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The world is spinning on an axis two degrees different than it was a moment ago. . . .
Her / your hair is tangled over his / your face, losing him / you in a honey world of softness, a
hay world of smells. Her / your hands are upon him / you, massaging flesh of shoulders, neck, and
thigh, playing delicate symphonies on his / your body.
lisa the lovely: Her/your eyes are blue; her/your lips are warm and red. There is a sun going
nova in her/your flesh.
mike the manly: He/you is strong; he/you is gentle. There is a sun going nova in his/your flesh
lisa the lusty: Tigress, clawed and clutching . . .
mike the musky: Id desires personified and magnified . . .
Thunders roar and lightnings flash and it rains stones.
Now there is a relaxing wherein they/you hold hands and say sweet things and occasionally
raise onto elbows for brief moments to kiss and be kissed, to laugh and smile and sigh. The
shadow-filled bedroom is a womb: the walls are dark and reassuring, the mattress almost a belly
in the way it enfolds them/you. It is the Time After. And though it is not as exhilarating as the
Time During, it is less frustrating than the Time Before. Everyone waits for all of Show for the
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