Lee DeBourg is a humble scribe, having recently brought two novels to the Literary World. He does not think of himself as a writer: Writing is something he does at the margin.Having grown up on a family farm in the Midwestern USA, he acquired a degree in Sociology, then worked a series of techie jobs. He considers himself 15% choirboy and 15% outlaw. The other 70% is that of a quiet, hard-working guy, responsible and dignified. He possesses a head full of useless information and storehouse of insights gained over a few decades.Deciding to try his hand at creating fiction, he produced a debut entitled ConcurrentRelationships. He had so much fun in so doing that he immediately launched into a second, more involved effort entitleed Young, Only Once. Both works are now out in the literary world as of April 2014.
Learning how to downhill ski was on Hank Lawson’s to-do list. The opportunity to work as a bartender at a ski resort during his final year of college was the ticket.
The girlfriend held a differing view, given Snow Mountain’s reputation among the single’s crowd.
What could be the conflict? All Hank had to do was learn a new sport, a new job, and interact with new co-workers, fifteen college girls hired to staff the resort’s lounge during peak season, the Snow Girls…
Inside at brunch in the employee break room Sue Ellen was waiting in our corner. As I set two full plates down on the table I noticed she had an open notebook with ink pen in hand.
“What’s up?’ I asked.
“You’re going to help me.”
“What do you need?” I asked, settling in and beginning to dig in before the food turned cold.
“I am making extensive notes before I actually begin writing the Snow Mountain romance novel. You are a man…”
“You don’t miss a trick.”
“…and can help me with the male point of view. You owe me, considering you messed up my original plot. I’ve noticed you come up with unique phrases in normal conversation. An entire scene can be created with a unique phrase as the climax.”
“So you’re looking at me to provide climax.”
“I’m looking at you to pay attention and help me.”
“You want the ‘A’ material, extemporaneously, while I’m eating and before I’ve shaven.”
“It would appear so. Our first subject is Seduction. What goes through a man’s mind when he decides to seduce a woman?”
“Can’t help you there. I’ve never talked anyone into anything. They launched into proceedings of their own accord, scaring me to death.”
“Then forget your pathetic experience. What do most guys think?”
“Lowest common denominator. The path of least resistance. The less emotional monkey business the better. They search for gals with low self-esteem, and there are a large number of them. The classic cliché is the guy willing to directly ask twenty gals for sex. He expects to have his face slapped nineteen times. If one of the twenty says maybe, he deems the exercise a success.”
Sue Ellen scowled. “There’s virtually nothing romantic about what you just told me.”
“For a man, seduction is fraught with the potential for emotional violence. If he sets his sights too high, he gets swatted into the dust. If he sets his sights too low, he needs a large stick to beat away the riff-raff.”
Sue Ellen began tapping the notebook with her pen. “Let’s try a different tack. What does a man think as a woman is seducing him?”
“Lots of things, primarily that he is getting laid.”
“Precisely. He got lucky.”
“A man is only thinking about the sex?”
“What else would he be thinking about? I need context, detail to help you create a scene.”
“All right, there’s a certain tall blonde who, unfortunately, we both know too well. She’s invited a guy back to her chalet. As the scene unfolds, she’s starting to seduce him.”
“Recreational sex, or is she somewhat serious?”
“Keep it simple. He thinks she’s serious.”
“Ah, blind and stupid, like her previous five fiances.”
“Cindi has been engaged five times?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“The man enters her boudoir. The lighting is lousy, with flickering candles scattered around the room. The place reeks of an expensive and tawdry scent. She probably spilled the bottle ten minutes earlier. She alights from a darkened corner, the tall beauty queen. Her long blonde hair contrasts with her black silk negligee. The holely lingerie stretches to where the sun doesn’t shine, and around the corner as well. The man smacks his lips and thinks, ‘Woo-Hoo! Jackpot!’ “
Sue Ellen rolled her eyes. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
I shrugged. “ Jazz it up a little. ‘The man entered the boudoir, on a dark and stormy…’ “
“Shutup,” she said, slamming close her notebook. “Honestly, why do I encourage this?”
“Tell you what, Delicate Flower. Put together a seminar on Romance writing. When it’s ready to go on the road I’ll be your manager. I’ll book us on every cruise ship plying waters of the West Indies.”
“Do you really think we could stand each other?”
“It would work just fine so long as we don’t fall in love.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“I couldn’t imagine the seduction.”
“Frightening,” I agreed.
“Not to mention shameful and disgraceful.”
“Absurd to an extreme”
“You are so right.”
Matters settled, I returned to breakfast, Sue Ellen to pensive thought. Sharing brunch with Delicate Flower each morning was one of Snow Mountain’s great delights.
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