You raise an eyebrow at me speculatively. 'Really?' you enquire your voice full of sarcasm. 'Respect me how Jenna? By choosing not to spend any time with me? By not even bothering to let me know where you are? By rolling in when you feel like it? Well then... I think we need to redefine what we mean by respect Jenna, don't you?
Gabby, ' Jenna cried. 'It's so horrible. I can't believe this happened.' 'Jenna, ' I said in a soothing voice, 'I'm alive and okay. No worries.' She sniffled into the phone. 'No, it's not that.' I waited a beat. 'What?' 'The bridesmaid dresses are all wrong!' she wailed. 'Wait a second, ' I said. 'You aren't upset over my being dead for four days?' 'I knew you'd be fine, ' she explained, brushing off the subject. 'But these dresses? I don't know what to do. They're the wrong color, and they're hideous!' She went into a hysterical fit of tears.
Joseph, you're out of clean towels.' Lucia poked her head into the living room, the rest of her hidden behind the wall. Her red hair dripped water onto my wooden floors. 'She's in the buff.' Jenna guffawed. Gabriella rolled her eyes, beaming. I rose. 'Go back to the bathroom. I'll bring you a towel, ' I ordered Lucia. She disappeared down the hall. 'You have naked angels running around your house, ' Jenna continued through her laughter. Gabby laughed louder.
Jenna walked in between desks and plonked herself down behind hers, noticing AGAIN that the teacher hadn't graced the class with his zitty presence. She thought Mr. Kennan needed to get fired, which said a lot, because she rarely paid attention to ugly teachers. She'd discussed this with the principal two weeks back when she'd been sent to his office after getting caught sleeping. She'd told him that if he employed more hot teachers like Mr. Daniels then maybe she wouldn't pass out from boredom. The principal gave her a week's detention because of that comment, saying that she needed to take things more seriously. But she WAS being serious. Jenna Hamilton from Graffiti Heaven (Chapter 28).
Marita A. Hansen
Did you ever think she was your mate?' Lucas asked unable to help himself. Clyde tensed, seemingly caught off-guard by the question. 'I knew she wasn't mine, ' he said then exhaled. 'Angels don't mate, remember?' 'Then why did you make it so hard for her?' 'For her or for you?' 'For her. I couldn't care less how hard you made it for me.' 'Because I love her, ' Clyde responded simply. Lucas' jaw clenched then he exhaled, acknowledging that hearing another man admit he loved Jenna would never get easier. 'Not the way you do, but I love her. I wanted what was best for her. I thought you weren't it, ' Clyde added then turned to walk away. He paused and spun back around. 'One more thing. If you ever hurt her, I'll kill you.' Lucas let the fire in his heart fill his eyes. He would never hurt Jenna; they both knew it. 'I know. That's one of the reasons I haven't killed you myself.
I was at a Golden Globes after party and Channing f**king Tatum came up to me, and his stunning missus, Jenna Dewan. And they said, 'We call each other moon of my life and my sun and stars' and all that. I was like, 'I cannot contain this. Please, can we all have something sexual together? You're both beautiful. Even just a hug'.
It's weird how much things can change in only a few minutes. With those three words, 'I don't remember, ' our entire futures were changed. Not just for me and Brooklyn, but for the little girl, and Denver, and Jenna and Blaze and - darn, I'm getting ahead of myself again. So much for trying to be dramatic.
How can you be sure?" "I'm a doctor, Jenna. And a scientist." "Does that make you an authority on everything? What about a soul, Father? When you were so busy implanting all your neural chips, did you think about that? Did you snip my soul from my old body, too? Where did you put it? Show me! Where? Where in all this groundbreaking technology did you insert my soul?
Mary E. Pearson
It feels intensely twisted to see reigning industry queen Jenna Jameson chilling out at the Vivid booth in Jordaches and a latex bustier and to know already that she has a tattoo of a sundered valentine with the tagline Heart Breaker on her right buttock and a tiny hairless ole just left of her anus.
David Foster Wallace
No, I was never that kind of guy. I believed in true romance; one-night stands are always going to leave you feeling cold and empty. I was always looking for the real thing, romance, and all that. I love being married. I never liked the idea of going to bars and chasing girls. Some guys might enjoy that, but I always wanted to find that one special woman, which I did when I met Jenna.
The information. Every bit that of information that was ever in your brain. But the information is not the mind Jenna. That we've never accomplished before. What we've done with you is groundbreaking. We cracked the code. The mind is an energy that the brain produces. Think of a glass ball twirling on your fingertip. If it falls, it shatters into a million pieces. All the parts of a ball are still there, but it will never twirl with that force on your fingertip again. The brain is the same way.
Mary E. Pearson
I took a deep, overly exaggerated breath, the sort of over-the-top gesture that was filmed for commercials about scented laundry detergent, but in this case was my way of trying to absorb every molecule of my old normal life. I loved the smell of the living room, the kitchen, Jenna's recycling porch, the cupboards, and the basement laundry room. I loved everything, and it seemed to love me back. It was as if my heart had grown to three times its normal size, and it could now hold the specialness of every person who crossed my path; it could track how phenomenal every scent, sound, taste, or texture was. Everything was beautiful, even if it was just the laundry that I'd pulled out of the dryer, still warm, and hugged like a small, lost child.
You raise one eyebrow and regard me with another intense stare. 'Start by stripping please Jenna.' I hear what you say and yet on some level I can't quite process it. 'Strip?' I ask, as though I don't understand your demand. 'Yes, strip. Take off all of your clothes. I want to see you naked. Now please.' I feel dazed, yet I let my jacket fall to the floor, and start work on my shirt buttons. Your eyes never leave me. I can feel them mining into me whilst I tackle the third button. Why is this so weird? You're my husband after all. You've seen me undress and naked countless times. Yet this is different. I am not just undressing, I am stripping. It's not my decision; it's at your command. You are not just Oliver now; you're my Husband - some dominant entity now in charge. For some strange reason, I am finding it really hot! The look in your eyes is not just appreciative; it's carnal. Waves begin to rise in my pool of desire.