissed me awake, leading me into the bedroom and pulling the covers over us both.

This is what I miss. This is what I love.


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