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| CAST |
| Deanna... Christina Milian Cheryl/mother... Vanessa Williams Halle Berry.... herself Kisha.... Leila Arcieri |
| Marcus and his girlfriend, Deanna sat on the couch of her parents' living room, one day at the outset of December engaged in a lengthy french kiss. During the exchange, Marcus' hand moved from Deanna's waist, to her ass, down to her calf and finally around her ankle, at which point he pulled her leg up and onto his lap and touched his fingers to her bare sole, agitating the ball of her foot and slowly making his way down her arch. Deanna's giggling interrupted their kiss. "Marcus!" she squealed, curling her toes. "What?" said Marcus, continuing to finger her arch. "My toes!" she giggled "Quit it!" "Quit what?" "Quit tickling my feet." A punch in the chest from Deanna halted his tickling. "What's the problem?" he asked. "The problem is, my feet are ticklish." "You don't like it?" Deanna rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I think it's cute, but you do it too much." "Aw, that's impossible." "I think you got a fetish." "No I don't" "You do." "A fetish means that I can't perform sexual activities without the object of sed fetish being available to me. We've had sex countless times without me tickling you." "Not countless times." "Regardless, I don't got a fetish." "A-ight, you can't tickle my feet no more 'til after New Year's." "After New Year's?" "Is there a problem?" Deanna smiled. "What's the problem?" "Nah, It ain't no problem." Marcus paused and pulled at one of his brown curls. "I gotta go, though." Deanna frowned. "You gotta go? 'Cause I won't let you tickle me?" "It ain't got nothing to do with that," said Marcus, removing Deanna's leg from his lap and standing. "I got homework." "Oh. . . okay." Deanna looked sad. Marcus could tell that she didn't believe him, but he didn't care, because he was pissed. The nerve of her! |
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| Marcus returned to his house at a little past five. He entered the kitchen where his mom and ten-year old brother, Brian were sitting at the table. His mom was eating a salad, wearing a white tank top and a long multi-colored linen skirt. Her ankles were crossed under her chair, her bare feet free of her black satin slippers. Brian was intently scrawling on a sheet of paper. It looked to be a report of some sort. "Greetings, people," said Marcus, removing his backpack. |
| starring Halle Berry |
| (Deanna) |
| "What's up, Marcus?" said Brian, not looking up from his work. "Hey, Marcus," said his mom. "How was school?" "Ahh, school was school. Nothing spectacular about it. Marcus, what are you doing?" "Writing a letter to Santa." "Why?" laughed Marcus. "It's one here for you too," said Brian, sliding a sheet of paper towards Marcus. Marcus picked up the paper to observe it. It had red ribbon running down the edges and a cartoon Santa Claus in the upper right hand corner. "Where did you get this from?" "Mom got it from somewhere." "Mom, you brought me a letter for Santa?" "Not particularly, " she replied. "They were free, so I picked up more than one." "Go ahead and fill it out," urged Brian. "No." "Why not?" "'Cause . . . I'm too old for that . . . nonsense." "Go ahead, Marcus," said his mother. "Humor the kid. Geez." "Humour me? What's that mean?" Brian demanded. "Nothing, Brian," said his mother. "Fine, I'll write it out," said Marcus, taking a seat at the table. "Gimme that pen." |