Iterations (pt.1)

Albert v. Helen


Do you like it when I kiss you here? [he kisses her above the left hip]

Yeah [she looks down at him, kissing her]

No. Really though. [he kisses her again at the top of the bottom of her rib cage, on the right]

Sure [concise]

[he kisses her on the solar plexus, and looks up into her eyes (like a dog might)]

I like that you like it.

So it doesn’t actually do anything for you? [he’s upstairs now, by her head]

Well, in context…

In context? [he kisses her on the temple]

You know, like in a row. But not necessarily in a “row”.

[he props himself up on his elbow, lets his hand stray] If it makes intuitive, ‘erotic’ sense.

[her plied arms avoid his wandering fondle] If it works towards an end

Like jazz. [he kisses her on the neck, repeatedly]

Well, I guess… [her head bends, both to thought and the barrage]

And each [kiss] kiss [kiss] is a [kiss] discordant [kiss] yet dulcet [kiss] note.

[her eyes accede slightly] Yeah

[he kisses her on the tip of the nipple and twists her other nipple nipple]



Do you like it when I kiss you here?

[the visual is some semi-quote of Contempt, the score “In The Mood For Love, III”]


[her voice settles in a comfortable crook, or notch]

No. Really though. Do you like it?

I like it

When I kiss you here?


Sure? That’s not really appreciative.


It’s not interesting.


I mean, scarcity-wise– e-co-nom-ically– when I kiss you here [kiss] I can’t kiss you here [kiss] or [kiss].

Like, with thank you notes?

Is the trade-off worth it? Is the difference appreciable?

I can’t tell maybe you should kiss m–

Are you leaving arousal on the table?

I’m… still in my jeans.

Furthermore, does it cover– and profit– the losses forfeit from the extent to which it throws off the thrust of the physical narrative?

I. I’m still wearing–

Does it make intuitive, erotic sense?



Oh, absolutely. It’s the most profitable of every erotic narrative– this kiss. When you kiss me on the hip bone; that’s the one.

[flat affect]

You’re totally the Thelonious Monk of doing it

I didn’t

crossed with John Maynard Keens and Adam Smith and Scrooge McDuck


every time you doff your top hat it makes me wet


Now let’s get those spats off before I soil your sheets1


Do you like it when I kiss you here? [kiss]


How about here? [kiss]


No? [kiss]

Hm… no.

[kiss, kiss]

Still no.

[raspberry, the world’s most delicate]

Mm… warmer.

[raspberry, wetter, a little excess slop]

Oh, yeah. Heating up.

[machine gun stutter]

Uh… Uhh

[full-on fartripples]

Hot. HOT!

[continues, adds in armpit farts]

yes! yes! y-e-s!

[now he’s just saying the word fart into her belly]

Ah! Orgasm

[he relents, comes back up]

[she exhales, lacing her arm back behind her head]

[he dabs her brow with an invisible handkerchief]




1Here’s a picture of me robbing a bank; I’m smiling and those dollar sign bags are full of surplus moans


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