"Reeeyullly, Jack," she said, drawing out the "really" like the Valley Girl that still lived inside her slender but reeyullythirtysomething body, "You can't stay for the lingerie party."Reeeyullly, Jack," she said, drawing out the "really" like the Valley Girl that still lived inside her slender but reeyullythirtysomething body, "You can't stay for the lingerie party. Go bowling with the boys or something...Naughty Nightie parties are for girls only." "C'mon," I protested, "I've been working every night this week, and I really wanted to just spend an evening relaxing at home...reeyully." "Really, Jack,"she said, easing off on the Valley intonation now.."How could you relax with a bunch of giggling, tittering women in the next room, even if you could stay here?" "Tittering? Now that does sound interesting" I teased. "Isn't that at least half, or more precisely, two-thirds of what naughty nighties are all about? And what makes you think I'd want to stay in the next room watching the tube, when I could join the tittering, watching the boobs?" "Bad puns will get you nowhere," she said, and countered with what she was sure was a one-hundred percent airtight put-off: "The only way you're going to stay for this party is if you're decked out like the Queen Mary." I paused as if I reeyully had to think this one over, looked stage left and stage right as if seeking counsel from two invisible advisors, and then let it go: "Okay. |