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37 Body Language “How’s your headache?” she asked. “Easing,” he answered, “but I’m fighting it.” “How do you fight a headache? For us women pain is pain. If we hurt, we cry or scream or just say so.” “But that makes pain the winner.” His eyes were strafing the beach while she kept lotioning her thighs. They’d been in Cannes for a week, and all their talk was anatomical. She blamed this on the semi-nudes who flanked them daily on the beach. She said the women were “mistakenly unclothed.” For him the girl on his right was one of hundreds to appraise. “This goddess beside me,” he whispered, “is feeling no pain whatsoever.” She glanced at the girl and muttered, “Meat with eyes.” “To you, maybe, but she proves the female body in its prime is beauty at its best.” 38 “We don’t stay prime for long, Josh.” “But while it lasts, you’re ‘sport for Jove.’” “All women work the same inside, so don’t be fooled by the wrapper.” Quickly she capped the lotion bottle with a twist and snapped, “You men are boys in men’s clothing. You love us only from the waist down.” “I love you down and up plus ‘all the demesnes that there adjacent lie.’” “Thank you, Mercutio.” “It’s true.” “Then, why do you leer at the mermaid beside you?” “Because she’s beautiful.” “Then what?” “That’s where it ends.” “I hate to question your aesthetics, Josh, but that’s where it starts,” she said and stood, “so watch, and I’ll show you the ‘ocular proof.’” With that, she turned, shucked off her swimsuit, asked him to hold it and posed like Cleopatra, Rosaline, and Desdemona so that he and everyone would see how bodily convincing she could be. ...


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