Intro speaks for itself, interested, more to come.

"There is that, Chevelle," Prof Kidd said licking voluminous lips.

"There is?" she toyed.

"There is a place between states of being," he said, " where gravity's pull takes up space without shape."  As she caressed between her legs, he sucked in rabid breaths, felt blood thin, and passion crash brain function.

"Speaking of animal attraction?", she asked as long legs peak-a-booed, "love is consuming fire, not the friction building up in bodies, not mere pilates stretch or rubbing together like fly antennae." Her meticulous stuffed in breasts brushed lightly against him, "we're talkin' hollywood villianess here, forms ever unrequited, including the chaste 'look don't touch' orphan, who longs to rise above ec-soc status. Sad wretch stain, beauty less, though not without recourse, she works lone man's counter, bending cleavage for measely tip, leaving off charge for the sloppy second piece of soupy pie."

"Sloppy seconds, not your problem", he shifted the squeeze in low waisted black lace thong, a tickle of balls she convinced would force out his feminine side. 'Try it you might like it, never know', she argued in titilating Jungian.

Sweetly she probed, "May I speak out of turn Kidd, is the oblivion of simpletons where prison bars interminably score DNA?"

"Chev," he growled deep, contours to touch, "wherever tedium masquerades as story, Disney's made his millions, products of dynamic fubar."

"F me beyond all recognition, Kidd, your point," she felt his minaret, "is well received."

"Yea," he swallowed a heat-seeking kiss, choked with fire.