Live From New York

October 1, 2016

"Don't get too excited, there..."

Annabelle Hurley gave Malcolm Patterson a teasing elbow as he watched Margot Robbie step onto the Studio 8H stage to host the season premiere of "Saturday Night Live." She knew Malcolm would barely be able to contain himself.

"God, she's so beautiful," he gushed as Margot began her monologue, even turning the television up louder so he could hear all of her Australian accent. Malcolm had a goofy smile on his face, and Annabelle shook her head.

"You're such a mark, Mal."

"I know, I know," he whispered. "Are they all that hot in Dalby?"

"Yes," Annabelle replied. "There's a little factory in Darling Downs that cranks out little Margots every hour, on the hour."

"Cool, I should visit."

Annabelle chuckled. She looked at Malcolm's deep chocolate-brown eyes and realized he was completely lost in Margotworld.

"Saturday Night Live" went to a commercial, and Malcolm turned his gaze back to Annabelle.

"Nothing against the girls from Brisbane," he smiled.

"Thank you," she nodded.

"Did you know the first time I ever saw 'SNL' was when Nicole Kidman was on?"

"No. When was that?"

"It was 1993-I was 11 years old. It was the first time my parents let me stay up late to watch it-they were afraid I was gonna fall asleep in church the next day."

"Wow."

"Nicole was so fucking beautiful...and so funny, too. I didn't fall asleep the next day because I was daydreaming about her the whole day."

"I'm not surprised."

The commercial break ended, and Malcolm fell once again into a Margot-induced trance.

As he watched the next sketch in rapt attention, Annabelle began to lightly stroke his large hand. She loved the sensation of his smooth brown skin. She looked up at his face and smiled. She loved his firm, handsome features, his gorgeous closely-cropped black hair, his perfectly formed nose and lips. He was the definition of masculine beauty, she thought.

Another commercial break came, and Malcolm resumed his conversation.

"I still remember a couple of years later, when they had Elle Macpherson on. She was just...amazing. Even hotter than Nicole, and even funnier."

"I'm noticing a pattern."

"You do, don't you?"

They both laughed, as Annabelle caught their reflection in the window of their Manhattan apartment. Malcolm leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Don't worry, though. I think you're just as hot as both of them, if not hotter."

"But am I hotter than Margot?"

"Uh...let me think about that."

"Mal!" she cried, playfully slapping his muscular arm.

"My bad," he replied, stroking her long, light brown hair and staring into her bright blue eyes. "You're way hotter."

"Thank you."

"But I do love my Margot, though."

Annabelle shook her head again and smiled.

The commercials ended, and Malcolm's mind was again captured by the television. Annabelle drew closer to him, placing her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. She loved this moment, even if Malcolm's attention was momentarily elsewhere.

She looked again at their reflection in the window. She sighed quietly, feeling a sudden tinge of loneliness. The two of them weren't enough, she thought. They needed to be not just a couple, but a family.

They had always used protection when making love, but now Annabelle imagined what it would be like to make a baby or two or three with Malcolm-how it would feel to have his firm, full cock penetrate her with passionate purpose, what it would be like to experience the joys and aches of pregnancy and childbirth. She knew that their children would be beautiful and bright, and that they would be taught to be proud of having an American father of West Indian heritage, as well as an Australian mother of Irish, Scottish and English heritage. She knew their kids would laugh once they were told that their dad came from Queens and their mum came from Queensland. She knew they'd have the perfect little family.

Suddenly, she heard the television shut off.

"What happened?"

"I had to stop watching."

"Why?"

"I feel like I'm cheating on you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Malcolm rose from the couch.

"Look, Annabelle," he said, taking her pale hand. "Margot's great, but she's a fantasy. You're reality."

"Wow."

"Annabelle, I love you."

"I know, Mal. I love you, too."

"I know, but...I...really want to show it."

"What do you mean?"

Malcolm smiled.

"I think you know what I mean."

Annabelle's eyes lit up.

"Oh, wow."

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. It was 12:15 in the morning, and she felt an unusual sensation in the air. They slowly undressed in the dark, and she realized that he wasn't reaching for his Trojan Magnums, the way he usually did before they made love.

Malcolm seemed more aroused than ever before, and made love to Annabelle with a ferocious intensity. His fingers and tongue were all over her body. Not an inch of her frame was left without a kiss or touch. When he slipped inside of her, she began to swoon with lust. She couldn't wait until he came, and when he did, the room spun around.

Annabelle woke up the next morning and smiled at the sleeping lover next to her. She walked quietly to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, lightly touching her stomach. I know he did it, she thought to herself. I hope it's a girl; maybe we'll name her Margot. Margot Hurley-Patterson. It will be really funny when we tell her who she was named after...