In another life, she was a sea-wave. His face creases up a little when she tells him this. He humours her. How did that feel? He sounds like a therapist. She thinks of clear arcs of orgasm washing over her. Of silver horses endlessly rippling forward. Of being a blue-green fluid arc – of just being – salty-fresh, imbued with oxygen. Of endlessly being and becoming – rippling, sparkling; reaching up and diving back under.
How did that feel? He repeats, a little impatient.
She sighs. It felt like nothing.
Nothing he would understand.