Aplomb, whose sexual fantasy is to fall out of a plane at 5,000 feet and land perfectly on a flat-on-his-back, erect man’s penis and experience orgasm in unison in that millisecond before the big squash, said to Genevieve, a friend who seeks not the sick and the twisted, but the loving and synchronized: All this talk about thumb tacks… Makes a girl want to take up motorcycles or something. Something with a serious hum and shake to it.” There are legions of love-starved S&Mers in the suburbs, only most of their desires are uncomplicated not because their minds lack imagination but because their loins have no vocabulary. If love and sex were to sit down to a long cup of tea, they’d jointly conclude that all paths lead back to the missionary position, full eye contact, and

I love you at the point of orgasm.