Red Is the Color of Page #4

of the wide-brimmed

red hat,

bobbing up and down,

up and down,

up and down.

You have some

imagination.

Don't you wanna

f*** me now?

Do I want to,

or am I going to?

Move your hand

to the left.

Show me where you want it.

Oh, uh-- I'm so sorry.

I-- I thought you weren't

painting today.

Did I-- Did I screw up?

- No.

I'll just leave this right here.

- Stay. Stay, please.

Uh, I'll get this

for you.

Julie, you can relax.

It's been a long session.

I'll get us

something to drink.

Oh, thanks, love.

So, uh, your--

What do you do in your clothed life?

You--

Were you an actress, or--

I mean, most of his models...

have been actresses

or-or-or models or--

I'm a grad student.

What are you studying?

Writing.

- Really?

- I'm writing a novel.

Oh, uh, about what?

Maybe about you.

Oh, that will be a very short

and dull novel, I'm afraid.

Somehow, I doubt that.

You didn't happen to...

- lose a pair of underwear recently--

- Red, right?

Uh-huh.

- How embarrassing.

I-- I'm sorry.

Where'd you find them?

Uh, under my bed.

Oh! See, I--

I'm not shy at all

about posing,

but when I first

started--

There's something so intimate

about dressing and undressing.

I hope you don't mind

I used your bedroom.

Oh, no. No.

That must have been weird-- finding a

strange woman's skivvies in your space.

Um, I'm gonna

go get them.

Here you go.

- Wow.

This deserves some tequila.

I'm sorry.

You'll have to go virgin.

It's a nice shade of red.

Oh. Thanks.

Thanks.

I think we should

get back to work.

I'm sorry.

Um, I'm going.

So how did you two meet?

Um, oh, we actually met right here. It's funny--

- Mary.

I'm sorry. I'm going.

- No, no, no. Please stay.

I-- I've always been fascinated by the

chance encounters that lead to love.

It's the utterly hopeless

romantic in me.

I wanna hear how

Mary and David met.

Please?

It's really not that terribly romantic.

I mean, uh--

Please?

Okay, uh-- I lived here first.

And I was moving out,

David was moving in,

and we kept...

bumping into each other,

mixing up

each other's boxes...

until we decided to simplify

and consolidate under one roof.

That's not exactly

how it was.

Oh, it's not, huh?

No.

It was her voice.

- Oh!

She doesn't want to hear that.

- No, I do.

I wanna hear

all the gory details.

She was late moving out--

- I'd gotten the days mixed up.

Yeah, and, uh,

the door was open,

and I was about to walk in

when I heard this voice.

I was on the phone, right?

- Mmm.

It sounded like a--

a bubbling brook.

You know, soft water

over hard rocks.

I kept asking myself,

"Where have I heard that voice?"

I knew this voice--

the rhythm of it, the tone,

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