'I respect you too much', he said.
She took her top off.
'Having said that', he added, 'I admire you too much to refuse.'
'I've never done this before', she said.
'Never,' he enquired?
'Not in this room', she answered. 'Wait, is this the Premier Inn?'
'The Holiday Inn', he responded, 'Room 218.'
She thought for a moment. 'No, never here', she said.
'Do you love me', he asked?
She said, 'I'm twenty percent sure I love you. The high teens. At least ten. Forget percentages', she proclaimed, 'one in twenty.'
'One in twenty!', he exclaimed. 'That's almost forty percent!'
She smiled, 'Tell me I'm pretty.'
He knew how to talk to a woman. 'You're so much prettier than your friend. And that girl at work you don't like.'
She put her hand on his chest and could feel his heart pounding, not knowing that he had an enlarged heart which isn't a condition in itself, but a symptom of an underlying problem that is causing the heart to work harder than normal.
She tossed her hair.
It landed on a nearby couch.
He smiled using most of his teeth.
They circled each other like traffic wardens around an illegally parked Rolls Royce.
He threw her onto the bed.
The bed collapsed onto the floor.
Which collapsed into the room below.
After he had taken the lift down to the next floor, the kissing began.
Soft at first, like two Disney mice.
Then more passionately.
Their hungry mouths smash into each other's mandibular areas.
She could feel something hard in his trousers.
She pulled it out.
It was the Times crossword.
So hard...
... she could only get 4 down, 'a good year to wear this' - attire.
He carefully inserted his finger into her quivering ear.
She gently fondled his nose.
He groped her undulating breasts sequentially.
They tore at each other's clothes like jealous clowns on methamphetamine.
She entered him roughly.
The sweet sticky sweat of their lovemaking drenched the sheets.
Soaked through the mattress.
Warped the wood of the bedframe.
He didn't know it now, but later the hotel would charge to his card a large security deposit to clean the room.
When they were finished they lay back, exhausted from the ecstatic enjoyment of their ethereal erotic endeavour.
He lit a cigarette and passed it to her.
She smoked it then threw up into a pedal bin.
He went into the bathroom and took a shit.
She cried and started cutting herself.
The last vestige of her Catholic upbringing.
They lay on the bed facing each other.
'El Papa me mando a matarte', he said.
'Meine Katze hat Durchfall', she declared.
They were like two ships passing in the night.
They had collided.
Now one had a damaged rudder and some flooding in the rear compartment.
The other, a virulent STD.