Miss November

Lenny Spodnik was relatively certain that sex was everything. Of course, he rarely had an opportunity to put this theory into practice, but if the chance ever arose, Lenny was certain that he would prove himself a sexual dynamo. In fact, Lenny couldn't even imagine why he never could find the perfect woman. All the jerks in the world who have women all over them, Lenny thought, and I can't get even one!

In the meantime, Lenny dreamed. And dreamed. He sent a photo of himself (and a fairly witty ad) to a local singles' magazine, imagining that the replies would storm in. He spent most of his spare time at the local singles bar, waiting for that one night when the cosmos would be in harmony and Ms. Right would come along. The only people Lenny ever encountered through these social avenues, though, were people just as desperate as he, who had little to offer Lenny except their desperation. Darn my bad luck, he thought.

While Lenny waited for the cosmos to get in step, he periodically thumbed through old issues of his favorite girlie magazine. He had been nuts over this periodical, ever since an old edition that his dad had left lying around caught his eye. In fact, it was that one edition of his dad's that was the impetus for Lenny's vast fantasy life. Lenny had taken one look at this centerfold (the year having long since been torn away) named Janet, and Lenny succumbed forever to the wild call of his glands.

Janet, Lenny felt, was surely the encapsulation of his every wish in a woman. From her flowing blonde hair, to her fully rounded bosom, right down to her finely painted toenails, Lenny regarded her as everything he could possibly ask for. In fact, Lenny sometimes regarded Janet's image as a curse to him, since no woman could possibly lip up to his expectations unless she matched the perfection of [sigh] Janet.

One night Lenny sat hunched over a bar, when a woman walked in and sat directly across from him at the other end of the bar. Lenny sullenly looked uip from his beer and did a double take. The combination of the bar's dim lighting and the beer's numbing effects must have been playing with his mind. Because that woman who was sitting across from him looked exactly like... And she seemed to be smiling -- at him! Lenny felt himself heading off the deep end until he made a sharp right turn back to reality. Sure, Lenny, he thought to himself -- an old Miss November has nothing better to do than drop in at a seedy bar and make time with you, of all people. Better get a grip on yourself.

Lenny marched over to a video game, sat down, and deposited a quarter, proud of himself for regaining control. He quickly got involved with the game -- until he looked up and saw the blonde across from him. "Mind if I watch?" she asked.

Lenny wasn't sure what was more entrancing -- the trail of blonde hair or the infinite cleavage. The war plane on Lenny's video game quickly tailspun and never regained its former power. The woman laughed at Lenny's awe and invited him to sit with her. Lenny simply nodded his head and trailed behind her, his tongue too far down his throat to form the right words.

They talked for a couple of hours, though it took Lenny quite some time to regain his powers of conversation. He was simply stunned that this gorgeous creature was interested in anything he had to say. And now that she was up close, she looked even more like... Aw, forget it.

Finally, the bar was about to close, and they had to get ready to leave. The woman asked if he'd like to stop by her place for a while, and Lenny quickly put his hormones on stand-by as he said yes.

"You know," the woman said, "we've been talking all this time, and I've not even thought to ask your name."

"Uh, Lenny. And yours?"

"Janet."

Lenny was certain he felt his brain go plop into his beer.

Everything after that was a total blackout, until Lenny woke up and found himself nuzzling Janet's right breast. Then Lenny's memory returned, and a huge smile floated across his face. Lenny pulled back a bit and surveyed Janet's extraordinary physique. Sheer perfection, he thought. If this isn't Miss November, then she's still close enough to suit me.

In fact, Lenny was so entranced by Janet's luscious form that he failed to notice two seeminly trivial, yet not inconspicuous defects. Janet's body possessed two staple marks, one just above her chest, the other a couple of inches below her navel.

Lenny couldn't help thinking that perhaps she really was Miss November, come to brighten up his life. But he couldn't broach the question to Janet, for fear that she'd label him a lunatic and drop him on the spot. At least she's consented to see me again, Lenny thought. Best to leave well enough alone.

Janet and Lenny agreed that they would take in a movie that evening, after which they would stop in at the bar, followed by a mutual agreement to unite in Lenny's boudoir and hump each other's brains out. So that Lenny would not appear a total lech, he decided to remove his framed centerfold of Miss November from its usual perch above his bed. Due to some loose carpeting, however, Lenny tripped and fell after he removed the picture. Lenny was only slightly stunned, but the frame had acquired a crack at its center. Oh well, Lenny wasn't going to keep it in plain sight anyway, so it wouldn't need immediate replacing.

That night, Janet came to the door in a spaghetti-strap gown wrapped as tightly as a tourniquet. As Janet sashayed towards the car, Lenny imagined Janet trying to squeeze her wriggling form into that dress, a task he likened to forcing Jell-O into a Baggie.

As Lenny drove off, he told Janet how marvelous he looked. "Thanks," she said. "You know, I had really wanted to wear something more casual tonight, like a halter-top. But this afternoon, I was puttering around my apartment, and somehow I got this huge cut across my stomach. It felt like broken glass, but afterwards I looked around, and I didn't find anything that could have cut me. But it really killed me. I wasn't sure I'd be able to go out tonight."

A quizzical look swept over Lenny's face. He told Janet how glad he was that the injury had not affected their evening together. But all through the movie they went to, he kept thinking about the strange mishap and connecting it with his own accident with the frame.

Later in the evening, Janet and Lenny entered the bar and all heads turned. They sat at a table and tried to ignore the attention. A few burly men walked over to Janet's table to suggest that perhaps she could have a better time with them. Janet seized Lenny's hand and said she was quite happy with her present companion. Lenny was a bit flustered at the men but hardly surprised, given Janet's overwhelming beauty.

What did surprise Lenny was the number of women who came over and propositioned him. Apparently they had decided that Janet must be on to something. Lenny also turned them down, but not before he had been swathed in Essence Of Ego. Twenty-two years of nothing, Lenny thought, and now this!

Once again Janet and Lenny found ecstasy in each other's arms, and again Lenny woke up smiling. Then he remembered Janet's cut. It seemed crazy, but... Stealthily he got up, went to his chest of drawers, and pulled out his framed centerfold. He looked at it, then looked at Janet, then back at the frame. The cut seemed to be in the same place along Janet's body as it was along the framed centerfold. But how in the world could...

"What are you doing, sweetie?" inquired a groggy voice.

"What? Oh, uh, nothing," stuttered Lenny to an awakening Janet. "I was just looking at an old photo of mine. Nothing important." Unthinkingly, he flung it out an open window, where it beaned a dog who was making a surprise deposit on Lenny's lawn.

"Ooh, I suddenly got such a headache," Janet moaned.

That morning, he kissed Janet goodbye and waved as she drove off. Then he quickly searched the lawn for the centerfold he had discarded. He found the photo, but not before stepping in the dog's gift.

Inside, he washed himself off and contemplated the centerfold. All these things happening to the centerfold and then to Janet. It had to be some crazy coincidence. but still... Lenny couldn't resist a final test. He gingerly removed the photo from the frame and, with a black marking pen, he drew a medium-sized dot resembling a birthmark on Miss November's left thigh.

That evening, Lenny met Janet. "You know, weird things are happening to me lately. I found a big black mark on my thigh this morning," Janet said. "I thought maybe it was a sign of some disease, but my doctor checked me over and said I was in perfect health. He must really think I'm a case these days." Lenny smirked.

Back at his apartment, Lenny kept Janet waiting briefly as he rushed into the bedroom and slammed the door. Grinning over the centerfold, he ran a steady finger along the outline of Miss November's body. Then he put the photo away, nonchalantly strolled back into the front room, and was fairly pounced upon by Janet.

Alas, it was to be the last truly satisfying night of sex they would have together. As the weeks wore on, the novelty of sex with Janet simply wore thin for Lenny. It began to seem as though they had nothing in common. Lenny, a college graduate, quickly grew tired of Janet's modest conversation. And now whenever they went into the bar, Lenny was no longer so eager to dismiss the comely beauties who vied for his attention. Why settle for just one, Lenny thought, when all this variety awaits me?

Janet, on the other hand, had grown increasingly fond of Lenny, and a look of desperation clouded her face whenever one of these women approached Lenny. Sure, she could probaby have nearly anyone she wanted, too, but she had fallen in love with a seemingly modest man -- modest until now, anyway. What, she wanted to know, had happened to the Lenny she once knew?

What, indeed? Previous memories of lonely nights dismissed themselves from Lenny's mind, as he contemplated many women's offers to be bathed in precious oils. This clinging Janet was getting to be quite a burden on him. Just how could he get rid of her for good?

But of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? As he sat alone one afternoon, the answer came to him in a flash. He quickly removed the centerfold from its frame and then pulled a butane lighter from his pocket. He took one last look at the memories of so many years of fantasies (not to mention the last few weeks) that were about to turn into ash.

The lighter clicked. And clicked. And clicked. These damn disposable lighters, Lenny thought -- why now, of all times? Suddenly he felt a strange sensation in his feet, as though they were falling asleep. Then a fierce pain moved up his entire body. Lenny screamed before he disintegrated into ash.

In his afterlife, Lenny must surely have rued the day that he had sent his photo into the singles magazine to which Janet subscribed -- just as much as he surely hated her for draining the butaned liquid from his lighter into hers. All's fair in love and war, Janet reasoned.