“You’d be surprised. When I checked into my flight today, I walked right by two posters of me in my boxers. No one batted an eye.”
“Oh, hey.” A new edge entered her voice. “I’m glad you brought up those posters.” Mona was quiet for a moment, giving me the impression she was gathering her thoughts.
“Are you?” I prompted, a little worried.
“Can I have one?”
I choked, my eyes flying open. “What?”
“Can I have one of the posters?”
I sat up on the bench and immediately regretted it, my vision swimming, and had to lay back down again. “Uh, I guess?”
“Thank you! That’s excellent. Oh, and can it be one of the big ones? The life-sized ones?”
I laughed and I had no idea why I was laughing, maybe because this conversation felt hugely absurd. Maybe because I was insanely tired. Or maybe because she was so fricken cute.
“Mona, if you want a picture of me, I’ll send you one. You don’t need one from an advertising campaign.”
“You’ll send me a photo?”
“Yes.”
Another contemplative pause before she asked, “Will you be in your underwear?”
I barked a startled laugh, and then I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t breathe. She was also laughing, but it had an edge of self-consciousness, shyness.
“Fine, fine. You can wear clothes,” she conceded, sounding embarrassed.
“Now, wait a minute.” I wiped at the tears of hilarity, sobering slightly as an interesting proposition took shape. “Wait a minute. Of course, if you want sexy photos of me, I’ll send them.”
“Thank you, I do.” Now she sounded prim, official, like we’d just agreed I’d send her a contract, or I’d confirmed a conference call.
Even exhausted and fighting another yawn, I was grinning. Yes. Absolutely I would send her photos. I couldn’t wait to see her again in person. But if our prolonged separation meant that she’d be willing to send me pictures of herself? Well. That would definitely make the waiting more bearable.
“Here’s the deal. I’ll send you sexy photos, and then you’ll send me some photos too.”