He didn't care, he lost the plot
between her Hollywood hopeful moans
and the guy's forced, breathless climax.
He relaxed, wondering now if the money shot
was worth his money, worth his time.
To hell with pretense, to hell with the story
fast forward got him there so much faster
past the moronic talk, the feigned attractions
past the clothes, lingerie, foreplay, hydraulic motion
to the sudden (now) slow motion, freeze frame release
as she is splashed in pulsing waves, her face
glistening in the spotlight's glare.
He pauses on her and for a moment
he feels her touch, tastes her breath
shares the sensation of her with her partner--
then fade to black -- she disappears to fast forward
the momentary connection of three bodies, gone.