While she does that, I allow my eyes to take in her entire frame. Although the Jinny Kidwell before me is very close to how she appears on the big screen, I realize the camera has never properly captured her perfect skin, upon which there are no blemishes, wrinkles, or marks of any kind. No freckles or moles on her face, arms or legs that I can see.

Speaking of her legs, they are jaw-droppingly perfect. Impossibly long, and toned to a degree that stops just short of being muscular, these legs draw you in and hold your gaze like Medusa’s head.

“Are you okay?” she says.

I force my eyes upward. She’s smiling coyly. What must her lips and tongue taste like? Before Lissie came into my life, all my sexual conquests smelled the same: like closing time at the local bar.

I put it all out there: “I’m old, fat, broke and ugly.”

She smiled. “You’re not so old.”

“Compared to you, I’m a dinosaur. I’m a complete nobody. I’m lousy in bed, and…”

“And you’re married,” she says.

I’m stunned. “You knew?”

“You’re married to Lissie. She’s very pretty.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“I’ve seen a photo.”

I don’t know what to say. Nothing makes sense.

“I’m married too,” she says.

“You are?”

She looks at me curiously. “You sure you’re a fan?”

“I know you through your movies.”

She nods.

Despite the absurdity of my presence, I love being here, love knowing that Jinny Kidwell is sitting a mere six feet in front of me. I love her attention, love exchanging words with her, love looking at her.

But this is crazy.

“Jinny,” I say, then shake my head thinking how ridiculous her name sounds coming out of my mouth.

She waits expectantly.

“Is it okay to call you Jinny?”

She looks at me as if I might be crazy. She’s right. I’m in her trailer, been told I’m here to have sex with her, asking if I can call her by her name. I start over.

“Did they tell you why I’m here?”

She blushes.

I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to Jinny Kidwell, making her blush like a coed. She bites the corner of her bottom lip nervously.

And stands.

She’s wearing—I now notice—a leopard print mini skirt and a black (she told me later) Ferretti silk tee, with a jeweled, sunburst print. I can’t remember the style and pedigree of her sandals, but they were lovingly crafted by some premier designer exclusively for her.

She says, “Buddy, I don’t know if I can make you understand this from my point of view, but in my whole life I’ve only been intimate with three men. I may seem like a household name to you, but the truth is I’ve only been a mega star for a year. Like you, I made a wish.”

Every time she opens her mouth, I’m stunned by the words that emerge.

“You made a wish to be famous?”

She nods.

“And they somehow granted it?”

“They did.”

“Who are these people?”

“I’ll tell you this much: I’ve been given the opportunity of a lifetime, and it’s good karma to give back. My wish was very important to me, and yours is very flattering.”

“Flattering?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“They told me your number one wish was to be intimate with me. Is that not true?”

“Yes, it’s true, but—”

“—Out of every wish you could have made, this is the first thing that came to your mind. Can you not understand how amazing a compliment that is to me?”

“Yes, but—”

“But?”

“You’re married,” I say.

“As you are.”

“Yes.”

“And two hours from now, when you leave, we’ll still be married.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just stare at her mouth, wondering how the mere act of speaking can appear so provocative.

“Buddy?”

“Yes?”

She removes her blouse and says, “I want this to be a very special afternoon for you.”

She’s not wearing a bra.

“I’m not super experienced,” she adds, “though to you I probably seem wild on the screen.”

Jinny Kidwell is standing in front of me, and she’s not wearing a bra.

She reaches behind her with both hands and I hear the sound of a zipper lowering. She does a sort of hip shake and her skirt slides to the floor, and…

…She’s not wearing panties.

She says, “All I ask is that you treat me with respect.”

“Huh?”

“With respect.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t do anything to hurt me.”

“Hurt you?”

She blushes again.

Then I blush.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 16

 

If I could have a fifth wish it might be that I’m the most amazing lover Jinny Kidwell has ever encountered.

But the truth is I’m unable to perform.

“This has never happened to me,” I say.

“Nor to me,” she says.

“I can’t do this to Lissie.”

“I believe you.”

“No, I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Buddy. I was just kidding.”

“Oh. Right.”

We’re sitting on her bed, and we’re both looking at the pathetic, drooping thing between my legs I used to call my “mighty sword.”

“He looks tired,” she says.

I wince.

“What’s the problem, do you think?”

I shrug. “I think maybe I’m just overwhelmed.”

She nods. Then, as if trying to enhance my mortification, she reaches over and pokes it with her finger. Then she lifts it with her thumb and index finger, holds it aloft a second, then lets it fall, and I want to crawl in a hole somewhere.

She frowns.