Haha

(Hat tip: Homo Desiribus)

Fragment, fragment! Here, from This Is Heaven, Ch 27, "We need a room," (John & Taylor together)

(Early on in the chapter, before anything happened:) 

The room is in the same wing as Juliette’s (and Barbette’s I guess). The view is the same as well; we could see Africa if the world were flat. We bolt the door. We stare at the room: king-sized bed, closet, balcony window with A/C underneath, mini-desk along the wall with a flat-screen TV. Above the bed—-some anarchist decorator must have done this—-hangs a framed poster of the White Star Line about the maiden voyage of the Titanic. 

(It has happened now:) 

“The earthquake is over,” I say and withdraw. We’re lying side by side now, reeking of salty cum, unable to lift a limb, gasping, but otherwise silent. Everybody is silent. The children have stopped squeaking, the couples have made up, the bedheads are at rest. You could hear a pin drop. No pin drops. 

“You think they were listening?” he asks.

“So to hear,” I say. He laughs.

We’ve discussed this before. Up here, in our heads, us males get back to normal very quickly. 

“One more time?” Taylor asks.

“I’d take this as a compliment,” I say.

“Meaning?”

“Let’s cherish the memory.”

“This was the best sex in my life,” Taylor says.

“I thought it was your first time?”

“So, I’m right by definition.”

“You sound like Alex,” I says.

“Alex,” he muses. “Come to think of it. Alex. Ten inches.” 

He rises, steps into drawers, shorts, T-shirt, sneakers, horn-rimmed spectacles, collects his Marlboroughs, and says: “I think I’ll go now. Spread the good news.” He points at something above my head, above the headrest. There it still hangs, the Titanic, its frame severely off-kilter. “See you later,” Taylor adds.