Angie & Ella's First Novel :: Sliptongue Magazine

Excerpt from Chapter III, OFFICE RESCUE & THE NIGHTIE SHRED AND TIE-UP GAME, of the first Angie & Ella Epistolary Novel

by Robert Scott Leyse

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(Angie and Ella are second year associates at a midtown Manhattan law firm. They are fast friends and fond of reliving their escapades, as well as concocting new ones, via email. Angie is 5' 7" and has wavy chestnut hair. Her brown eyes easily flare with emotion, and she has a reputation for being somewhat excitable. Ella is 5' 5" and has raven black hair. Her blue eyes easily flood with silver light, and she has a reputation for being somewhat adventurous. Both, on account of their beauty of face and shapeliness of figure, routinely attract lingering glances.)

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Angie to Ella
Sent: Wednesday, July 2, 2003 11:24 AM

So how come I haven't heard from you, neglectful girl? A Stevie night's always a thrill-ride, so I'm ablaze with curiosity to hear of it! Plus I desperately need some recreational reading to offset this due diligence index confirmation crap that the incompetence of fools has thrust upon me! It's such a bore, making sure all the documents are accounted for, double-checking the paralegals! Rikert's having me do it because he wants it done right, once and for all, so the client doesn't start screaming about the time billed. It seems that absolute worst of paralegals (What's her name: Sabine? Sabbatha? Sappy? She should've stayed in litigation!) got into the act and mislabeled stuff galore. Rikert's now DNUed her from any further involvement on any of his projects, but that's hardly any consolation as I clean up her mess! And right after my role in the gloriously successful (Oh, yes!) [____] closing that ought to have earned me a little respite!

Anyway, it would be very much appreciated if you could provide me with some morally uplifting entertainment: I need my faith restored, as regards the joyful aspect of life! I'm imploring, Sweetie: please soothe me with a fine adventure! Hurry and feed your poor due diligence flogged Angie an absorbing narrative!

Your,

VicariousThrillThirstyVamp

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Ella to Angie
Sent: Wednesday, July 2, 2003 11:42 AM

You're calling me a neglectful girl? Listen: I didn't have time to begin my account at home and get a jumpstart on it, as I ordinarily would, because Stevie stayed until we both had to leave for work. (We showered together and then he, as usual, insisted on lingering in the bathroom and watching me do my makeup and nail touch-ups and hair; and then the whole girl dress-up thing that entertains him so, from panties and stockings and perfume to earrings and bangles and barrette! Always the same reasons, right? He says he wants to see how a mystery's put together, be in on the whole girl arsenal of cosmetics, underthings, and clingy fabric! Says he needs a refresher course in hook-and-eye clasps, eyeliner wands, base application! Says it's up to me - because he showed me a good time, and I owe him - to rectify the shortcomings of his childhood education! Says he missed Mass on Sunday, and that watching me dress will be a substitute religious experience! Says his imagination's empty of stirring images and that he needs it filled! Says watching a girl primp herself for the upcoming day is enlightening, therapeutic, and dispenseful of emotional strength! Ha, is anything our Stevie says to be taken at face value?)

Anyway, quite a bit of my narrative's written because I've been very concientiously doing it since entering my office -- something made possible by the other side's taking forever to get back to us with their counter-comments on the [____] S-1. It's not ready to be sent but, as you're beleaguered by due diligence boredom, I'll indulge you -- despite the fact you've insulted me by assuming I'd allow my recollection-of-fun duties to slide if I could help it!

Here you go, Unjust Miss - as is:

Sweetheart! Again our Stevie promised and again he delivered! First, he arrives from Delancy Street plenty annoyed, barely even looks at me, and starts yelling along the lines of: "Goddamn love-lorn lunatic seamstress, simpering masochist! She couldn't stop blubbering about her boyfriend while making the final adjustments to the costume! She was so tearful on account of affection rejected that she let her finger wander under the needle and got stabbed, plus messed up some of the hem and had to do it over! And I have to put on a face of sympathy and assure her the guy's childish and stupid! -- taking care to strike a balance and not overdo the negative, because she loves him and he must therefore be worthy of such love! Christ! I loathe having to listen to crybaby relationship crap! And all because I needed this costume done! I hope you appreciate it!"

"I do appreciate it! You know I do!" I say, hastening to wrap my arms around his neck and soothe with a kiss.

But Stevie pushes me away and resumes with more vehemence, still somewhat glaze-eyed and as if barely aware of me: "It's so demoralizing when some ninny decides she's been trampled on by a man and subjects me to a full recitation of how ghastly it makes her feel! Same with men who whine! Male or female, same difference! When they're of a mind to wallow in self-pity on account of love gone sour, they're the most insufferable idiots on the face of the earth! The seamstress is listing her ills and cursing out one Tyler and seeking to draw me into it! I'm only there to pick up this costume she was supposed to have ready by seven, right? Despite the annoyance of waiting I'm in a wonderful mood, because I have plenty to look forward to! And she's instantly jealous and resentful of my good cheer, giving me a clinging parasitical look, bewailing her situation with increased fervor! Her demeanor and tone of voice is saying: 'So you see, you've no right to be happy, because I'm not! You've no right to be looking forward to a blissful night with your girl, because my man's dumped me and I'm in hell! You've no right to believe in joy in another's arms, because all I've gotten from it is misery!' That's what the seamstress is saying to me between the lines and, try as I might, I can't stop it from affecting me! The moment she finished the costume, I fled as if from the maw of hell! And her clinging eyes are still gleaming in my head! Self-pitying killjoy! What a menace! It was like she was doing her best to put a curse on our night!"

"I think it's safe to say we're immune from curses, Stevie!" I laugh, again seeking to slip my tongue inside his mouth and kick start our night. I want him to shut up, forget the simpering seamstress, and pay tribute to my hot lil' tramp's body that's gift-wrapped in my fur-fringed pink nightie! I know he likes the wrapping and I know he likes what's inside the wrapping, and I'm not going to be pushed away again! He tries it and I seize the offending push-away hand and reach up his arm and hold on tight; soon my tongue's in one of his ears, flicking as I coo sweetness... Oh, he likes it -- he adores the ear-tickle stuff -- always gets scrunchy with delight real quick, like he can't help it! If only he'd clasp me close and start kissing me!

But Stevie's being very contrary tonight; he twists his head away, seizes my wrists, says: "Stop trying to draw me into sappy cuddling and cast a veil over the image that troubles me! Yes, it's the resentful eyes of the seamstress! They're still ablaze in my mind's eye, poisoning these moments! Regardless of whether I want to be, I'm haunted by the thought of love's casualties! Which means that we're going to need to do an awful lot tonight to make the nasty spectacle of love's emotional wreckage depart from my head! I'm going to need a lot of help to step back into the light of love's bliss! Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," I answer, delight swelling in my veins. Is my moment nigh? Will I soon be sighing to the tune of Stevie's lips upon mine? Will his hands soon be conducting explorations of my caress craving curves? Damn! He's still gripping my wrists and holding me away - still being difficult! Why won't he pull me close, open the sluice of the dam behind which desire churns, have his way with me?

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