Scene: two young loves, face to face in a hotel room in San Joaquin, Kansas. They sit facing each other on the bed, she in her pajamas. Him fully-clothed - just arrived.
She: "First, I'm going to kiss you."
He: "Yeah?"
She: "Yeah."
He: "How are you going to do it?"
She: "First I'm going to lean in and brush my lips with yours, then, our eyes catching just before we both close, my whole body leans in and I push you down, back onto the bed with my kiss. My kiss is just, going right through you and at first your shocked mouth is but a soft plaything for my lips..."
He: "Yeah?" "Then what do I do?"
She: "Then you kiss me back."
He: "Oh, yeah." "Yeah." "I would..." "...suddenly my mouth returns strength and purpose, and our kiss becomes a struggle of joined joys, tongues and lips and the occasional click of teeth as we greedily devour the love that blooms instantly and unendingly between us to be devoured..."
She: "Oh...!" "Yes,"
He: "...then I'd rip your clothes off of you, hectic and heedless but careful so as not to tear..."
She: "...am I wearing what I'm wearing now...?"
He: "...yes...!"
She: "...oh, yes! Do it! Rip my clothes off of me!"
He: "I have, and now I lavish my kiss's single minded attention all up and down your skin's warm, trembling..." "...uh....I was going to say, 'canvas', but that's not right..."
She: "Yeah. Kind of a mixed, not a mixed metaphor really since there wasn't a metaphor underway, but maybe...an unneeded metaphor?"
He: "Yeah, but then...'surface'? 'breadth'? 'compass'?"
She: "Oh! Yes! I like 'breadth'!"
He: "I lavish my kiss's attention all up and down your skin's quivering breadth..."
She: "Yes! That's it! Oh, I'm quivering, my breadth is quivering..."
He: "...and then I,"
She: "Wait! Are you still fully clothed?"
He: "Um...yes, I think I am."
She: "Are you wearing what you're wearing now?"
He: "NO. I am wearing what at first might pass as the classic garb of a swashbuckling buccaneer from the grand old days of high seas adventure, but at second glance one realizes that every piece of the ensemble has received an update with such thoroughly modern grace notes that if not for the thigh-high boots, the whole thing might almost pass as exciting modern couture dress."
She: "..."
She: "...you're wearing thigh-high boots?"
He: "Well, you know, like those buccaneer-style boots."
She: "Those aren't thigh high." "They come up to the knee or so."
He: "Well, yes, but that's only because they're folded over, into that big cuff. If you didn't fold 'em down, they'd be easily thigh-high!"
She: "But nobody does that. Nobody wears them pulled up."
He: "Somebody must. There must be some functional reason for all that extra boot length to be there, folded down. There were certain situations where they must have pulled those babies all the way up for protection."
She: "What - swabbing the deck? Scrub brush detail? Protect the knees of your breeches from chafing?"
He: "Come on, I don't know! There has to be a reason for it, though - those are big boots, and as much as we glamorize their adventurous lifestyle today, these were grim-minded and very practical men who had their reasons for wearing them."
She: "Okay - let's leave that aside. What I want to know is: what's going to protect your knees from chafing when you go down to swab my deck?"
He: "Ooo baby." "Led me neatly into that one...!"
She: "Mmmm,"
She: "First, I'm going to kiss you."
He: "Yeah?"
She: "Yeah."
He: "How are you going to do it?"
She: "First I'm going to lean in and brush my lips with yours, then, our eyes catching just before we both close, my whole body leans in and I push you down, back onto the bed with my kiss. My kiss is just, going right through you and at first your shocked mouth is but a soft plaything for my lips..."
He: "Yeah?" "Then what do I do?"
She: "Then you kiss me back."
He: "Oh, yeah." "Yeah." "I would..." "...suddenly my mouth returns strength and purpose, and our kiss becomes a struggle of joined joys, tongues and lips and the occasional click of teeth as we greedily devour the love that blooms instantly and unendingly between us to be devoured..."
She: "Oh...!" "Yes,"
He: "...then I'd rip your clothes off of you, hectic and heedless but careful so as not to tear..."
She: "...am I wearing what I'm wearing now...?"
He: "...yes...!"
She: "...oh, yes! Do it! Rip my clothes off of me!"
He: "I have, and now I lavish my kiss's single minded attention all up and down your skin's warm, trembling..." "...uh....I was going to say, 'canvas', but that's not right..."
She: "Yeah. Kind of a mixed, not a mixed metaphor really since there wasn't a metaphor underway, but maybe...an unneeded metaphor?"
He: "Yeah, but then...'surface'? 'breadth'? 'compass'?"
She: "Oh! Yes! I like 'breadth'!"
He: "I lavish my kiss's attention all up and down your skin's quivering breadth..."
She: "Yes! That's it! Oh, I'm quivering, my breadth is quivering..."
He: "...and then I,"
She: "Wait! Are you still fully clothed?"
He: "Um...yes, I think I am."
She: "Are you wearing what you're wearing now?"
He: "NO. I am wearing what at first might pass as the classic garb of a swashbuckling buccaneer from the grand old days of high seas adventure, but at second glance one realizes that every piece of the ensemble has received an update with such thoroughly modern grace notes that if not for the thigh-high boots, the whole thing might almost pass as exciting modern couture dress."
She: "..."
She: "...you're wearing thigh-high boots?"
He: "Well, you know, like those buccaneer-style boots."
She: "Those aren't thigh high." "They come up to the knee or so."
He: "Well, yes, but that's only because they're folded over, into that big cuff. If you didn't fold 'em down, they'd be easily thigh-high!"
She: "But nobody does that. Nobody wears them pulled up."
He: "Somebody must. There must be some functional reason for all that extra boot length to be there, folded down. There were certain situations where they must have pulled those babies all the way up for protection."
She: "What - swabbing the deck? Scrub brush detail? Protect the knees of your breeches from chafing?"
He: "Come on, I don't know! There has to be a reason for it, though - those are big boots, and as much as we glamorize their adventurous lifestyle today, these were grim-minded and very practical men who had their reasons for wearing them."
She: "Okay - let's leave that aside. What I want to know is: what's going to protect your knees from chafing when you go down to swab my deck?"
He: "Ooo baby." "Led me neatly into that one...!"
She: "Mmmm,"
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