Writer’s Shop Talk: ‘Let Me Slip Into Something a Bit More…Comfortable’

Describe the outfit that your female lead is wearing the first time she undresses for your male lead:

Because Reunion: Coda’s first “sexy scene” takes place in Maddie’s shower, she doesn’t undress for Jim in front of him…she sneaks, already naked, into her bathroom and surprises our gallant protagonist while he’s taking what he thought would be a solo shower. But…to follow the writing exercise, this excerpt fits the exercise’s purpose. Enjoy!

The room has settled into a soft symphony of shadows and whispers as Maddie and I prepare for a night of innocent closeness. The Magnavox radio alarm clock on her nightstand reads 11:43 PM, its soft glow a silent sentinel in the modest bedroom that so clearly reflects Maddie’s essence. The walls, adorned with a framed poster of the New York Philharmonic concert where she had once shone, as well as photographs and English watercolors, seem to hum with the memory of music.

I’m standing there in modest boxers and a light blue Arrow shirt—a memento from Maddie’s father—feeling a blend of comfort and anticipation. My suit and Indy hat are neatly placed on a chair next to my place in the bed. In her pastel pink pajamas adorned with Winnie the Pooh on the top, Maddie exudes a subtle charm that is entirely her own. The scent of orange blossoms and jasmine lingers in the air, a signature fragrance that Maddie wears like an invisible crown of femininity.

The room, a cocoon of intimacy, is bathed in the dim light of a waxing crescent moon that peeks through the curtains, casting a gentle silver hue over everything. As Maddie moves, the soft rustle of fabric is like a gentle lullaby, promising a night of tranquil dreams. Instead of an open window, the whisper of the central heating provides a comforting backdrop to our evening, ensuring we stay warm despite the chill outside.

We climb onto the bed and slip under the covers, exchanging a glance across the gap between us.

“I don’t usually invite guys to sleep overnight, you know. I’m not that kind of woman… and I certainly don’t want to give Mrs. Benitez any material for her gossip-fest,” Maddie says, her chuckle rich and warm despite the weariness shadowing her features.

“I’m honored,” I respond, deeply moved by her confidence in me.

Maddie’s face carries a hint of regret as she speaks again, “I really didn’t mean what I said earlier in the car… about you not wanting to sleep with me tonight. It’s just that… I’ve wanted to make love to you ever since I went to London… was looking forward to it so much… and now I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Oh, Sweets. Don’t torture yourself about that. You’re a healthy adult woman with a healthy libido. And besides, I was looking forward to seeing you in – and out of – that Victoria’s Secret outfit that you were teasing me so mercilessly in your emails. But I am more concerned about your well-being than I am about making love with you tonight. Like I said before, we’ll have plenty of time for that – once you recover from the jet lag.” I assure her with a smile.

With a fluid motion, Maddie flicks on the lamp on her nightstand, bathing the room in a warm, amber light that softens the edges of the encroaching night. She opens the top drawer of her nightstand with practiced ease, retrieving a well-worn hairbrush. Sitting up on her side of the bed, she runs the brush through her hair, the bristles gliding with a familiar rhythm, each stroke reflecting years of quiet nights and contemplative moments before sleep. Her movements are swift, almost mechanical, a nightly ritual performed with an air of absent-minded proficiency.

As the early spring night whispers its lullaby, Maddie puts her hairbrush back into the drawer, then reaches out to the lamp, her fingers gently coaxing it off. The room succumbs to darkness, save for the city lights and silvery moonbeams that dance faintly through the window. She turns to me, her lips meeting mine in a chaste and tender kiss, a silent promise of affection and shared tomorrows.

“Good night, my dear Professor,” she murmurs, her voice a soft caress in the quiet room. “Thanks for fetching me at JFK…and for that scrumptious dinner. I do love you so.”

With those heartfelt words, she hugs me close, her body a gentle haven against the night, and almost immediately falls asleep. In the embrace of her arms, I feel the rhythm of her gentle snores, a soothing counterpoint to the heartbeat of the city outside. And in that moment, all is right in our little corner of the world.