This is some compact porn narrative economy we’ve got here. There’s the starving writer pinning his hopes on a screenplay, his typewriter surrounded by crumpled drafts — an image secondary only to a student falling asleep with head rested on a pile of open books when it comes to conveying studious toil. There’s a telegram from a stranded French sailor borne by a commiserating delivery boy who’s such a chipper little eager beaver that he doesn’t pause between sentences. An injured leg is the motive angle that causes him to divulge that he used to be a masseur. Shift to the bedroom wherein he inquires “Do you have any, um, lube — uh, I mean, lotion?” — a line reading that I want to believe is flubbed. Clothes start to come off, and positions are assumed. All this in a mere three minutes.
That’s a-gooda exploitation!
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My, oh my. The sense of realism in porn plot never ceases to amaze me… *cough*
Right, cause when real life gays hook up it’s always romantic and never cliche.
“What are you drinking?”
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“What do you do?”
“Do you want to see my new iphone2 or tampod?”
/cleanup
/senseofworth
A typewriter and a telegram.
Do young people today even KNOW WHAT THOSE ARE ????
NNitcharm