The room, lit only by candlelight, is warmer than he remembers.

Him: should we put on the fan?

Her: no, we should make love.

Her leg drapes over his, sliding like silk, and he fumbles at her bra with two fingers. It is all she wears.

Her: want me to get it?

Him: no, I’m capable.

He gives up and kisses at the nape of her neck and ears and cheek. She runs her hand through his hair, which is stiff and flaky from pomade.

Him: sorry, I meant to shower it out.

Her: it smells nice.

She rubs her fingers along the sheet, leaving a white residue, and he moves down to her breasts, the portion not covered by bra soft against his lips. Her breathing escalates, rhythmic with his kisses. He feels goosebumps as he moves down her body.

Her: you don’t have to do that.

Him: okay.

He returns to concealed breasts and then neck and ears. She moves oddly, like slow bouncing, and her hands disappear. He continues as if he doesn’t notice, and suddenly, while beguiled with her ears, he feels breast and nipple against his chest.

Him: that’s nice.

Her: I know.

He tongues exposed right breast while fingering her left. Gratification returns to her breathing, and as his sucking intensifies, she squeezes tight around his back, using her nails to anchor.

Him: not too hard.

Her: no, you’re fine.

He sucks harder then, and moves up to her lips.

Her: fuck me.

He tries to respond, but she flips over on top of him, still kissing, and he slides into her. She screams and holds his hands and her hair flies over her face.

Her: please don’t stop.

Him: I won’t.

He pushes harder, reaching the spot he knows she loves, and stays there for a while before catching a glimpse of their shadows against the wall. She clutches his chest hair in her fingers and presses hard against him as she orgasms.

Him: we look like an alligator.

Her smile changes to confusion and he points to the wall. She rolls off of him and onto the bed.

Her: did it happen for you?

Him: look, a dog running!

The dog runs across the wall, then changes to a butterfly, then an elephant.

Him: see his trunk?

Her: I do.

He makes elephant noises while transforming his hands into a flying elephant, soaring through a framed Argenteuil.

Her: Dumbo.

Him: it is; you try.

He nudges her hands, but she fights the movement. He leans over and kisses her cheek.

Him: sorry.

Her: I can make a snake.

Returning to the wall, he sees her snake, contorted and slithering around the wall, and makes one of his own. He wraps his snake around hers, and their hands become shadow-mouths doing battle in the candlelight.