"Well, how do you know whether or not you really love something? By seeing whether or not you'd miss it if it was gone. And I just can't tell whether I love the world or the people in it--so, I figure I'll just blow 'em all to smithereens and see how it affects me. Perfectly reasonable, right?"
Faux blinked. "Have you ever had sex?"
Eric blinked. "I have never had the opportunity to exercise the faculties of the body in regards to reproduction; the chance has simply never presented itself, and--and...and..."
His words drifted into the air as his eyes drifted over Faux's hands, which were one by one going down her shirt, unbuttoning it down, down, down. Eric swallowed hard as she pulled her shirt apart; she wore a light blue bra with flower-patterns stitched into the cups.
It started like a stampede, from far off; Eric's body started to tremble, and his eyes went wide, and blood shot from his brain to his pelvis at a speed that would have been comfortable on the Autobahn.
"Are you all right?" Faux started to say. But as soon as she'd got the first two words out, Eric jumped forward in a clumsy kiss that knocked their teeth together, one hand on her hip, and another slipping under the left cup of her bra.
"Jesus! Your hands are freezing!" she said, pulling them away. "Gimme a damn minute to get myself adjusted, would you?"
Eric didn't hear her. His ears were ringing; his heart was racing; and his instincts were ganging up on his intellect like cavemen emerging from the dark with spears and nets to take down the great mammoth. And they were definitely winning.
Faux pulled off her shirt and unclasped her bra, shrugging it off in a way that made Eric's heart beat doubletime. She stood up and unhooked her skirt and let it fall in a small black heap at the ground.
"Your panties match your bra my God that is so hot I can't believe this holy lord God Christ in heaven my God you are so beautiful just let me--"
He rose with his hands out, as though to grab her chest. She put a foot out and planted it into his chest, pushing him back down onto the couch.
"You're going way too fast," she told him. "Take your time--that's what makes it so fun!" She leaned forward, putting her hands on his knees. (The mammoth was pierced, and falling into the snow...) Her breasts, unconstrained by the bra, drooped forward and swung slightly back and forth over his pelvis. (And now the leader of the cavemen was climbing its back with a jagged stone knife in hand, ready to make the fatal slash...)
She pulled his knees together and sat down in his lap. She put her hands on his shoulders, leaned in close against him, her lips close to his ear, her breasts warm and soft against his chest: "Touch me," she whispered. (And now the leader of the cavemen had made the savage cut, and the mammoth was down, and now it was right for the taking....)
He leaned forward in something that was just shy of a tackle, pressing his lips against hers, hands on her hips, pulling her closer and closer to him. They fell to the floor, he atop her; she unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off to the ground.
"Nice jockies," she said, and stripped him of those, too.
They were a tangle of legs, arms, hips and lips; shouts, moans and the occasional dirty word. When it was over and the both of them were spent, Faux sat atop him, looking down with what Eric was sure must have been the "glow" he had read about in certain magazines as a young man.
"You know," he said, heart hammering in his chest, breath ragged, "I think, in all the world...if there were just the one thing I'd miss, it'd be THAT."
"Yeah, I'm pretty good," Faux said, and winked down at him.