TWO PEOPLE, one MALE, one FEMALE, lying on a DOUBLE BED. It is A SUMMER NIGHT, and no lights are on inside THE APARTMENT, though LIGHT filters through the BILLOWING CURTAINS from the STREET OUTSIDE.
The CAMERA zooms in from the door, taking in the scene. They are TALKING, IN SOFT WHISPERS. There is a note of AMUSEMENT in the banter, with OCCASIONAL QUIET LAUGHTER, more often feminine. The camera switches to OVERHEAD, CLOSE-IN, as they CONTINUE TO TALK.
“And… let’s see now, your eyes are gorgeous,”
“Go on,”
“They’re so big, and so blue, it’s like they’re pools I could just drown myself in, all day long,”
She chuckles.
“And have I mentioned your nose?”
“Yes, you have,”
“Ok then, your hair, it’s the most perfect hair I’ve seen, and that hairstyle, just perfect,”
“Get out,”
“No, I’m not kidding!”
“I haven’t shampoo’d it in days,”
“Does it matter? It still looks like you stepped out of a shampoo commercial,”
“I hope it’s not the anti-dandruff one you’re thinking of,”
“No way!”
“Ur-huh. You were saying?”
“Your lips…”
“Been there, done that. Getting bored, bucko.”
“Am I seriously losing track? I keep forgetting what I’m up to… it’s like you keep hitting reset on my senses,”
“Did you know it was once a crime to murder metaphors? They’ve gone soft these days,”
“Hey, I’m no Shelly or Keats you know,”
“Honey, if they handed out poetic licenses you’d have failed your learner’s test,”
“Gods that pun was horrible,”
“Not as bad as your metaphors,”
“Quite possibly,”
“Shut up and kiss me, boy.”
“Yes ma’am.”