Liz Lemon* Sex Dream

I am in a big Manhattan luxury loft, 20 foot ceilings, all beams and bricks and gorgeous hardwood floors, skylights with moon pouring through them like powdered sugar, huge bookshelves filled with first edition originals, Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator on a massive plasma TV screen with the sound turned down, Jobim on the fabulous state-of-the-art stereo, Brazilian happy/sad samba dancing around the room. And Liz Lemon is there with me. She’s in one of those little outfit she wears, really cute with just enough cleavage to be sexy but not slutty. Not that I have anything against slutty mind you. It’s just the line she seems to enjoy straddling between sex kitten and smart happening babe. She’s drinking some kind of white wine, and we’re talking about nothing really, thisandthat, just easy talk, but we’re cracking each other up, she’s really funny, and I’m really funny, we’re both really funny. We’re talking about how Bush and his horrible war suck; how crazy Jack Donaghy** is, how weird it was that he left his daughter that sick message, so angry, calling her a pig and everything, very disturbing; how Kenneth the page*** must be gay, I mean how could he not be, maybe we should do an intervention, find him a specialist who helps repressed Southern men come out their shells and closets; and how sad it is that Liz’s boyfriend moved to Cleveland. Then I tell her how pretty she is, and she sorta blushes, stammers and hems and haws. Totally adorable. Then I tell her I’m gonna give her the old Yawn Move. She laughs really hard and says, "Give me your best shot, big boy." So I do an elaborate caricature of a wannabe stud, stretching my arms out to either side and letting loose with a huge mock yawn, concluding with my hand draped around her shoulder. She cracks up again, and I think: this is clearly the way into this woman’s heart: keep her laughing loud and hard. She smuggles into me all intimate, practically a kitty purring in my lap. Then she looks at me, doing her own loverly mockery of a high school girl from the 50s as she asks me if I have any other cool moves. I look straight and deep into her eyes, put my index finger underneath her chin, and with a sincere look that’s so sincere it’s seriously silly, I say that I want her to know how much I respect her, that I respect all women, and that she is every woman in the world to me. She chuckles and heats up at the same time. I am madly turned on at this point, I think I may even be falling in love, I’m not totally sure about that, but I know I have a serious lust jones for Miss Liz Lemon. And I’ve made love to enough women to know that she’s right there with me. And yes, that is correct, I said made love. Not boned, or nailed, or shtupped. Made love. That’s what’s about to happen. Me and Liz Lemon are about to make love. Crazy animal jungle love, but love nonetheless. Then all of a sudden we don’t have any clothes on, we’re stark raving naked, and we’re kissing, and we’re rubbing up against each other, wrapped around each other, hands hot all over each other, skin sizzling, and the temperature in the room goes up about 100°, our hearts are racing pounding, you can actually hear them like a couple of bass drums playing along with Jobim. And she’s a really good kisser. I mean, seriously. And then we’re just about to Do It, me and Liz Lemon, who I watch on TV every week being so funny and quirky and oddly sexy. Then all of a sudden she stops. Cold. Right in the middle of everything. She looks at me very serious and naked. The mood is shattered. The vibe vanished. The ambience evaporated. "I can’t do this," she says, "I’m really sorry, I really like you, but I have to go." Then somehow she’s fully dressed, and she’s looking back at me, shrugging adorably, apologetically, as she walks towards the door. Then she’s gone. And I am left alone, holding my own, as Liz Lemon walks right out of my life.

*Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) is the main character on a TV show called 30 Rock. Ms. Fay is also creator and head writer of the show.
**Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) is her boss.
***Kenneth the page (Jack McBrayer) is a rather effeminate page.