I’m just gonna send the guy this video like it’s office training material. Except the office is my body, and “You bettah WORK.” (Ahem. I apologize for that.)
If Scott Foley ever grabbed my hair and put his mouth on that part of my neck, we wouldn’t have even made it into the apartment — I would have just pulled up the dress and ridden him like we were in the Hallway Tour de France. And I’m not ashamed to admit that watching him do…THAT to Olivia, even just for a tragically fleeting moment, produced an actual tingle. Kerry Washington gives great sex face.
Don’t judge me, we all have our deal. Mine just happens to involve being occasionally slapped on the ass with a fashionable leather glove by a trained assassin. Whatevs.
I may or may not be spending my Friday night still sick, eating sushi, and watching Olivia and Fitz have sex for the first time.
Yes, AGAIN. Shut up. There’s the “Take off your clothes” and the pushing against surfaces, and Olivia’s amazing lingerie and her little whimper… Don’t judge me. (And don’t worry, the Jake scene is next!)
We’ve already established that I’m an odd woman. I’m not that into flowers, I don’t wear a lot of jewelry, and I’m picky about candy. (Especially Whitman’s samplers — seriously, how the everloving fuck are those still around?) And we’ve discussed the giant, mutant teddy bear.
Basically, all that shit they try to sell men on Valentine’s Day, I want no part of. I don’t know many women who do.
But this is a Valentine’s gift I can get behind. And one that will get you behind me. I’m always cold, especially with this clusterfuck of a Northeast winter we’ve been having. I love blankets, I love words, and, theoretically, I’d love you. I’d be wrapped in your love! I’d always have your love to keep me warm! Cheesy? Certainly. But I’d melt faster than low-end chocolate for that shit. Don’t judge me.