Brush-strokes

Remember, she said, the mind is like a machine, and you must always use it.
Yes, let me become efficient, like your stockings.
Fuck you.
I can fuck you.
Don't come nearer. We haven't fucked in ages. Why is that? I'm not letting you until I have an - no, no, stop.
All right.
Her hand rested on the top of the thickset gray that had now fallen to halfway between her knees and her thighs.
Pantyhose.
What?
Those aren't stockings, they're panty-hose. Stockings are held up by a garter.
That's sexy.
Laughter.

They were both on the floor, laughing, when he walked in.
What's so funny?
Nothing.
He nodded, and went on to the kitchen to grab himself a coke from the fridge.

Women.