She moved her body seductively, allowing the blouse to drop to the floor, moistening her lips sensuously, brushing her fingers against her breasts, undulating, like an exotic dancer. "Have you ever been to a strip joint?" she asked, starting to simulate sexual intercourse, moving against an imaginary lover.
"I have seen those places in movies."
"That the extent of your sexual adventures—watching striptease scenes in movies? Have you ever seen any porno? What would you say if you saw me starring in one of those films?"
You held your hands under the hot-water tap
realizing that a mistake is a near cataclysm
a monosyllabic upheaval trembling with genealogy
and the genius of conformity
hot, hotter water
authorities were called,
phalanxes of saviours and protectors
they pulled your hands away
they screamed the merits of perfect hygiene
and so you invent madness.
"This is going to be an artistic photograph, if you'll just cooperate."
"Put your goddamn camera away."
"I've never heard you swear."
"That's what happens when I think about cereal."
"I could take a photo of you like that. Might cheer up my old dad."
"You aspire to be a pornographer?"
"Most certainly not. I despise pornography."
"You aspire to be a great fashion photographer?" Amanda said, and posed sensually, ran her empty glass along her thigh.
"Why are you making fun of me?" the fiancé asked, attempting to get her into focus.
"I'm making fun of myself," she said, exaggerating her dancing, moving her hips harder against the imaginary lover.
"Where'd you learn to dance like that?"
"Maybe I was stripper. Maybe I worked in a massage parlour. Maybe I was a high-priced escort. Maybe I turned tricks..."
"You certainly have an imagination and a half."
Amanda lifted herself up onto the kitchen counter, and said, "This is quite the grotesque and kinky little kitchen scene we have here."
"You are not grotesque or kinky. Merely slightly drunk and wearing stockings and a beautiful bra."
"This is a very old ugly bra. However, it will do spectacularly for the grotesquely kinky shot. I should put on one shoe. Maybe a run in one of my stockings. That would be a good lewd touch."
"Well, I think kinky demands a little more."
"More imagination or more bodily contortions?"
He reached a hand to Amanda to help her off the kitchen counter, and she slid further back, and said, "This talk of kinky is making me all wet between the legs."
"You don't talk this way when you're not drunk."
"You want to find out how wet I am?"
"I want a photograph of you with your clothes on. Or I can take one of your face." The fiancé placed the skirt over Amanda's lap: "This is your loveliest skirt."
She put the skirt over her face, and said, "Shoot."
"Don't be so childish."
"Maybe I'm drunk out of my mind."
"Are you drunk or not?"
"You're not taking a photograph of me. That's final," she said, and tossed the skirt into the air.
"I so want to take a picture of you, sweetheart," he said as the skirt landed at his feet.
"Are you getting a hard? An erection?"
"Not at the moment."
"You could use a fluffer."
"What's a fluffer?"
"Tell me..." The fiancé went to his computer in another room, typed in the word fluffer at a search engine, and carried on a one-sided conversation as he did his research, then returned to Amanda.
"How did you know about fluffers?"
"I'm a grown woman. You learn things."
"Do you know what a fluffer does?"
"We could discuss oral sex in the cinema, as two adult filmgoers."
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