The menus arrive.
I push mine aside, and our favourite restaurant game begins.
You smile, wickedly, and ostentatiously peruse the pages.
“Hmmm. For starters, how about ‘Soft, moist folds’. That sounds nice. Or, hang on, how about ‘Sightly swollen inner lips drenched in a sweet yet salty syrup’?”
You look further down the menu, and I wriggle in my seat.
“Oh yes,” you say, “hot and dark with hints of damp leaves and truffles.”
I am gurgling now.
“Are you ready to order?” And we both look up into the waitress’s dark eyes.
“Which way is to the restroom, please?”
