Oh, they've made it to bed several times, two outlined in all its sweaty detail, the others just suggested. And they've got one more time to go! Hot makeup sex!

Only...sixty pages left to write. In two days. Um, fear me?

Um, fear me?

You can do it - did you get your Black Moment sorted out? Because it did occur to me that as a working class London boy, well, I've known a few, two biblically, and I know where there pettiness can come from.

But if they've had hot sweaty makeup sex (on the floor of the restaurant, by any chance?) then I suspect he's already done a Bad Bad Thing and made up for it.

No one's really doing a Bad Thing -- they've got some communication issues at this point, and her own sudden and very uncharacteristic honesty is freaking her the fuck out. And he's been lying to her, only to protect her, but as a scrupulously honest guy, that's freaked *him* out, as in he's realized why people do that sometimes, and also how much he cares about her.

It's not a big Black Moment, but it's all I can do at this point. A lot of the book is (supposed to be) about honesty, including the reason for the murder, so it feels emotionally right to me. I can't do a big, unrealistic, melodramatic Black Moment because it just doesn't fit.

The restaurant, sadly, isn't finished yet, so they never got to have sex there. But now I'm wondering where they will have the makeup sex... Hmmm.

Actually, you've just described my favourite kind of black moment. I'd take that over the surrreal melodrama in a heartbeat.

Can't they have sex amid the construction? With the city shining in the windows, and the skyline, and shit?

Or you could maneuvre them over to the Trump...

Or you could maneuvre them over to the Trump...

Heh.

Can't they have sex amid the construction?

I'm thinking, yeah! There are a couple good reasons why either one of them would be up there, and that could be hot.

Also? My plan on Thursday (or Friday, depending on how wiped I am Thursday) is to download the new book (yours) to the laptop, and curl up and gorge myself on JP and Bree. So expect a shitload of feedback all in one fell swoop soonish.

I'm thinking, yeah! There are a couple good reasons why either one of them would be up there, and that could be hot.

Exactly. Nibbling her ear on the floor with chairs stacked in one corner and plaster dust everywhere, and rolling around and getting caught in a tarp, as if it was a blanket, with the Manhattan skyline out there. HOT.

Also? My plan on Thursday (or Friday, depending on how wiped I am Thursday) is to download the new book (yours) to the laptop, and curl up and gorge myself on JP and Bree. So expect a shitload of feedback all in one fell swoop soonish.

You'll find Bree a bit in the background in this one - it's scarily JP. In this one, the musician is completely to the fore - everything and everyone takes a back seat when he's in that headspace. I remember alternately resenting it and loving it, back in the day, but it's flooring me how right it feels to write him that way.

Star bubbles. Angel's breath. My mantra for this one. It's insanely intimate.

Ima guess 842 words is a bit over the top though; especially since this is a frothy one.

Gar, no idea what Teppy's take on it is, but at that length, I'd probably be inclined toward blogging it in my journal, providing a link, and adding a note upfront that this is not a drabble, it's short fiction, don't read if that's an issue, thank you, etc.

Right. Guess it's time to sign up for livejournal.

It's a good thing to have, Gar - even if you never use it for anything beyond short pieces of fiction or journalism, it's a useful tool.