She put a hand to his chest, self-dramatically, to determine he was here and real. Then they began to stumble and clutch, working toward the bedroom. They hit the doorpost and bounced. One of her shoes began to angle off but she could not shake free and he had to kick it away. He pressed her against the wall drawing, a minimalist grid executed over several weeks by two of the artist’s adjutants working with measuring instruments and graphite pencils.
They did not get serious about undressing until they were finished making love. “Was I expecting you?” “Just passing by.” ~Cosmopolis
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